tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29921115885585668342024-02-19T00:08:08.361-07:00MindGardenTending to the Garden of my MindMtnMamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08486102684101822999noreply@blogger.comBlogger144125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2992111588558566834.post-21187248090203208992013-01-11T21:46:00.002-07:002013-01-11T21:46:48.232-07:00January Time<script type="text/javascript">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Where we are now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
mother’s cancer, which first reared its ugly head in 2010, has returned again
to torture her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After she found out
about it, and had surgery in December, my father had an “episode” with his
heart, and had to be admitted to the hospital, just days after my mother was
released.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His treatment involved
inserting stents, and then he, too, was released.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are both back at home, now, dealing with
shuttling my mother down the hill every few days for chemotherapy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">They are 76.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am
1200 miles away, caught up in the ordered chaos that my life is right now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have made plans to drive out to Northern
California at the end of March to get married in Napa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hopefully, there will be time to visit with
them in their home, let them meet my fiancée, and attend my wedding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For my daughter’s sake, I hope we will fit in
one day to drive down to Monterey and introduce my man to the ocean, my version
of it, anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope there will be time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have no illusions that there is enough time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is never enough time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have actively done what I can to mend the
relationships I have with my parents, knowing that it will remain imperfect,
and that this may well be the last visit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Even if everything goes as best can be imagined, the reality of our
lives keeps me attempting to stay as connected to them as I can by way of phone
calls and emails.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Having been in their
home when my mother was sick before, I know that they really don’t want someone
hovering around, trying to help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Private
people, they prefer the aid of hired professionals, who efficiently go about
their business, maintaining a friendly distance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our relationship, such as it is, still
contains so much imbalance, that everything I do for them they see as “too
much.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It doesn’t prevent me entirely
from sending them useful items and little things like flowers, but it keeps me
from dropping everything here and booking a flight to insert myself into a
situation where I’m really not wanted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
do not care what other people expect from me, the eldest daughter, while my
parents struggle with their health issues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I know how I am perceived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also
know that my mother and I will not have the opportunities to have the
conversations I wish we could have, the conversations I wish we had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My father and I barely have conversations any
more, although we have a connection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
have accepted that I have the relationship with my parents that they can
tolerate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is what they can handle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It causes me deep sadness, but no longer the
pain of the unresolved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At least I have
had this much time.</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If my work to understand and mend my life has taught me
anything, it has taught me the importance of being my most authentic self.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To act deliberately, to speak the truth, and
to be vulnerable to being hurt in order to have open and healthy
relationships.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am a good mother
because I am doing it on purpose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I get
that where we put our energy is what grows in our lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I value my friends and appreciate my joyous
moments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I take risks, I am persistent,
I work hard to make my dreams come true, and I acknowledge my losses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No matter how many times life has knocked me
down, I get back up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I give it another
shot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I take another tack.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t give up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I also don’t try to imitate a salmon,
always swimming upstream, bashing<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>itself
against the rocks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes, you have
to let the current determine where you’ll go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Trust that if you are making good choices, the right opportunities will
present themselves.</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am in the midst of preparing my fiancé’s house to be sold,
getting a new house built for us, participating in custody mediation, taking
care of my daughter and going to work every day, and all of the details that
fill our lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel frustrated a lot
of the time, that I can’t be everywhere and do everything, but mostly I feel grateful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am grateful that there is so much that I
have, that I am involved with, that needs me.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></div>
MtnMamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08486102684101822999noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2992111588558566834.post-14092706798824057932012-11-18T10:20:00.000-07:002012-11-18T11:01:33.707-07:00Where We Are Now<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I miss putting my thoughts down in writing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes, when I’m on the train, I think
about what I want to write, but by the time I’m anywhere where I can actually
do it, the chaos takes over and the opportunity has passed.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">So much has happened in the past nine months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Three significant and life-changing events
all at once:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My daughter has been in a
course of therapy to help her manage her behavior issues, I have a relationship
that has grown to the point where we are going to get married, and Buster has
taken his campaign to “co-parent” to the point of a custody battle.</span></div>
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</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">M is doing so much better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We were so fortunate to find a wonderful therapist that we both trust
and connect with, and it has helped M immeasurably.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She has been learning tools to help her cope,
and she has someone “all her own” that she can talk to and get guidance and the
understanding that is so critical to one’s self-esteem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I recently found the book “The Explosive
Child,” that has helped me so much, too.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
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</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I have a lot to be grateful for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am able to take care of my daughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have a safe, beautiful home, a stable job,
and my health.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also have the most
wonderful man in my life now, and the comfort and joy that he gives me is
impossible to adequately describe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
know that I’ve never before had this level of partnership with another person,
or the depth of affection and trust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That he’s also funny and kind and smart and dependable is just
magnificent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What’s remarkable is that
he and M have formed a tight bond, as well, and she adores him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In every way that counts, he is the daddy
that she’s always needed.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">This brings me to Buster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Last spring, when he moved to the area and wanted to see M, I offered
him time on an “every other Saturday” schedule.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I did NOT have to do this, and in light of his history, the offer was
more than generous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But in classic
Buster style, he took this as a sign of his entitlement, and has waged a
crusade of demanding more and more outrageous “rights.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The more I tell him that he needs to slow
down and proceed gradually, the harder he pushes.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">He has demanded that he be allowed to have a say in
decision-making.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This from the man who
has been essentially absent for the past eight years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who has been seldom-employed, rarely has his
own residence, and has no defined life plan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For the past several months, he’s been renting a two-bedroom third-floor
apartment that is almost completely empty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’ve been there once, and M confirms that it hasn’t changed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sleeps on an inflatable mattress on the
floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He has the kitchen table that I
gave him when I left, he has one kitchen chair, a couple of empty bookcases,
and that’s it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But despite making
absolutely no attempt to make a space for her, he has demanded overnights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s never spent the night with him in her
life, and his demand was for several weekends a month.</span></div>
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</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I have retained an attorney and filed a petition to be
granted sole parental responsibility.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
should have done this years ago, but I really didn’t think he’d ever do this,
and I wouldn’t need to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As part of the
official court paperwork, he “discovered” that M is on meds, and so therefore
sees a psychiatrist, and he used this to declare that I’m “endangering”
her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had gotten to the point in the
process where we’d scheduled court-ordered mediation before he got himself at
attorney of his own, however.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, we
have two more Saturday visits before we have our first mediation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
dread the four-hour session.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am glad
to know my attorney will be there with me.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">My life has taken on an uncomfortable pattern.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Buster’s Saturday looms, he sends me
emails regarding his plans for the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If I question anything, he sends lots of responses, not waiting for me
to answer before he sends another one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
try not to respond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, the day
arrives, and M gets up and gets dressed, expressing conflicting emotions over
going with him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He comes to the door and
she leaves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes, I hear from
Buster during the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He brings her
back in the afternoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then I sigh
in relief, and prepare myself for the avalanche of emails that follow until the
next Saturday two weeks later.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This weekend is a “Buster-free” weekend, and we are at my
man’s house, where we are all relaxed, even though we have to pack for the
weekend and maneuver around not being at home with our stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here, with two dogs in the yard, we are
content and at peace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The driving back
and forth is a pain in the ass, as is staying on top of laundry and such when I’m
not home every other weekend, but we are making it work for now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
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MtnMamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08486102684101822999noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2992111588558566834.post-10131194794847209972012-05-03T19:13:00.001-06:002012-05-03T19:14:05.019-06:00No Net in Sight<script type="text/javascript">
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</script><strong>I wrote this a few months ago, and couldn't post it until now:</strong><br />
<br />
It's been several months since I posted. I've been struggling a lot with my daughter, and most of the time I'm so exhausted that I go to bed right after she does. <br />
I've recently had her start seeing a therapist, because things came to a head when she was suspended from Before & After School Care for two days, and school for one day. She threw a temper tantrum and ran away from her caregiver, and in a structured environment like her B & A SC, that is considered a security breach. Of course, leading up to the tantrum was my daughter's defiance in the face of authority, and general lack of concern for following the rules. She takes the attitude most of the time that something goes wrong that "it's not my fault." She definitely needs to learn personal responsibility and manage her angry feelings in a more constructive way. She can lose her temper and be raging in a stunningly short amount of time when something doesn't go her way.<br />
All of this makes me feel like I've been run over by a truck. Her father had one particular flaw that I found myself unable to stand: He never, ever, said he was sorry. For anything, no matter what. I find that degree of self-absorption and arrogance just unbelievable. When this quality of his reared its ugly head, I found myself loathing him. To have my daughter reflecting anything similar is just awful.<br />
<br />
Also, I'm discovering that no matter how hard I worked to keep from being negative about him in her presence, she has developed her own feelings toward him that are very strong and very angry. She recently told me that she hates him, and she had never said anything like that to me before. I was surprised, although I guess I was hoping that somehow she would be immune from the feelings of loss and betrayal because he's been so absent in her life. She was only a year old when we split, and I thought if she didn't remember living with him, that she would just adopt that as her "normal."<br />
<br />
Instead, she has focused all of her frustration and pent-up anger at him, and as a consequence, when he phoned late on Thanksgiving and wanted to talk to her, and then didn't call or try to contact her over Christmas (but sent a present via Amazon), it tipped the balance of something. <br />
It tipped something for me, too. <br />
I stopped making excuses for him. That alone seems to have unleashed her rage. <br />
<br />
I never wanted her to have to feel the full effect of his complete non-participation in her life. I realize I was dreaming. I have sooooooo much sadness and anger about this, I can't even express it. She deserves so much, and so much better that what she got. He's so disconnected. From her, from life, from reality in general. I'm furious with myself for making a baby with a man who is so incapable. I'm disappointed that I couldn't see how inadequate he was before I let it go as far as it did. I love my daughter so much, but I can't stand how tied to this jackoff we are, for the rest of eternity... he so doesn't deserve to be part of our lives.MtnMamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08486102684101822999noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2992111588558566834.post-29180314760313434802011-11-12T19:23:00.001-07:002011-11-12T20:14:07.271-07:00What Sustains Us<script type="text/javascript">
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</script>"When the truth is found to be lies<br />And all the joy within you dies<br />
Don't you want somebody to love<br />Don't you need somebody to love<br />Wouldn't you love somebody to love<br />You better find somebody to love"<br />
<br />
I've struggled for decades with trust issues. Early loss and repeated trauma have left my psyche scarred in ways that will always be with me. And yet I am one of the lucky ones, because I was seven before all hell broke loose, and something strong and good within me was able to survive deep inside. <br />
<br />
And in one of the universe's ironic twists of fate, in this one way being female worked to my advantage. Unable to find someone that I could invest with all the love and goodness that still remained, I simply made one.<br />
<br />
Okay, "simply" is clearly not the right word. But that is exactly what I did. Having a child saved my life in all the important ways. <br />
<br />
I don't have to wonder what my life would be like without her. I wonder at the fact that she's here. A little hand holding mine. Someone who looks to me for comfort and reassurance, who depends on me to provide what she, what every child, has the right to take for granted. Who can bask in my "I love you"s and offer her own with the clarity and sincerity of a child. It's pretty awesome.<br />
<br />
All the years of being strong and keeping it together now have a reason. My dilligence and persistence finally make someone else's life easier. We have a safe and comfortable home, a routine, and the lovely mundane pleasures like our Labrador sleeping at my feet. <br />
<br />
I've kept myself sane, but she soothes my soul. She softens me. She makes me lighter. The effort to raise her has brought laughter and imagination and flexibility into my life in ways that constantly provoke me to think differently about what's important and how to creatively problem-solve. <br />
<br />
She's also helped me put aside a lot of the stupidity and heartlessness of other people. I just don't have room in my life for holding onto the darkness for too long. Because I love my daughter, I can eventually get to the place of detachment a lot faster. I can see that it's not worth it to dwell on the wrongs, because I want our lives to be free. Because I want to be a good example, I am a better person. <br />
<br />
I have confronted so many of my fears. I've taken them out and turned them over in my hands. I've looked at them with these new eyes and been able to see their flaws. Some of them, being brought into the light, have withered like a plant that's no longer watered. I found that, as a mother, I don't have any more time to put off the things that I needed to do, but that I dragged around for years. Some people have marveled at how I turned my life around. I marvel that something finally happened that beat back the pain and despair and unrelenting darkness. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br /><br />MtnMamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08486102684101822999noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2992111588558566834.post-14945871417039416902011-09-05T13:48:00.002-06:002011-09-05T13:55:05.747-06:00Next Steps<script type="text/javascript">
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</script>Looks like I've got a contracting job for the next several months, so that worry is taken care of, for now. I am very grateful that I got my last job when I did. It truly was "in the nick of time," when I was at the end of my savings and really needed to get back to work. With that job, I was able to buy my townhouse and get a lot of loose ends tied up. I met some people that I really like. But I never felt it was a good fit. For the first year, I had a boss that I really liked and had a great rapport with, and that kept me going. But once he was promoted and the whole organization shifted, things went dramatically downhill. I'm hearing bad reports from all sides in the time since I was let go. I'm glad I'm not there any more. I remember talking to one of the Project Managers several months ago, and telling him that I was miserable. That's just no way to live.<br />
<br />
I've been diligently job hunting, and my skills are marketable these days. I was fortunate to find something Downtown. I've worked Downtown before and used to take the bus when I lived just west of Denver. Now that I'm further south, I'm going to try the Light Rail and see how that works out. Parking is an issue, and sometimes getting in and out of the city can be a problem if there is a big game or event that snarles traffic. So I bought a monthly Transit pass and I'm going to give it a whirl.<br />
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Sleeping later for the past several weeks has been luxurious. I know that M has enjoyed it, too. Tomorrow we're back to "normal" - me getting up at 5:30 and her at 6. I've got our morning routine down to a science, but I think I'm going to make our lunches the night before to give us a little more breathing room. One of the things I noticed before I became unemployed was how rushed I always am, and I didn't like it. I'm going to make an effort to relax a bit on my schedule and take things a little slower. Now that M is in the Second Grade, she isn't as clingy and feels more independent, and she got a teacher this year that is wonderful. As a result, I feel like I can loosen up a little and maybe be a little easier on myself.<br />
<br />
The extremely hot weather finally broke a few days ago! This summer has been brutal. Colorado isn't usually in the high 90s for months on end. I've hidden inside when normally I spend as much time outdoors as possible. One hundred degree weather makes me feel almost nauseated, and saps my energy. For the past couple days, the temperature has been back in the normal range, highs in the 70s, and it's been lovely. I had meant to really work with M on her bike riding this summer, but because of the heat, it just didn't happen. I haven't been on my bike, either. I really hope we have a nice Autumn and I can get back outdoors.<br />
<br />
Since M's dad's last visit on June 1st, things with him have been weirder than usual. After I told him that M was having a negative reaction to the webcam and I wanted to take a break, his communications have been combative and irrational. He declared he was going to seek mediation, and then I didn't hear another thing about it. Out of the blue he sent me a brief email asking my opinion on what a good "parenting plan" was. When I replied with asking what happened to mediation, he just said I laughed at that. So I answered that I didn't think it was appropriate for him to have "joint responsibility" but asked again about setting up visits. He went as far as moving to Colorado but I wonder for what. The distance has remained the same whether his address is Durango or Greeley or somewhere in Massachusetts. I keep trying to get him to understand that with M, he needs to take things in steps, and build trust. But he is clearly only thinking about himself. Again, now, I haven't heard another word. I can't believe he could be serious about his relationship with M if he is willing to let so much time go by with no progress.<br />
<br />
He's always been so very touchy about his delicate sensibilities. If he perceives that he's being criticized or demeaned in any way, his reaction is to shut down. He's got no negotiating skills, and no creative ideas. He's also extremely Passive-Aggressive. He simply WILL NOT follow through on a committment, or do what he says he'll do. Somehow he sees this as his master strategy. But now that I've dealt with him so many years, I think he forgets how well I know him. He really is his own worst enemy. It's tragic how stuck he is in his own little drama. Meanwhile, M continues to do well without him, and gradually is voicing her own opinions on the matter. She wants to see him, but is adamant that she not be forced to "go with him." She doesn't like the idea of spending the night with him. Of course she'd feel that way! She never has! He's only spent a handful of hours with her since the summer of 2005. I wonder if he realizes that she's a child.<br />
<br />
I expect his next move to be some kind of summons. I cannot believe though, that I would not be able to work out something reasonable, visitation-wise. The question is why? I've been the one trying to get him to be MORE involved with her, not less. I've just maintained that it has to be under conditions that are in her best interests, rather than simply for his convenience. That alone has been enough to keep him away, and that alone tells me that he really is interested only in himself.<br />
<br />
She's playing right now with a little girl that lives part-time on the next row over. I met her dad last night, and he gave me a summary of his situation. I hope his daughter will be around for a while. M hasn't had a lot of opportunity to have playmates who live close by. It's a new thing for her to be able to run around outside with a neighbor kid. M's such a sensitive girl. I want her to be able to enjoy the stuff that kids should be able to take for granted, but that she is denied so often.MtnMamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08486102684101822999noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2992111588558566834.post-68466642321030631502011-08-17T10:16:00.000-06:002011-08-17T10:16:03.322-06:00Here we go again...Yep, as I feared, my job is no more. However, a week later, what I realize is how very toxic that job had become and how much better I feel now that it's gone. Considering the poor economy and all, knowing that I feel much better being unemployed says a lot about the workplace I was in.<br />
<br />
Fortunately, I should be getting unemployment benefits, but I hope I won't need them or at least not for very long. Who knew you could apply for unemployment online these days? Maybe it's a sign of getting older, but I can't help feeling slightly amazed at how much technology has changed the way we do things. Not that I miss combing through the Jobs section of the newspaper! <br />
<br />
Next Tuesday M starts Second Grade. When she started Kindergarten, I hadn't found a job yet, so I was among the parents standing outside the school each day waiting for the kids to file in and out. I've been in the PTA, and go to the school events, and am on recognition-level aquaintance with many of the parents. So here we go again. Each class at M's school has a designated spot around the school to line up and be dismissed from. I will find out where our spot is on Monday night, when we get the pleasure of showing up with our bulging bags of school supplies and find out who M's teacher will be.<br />
<br />
It takes a lot of self-discipline to get up each day and stay with a routine and keep plugging away without the structure of a work schedule. It took six solid months to find my last job. I am hoping it won't take that long this time. Fingers crossed!<script type="text/javascript">
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</script> MtnMamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08486102684101822999noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2992111588558566834.post-89665614267921271022011-08-07T08:49:00.001-06:002011-08-07T08:51:07.446-06:00Creeping up on the Big Five OhFor as long as I can remember, my birthday has felt like New Years. It was always the end of summer, right before school started, smack dab in the middle of last-minute vacations and the scurry to get prepared for a new school year. It has been a time to assess where I am and where I’m going, to take a look at what needs to be done to prepare for the long winter ahead, and to clear out the worn out and no longer needed from my life.<br />
<br />
This year I will turn 50. I am grateful that before that happens, I managed to clear several important milestones. I bought a townhouse and got a dog, I got my degree and have no student loan debt, I turned my finances around and am now working on building back up my emergency fund and my retirement funds, and I have a job… for now.<br />
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That’s not going all that well, but I’m doing what I can to hang in there. <br />
<br />
My daughter is the light and joy of my life, and she’s a great kid. The situation with her biological father is worrisome, but the older M gets, the less I fear his antics. I keep remembering what it was like when I attempted taking him to couple’s counseling for M’s sake, and the therapist pointing out that he was Passive Aggressive. I think it will always work against him in the end.<br />
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I’ve recently had the opportunity to catch up with some old friends, and I am continually moved by how lucky I am to have the friends that I have and how important my friends have been in my life. I am so fortunate to have friends scattered across the country, and from so many times in my life. They give me a sense of continuity and context that I wouldn’t otherwise have. They help remind me of who I am and how I’ve changed, but also how the essential core of me has remained the same.<br />
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I have a couple of friends that I’ve been seeing less of. I am increasingly aware of how precious my time is, and where I’m spending my energy. It’s important to me that my actions are in line with my intentions.<br />
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As well, there are the mundane housekeeping tasks. I just had four new tires put on my ten year old Rav. I had my eyes examined and ordered new glasses and contacts. I finally bought M’s school supplies and we’ve bought her some new clothes. I need to have my chimney cleaned and inspected, and I need to order some firewood delivered. All of these things have taken a chunk of change, and I’ve made each purchase thoughtfully, making sure I’m not being frivolous. (see job worry, above)<br />
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Thankfully, I am in wonderful good health and reasonable fitness. Yoga and walking the dog help a lot. I eat well and I have really good genes. I can look forward to skiing again this winter, if I can afford it, but if not there is still snowshoeing. I have every reason to believe I have many more decades ahead of me, in the tradition of my ancestors. I am approaching 50 with my head up, my shoulders back, and my stride still strong.<br />
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</script>MtnMamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08486102684101822999noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2992111588558566834.post-40786553833693169622011-06-25T11:04:00.000-06:002011-06-25T11:04:08.769-06:00Summertime BluesSince Buster's last Annual Visit, when he professed to wanting to spend Quality Time with M this summer, and talked enthusiastically about moving to Greeley, CO, for his new job that would bring him so much closer, a couple of things have happened.<br />
<br />
After the end of his First Year of teaching, he went home to Massachusetts to visit his parents, and - as usual - got bogged down. I'm not sure what the dynamic there is, but I have my suspicions. His doting mother is the kind to hold his hand and wipe his butt, and Buster is the kind to enjoy that. Since arriving back in MA, he has been ever so reluctant to answer my questions, but since his parents jump on the webcam with him to M whenever he's there, he can't avoid answering completely. For the past several weeks, though, the webcams have meant I have to be in the room, because his parents ask me about stuff and it's much more interactive than when it's just Buster and M by themselves. Last time, when his parents were finished and had left the room, I took a break for a brief minute and came back in to find Buster asking M what her Thanksgiving plans were! He's got some nerve...<br />
<br />
What I've been able to find out so far: <br />
<ul><li>He now "can't make any plans" for the summer. (which relieves me of trying to work out any arrangements with him)</li>
<li>His finances are "a shambles" (duh, I guess that's what happens when you never open your mail)</li>
<li>He still has no place to live and no arrangements have been made.</li>
<li>After telling me a week and a half ago that he was heading back to<script type="text/javascript">
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</script> CO, as of Wednesday, he is still in Massachusetts. </li>
</ul>Although the Court order to increase his Child Support obligation from it's below-poverty level to something resembling reasonable did go through, Buster continued to pay his Discount Rate, claiming he wasn't aware of the change. I guess that's also what comes of not opening your mail...<br />
<br />
I was excited to learn that after all these years of him getting away with contributing next to nothing, that his monthly check would be close to being Actually Helpful. Still less than my monthly bill for daycare, but still. However, I also knew that it was folly to count on it. Since I bought the new townhouse at the same time, which raised my Housing budget, I admit I was kind of hoping to see that money.<br />
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Fortunately, I also just had my first Review at work, having been there a year now, and was granted a token raise. (2.5%) That helps, and although it isn't as much as I'd hoped, I also know that in this economy I'm grateful to have a job and any raise at all. So, as usual, I am managing on my own. My job has been crazy stressful for the past couple months, and I've been scrambling. I hate feeling so crunched that it's hard to find time to make routine appointments like get my hair cut. As soon as school let out and the dreaded Homework stopped for the year, swim lessons started, and we're rushing off after work for those. I'm kind of beat.<br />
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I made a reservation to escape to higher ground for the 4th of July weekend. Last year I whisked us off to Aspen, but this year we are going to stay in a cabin in Estes Park in a campground. The cabins are supposed to have individual fire pits just outside their front doors, so we'll be able to roast marshmallows and make S'mores, so M is stoked. The cabin is really to make it easier to manage the kid and the dog, since the tent I own is a relatively small lightweight backpacking tent, and I don't know how this new dog will cope with the whole camping thing. I decided to avoid it altogether and go for a cabin. Easier, if not as rustic and secluded as I wanted. I'll be able to bring up a bunch of groceries and not have to worry about bears and raccoons, and just relax.<br />
Also, nearby in the town of Estes Park, which is surrounded by Rocky Mountain National Park, is a large dog park where we can take the dog and let her run. So the whole thing sounds stellar, and I'm looking forward to a few days off.MtnMamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08486102684101822999noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2992111588558566834.post-7983064249191152192011-06-05T08:52:00.000-06:002011-06-05T08:52:05.755-06:00We Are ThreeThe time has really flown by. We've been in our new townhouse almost two months now, and we are starting to feel settled in. One of the things that we'd been talking about for a long time was getting a dog. I've had dogs my whole life. When I was a baby and my Grandmother took care of me while my mother worked, she had a lovely older Irish Setter named Ginger and a black poodle named Pepi. We had a German Shepard/Great Dane mix named Fritz. When we moved from the Redwood foothills to the suburbs my parents gave Fritz away, and soon after that my grandparents were killed in a car accident. I think the loss of the dogs in my life was representative of the huge void I felt during those years. When I was older, arranging my life so that I could have a dog was always a priority. I can step back through the dogs in my life with probably much greater accuracy (and greater affection) than the men. A few times, conflicts between dogs and men were pivotal points. I wish I could say the dogs always won, but when they didn't, the men didn't last long after.<br />
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At the time M was born, I had two black Labs named Molly and Maggie. When we all moved to California, part of what made the decision was that my parents had a huge house and fenced yard, and my dad helped me install a dog door. Sadly, both developed Mast Cell tumors that despite (very expensive) surgery, ended up ending their lives prematurely. <br />
<br />
We've been back in Colorado for two years now, and a week ago we adopted a lovely 2 year old female black Lab from a Lab Rescue organization. She's a wonderful dog and has good manners, is already housebroken, past the chewing stage, and is great with my daughter. She's happy to go for walks and has settled right in. The adjustment period has been going surprisingly well. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXCUUa0ij1Tc8Cnr8gLYDBLbCspX2dNIRdMbe04S66Z3O__AiFBViI7fOaTMCAyQY1qxXJXoc_z6SpWcOE-WzfOkladm0IjiSno22Yj84SnqkRZOqFKQixoejmSaKsLU3oBj8JSkgEYIc/s1600/DSC03448.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXCUUa0ij1Tc8Cnr8gLYDBLbCspX2dNIRdMbe04S66Z3O__AiFBViI7fOaTMCAyQY1qxXJXoc_z6SpWcOE-WzfOkladm0IjiSno22Yj84SnqkRZOqFKQixoejmSaKsLU3oBj8JSkgEYIc/s320/DSC03448.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>I am a homebody at heart, and something very deep and very basic inside me is calmer, happier, and more secure with a dog in the house. I also think that it is good for M, being an only child, to experience having to take someone else's needs into consideration. So we walk the dog together, and she feeds her, and we talk about what the dog needs and how to care for her. I have no illusions about who is primarily responsible for her, but as M gets older she can take on more. It's good for me to have a dog to walk again... getting me up off the couch is always a good thing. And there's something so satisfying about listening to the dog breathing next to my bed at night. It feels like the last piece has dropped into place.MtnMamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08486102684101822999noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2992111588558566834.post-87590714184615551682011-05-06T21:33:00.000-06:002011-05-06T21:33:20.678-06:00My Border Collie Impression, or Home at LastIt's been a while since I posted, and a LOT has happened. I closed on the second property, and we moved on April 9th.<br />
<br />
M has her pink bedroom and everything is in place. It turned out really well, and she has a lot of room. A couple of my friends helped me and M paint it before we moved and we knocked it out in two nights.<br />
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I've been working like a mad dog to get stuff unpacked and put away so that I can breathe. After the movers left, I had to have a garage door guy come and fix the garage door, an appliance guy come and switch the direction the fridge doors open, and a guy from Sears come and (re)install the washer & dryer because the movers tried but they didn't know what they were doing - and since the washer seems to have "lost a valve" in the move, thank goodness I'm so compulsive or there'd have been water everywhere the first time I tried to use it. <br />
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Then I started opening all the boxes. Due to the delays, etc., the day of the move, a friend had boxed up a whole pile of stuff that I'd set aside as stuff I'd wanted to take over in my car... Including M's teddy bear. It took me two nights to find the bear. You can imagine...<br />
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Not having complete control over the move - at the last minute - really challenged me. At least I understood what was going on...which helped marginally, but the stuff that got packed without me continued to trip me up. The first night, dirty and sweaty and sore, I couldn't take a shower because I could NOT find a towel, and I was so exhausted at that point that I just lay down but couldn't sleep. That was awful… I felt beyond wrung out and yet my mind just wouldn’t let go. The next day I found the damn towels and then things began to fall into place.<br />
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Once I could cook in the kitchen, get dressed for work in the morning, get on the Internet, and M could watch Nick Jr., we felt like the big stress was over.<br />
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I spent last weekend carrying the mass of stuff that the movers had "dumped" in the garage down to the basement, and then put the big storage shelves back together and put all my camping gear and that kind of stuff away down there and now it's not just a big pile that drives me crazy every time I look at it. It's all orderly and symmetrical, and I could actually find something if I needed it. (yay!)<br />
<br />
Then I swept out the garage and moved the spare refrigerator and the shelving to their spot near the door into the house, and put together my new garage tool cabinet, and put the tools away that have been living in a big Dell box for six years. *sigh*<br />
<br />
I think soon I will be able to put up the Bulldog system I bought - which is this fantastic pegboard system for hand tools for the garage. (All these manufacturers of organization products have me in mind when they sell this stuff, y'know)<br />
<br />
Oh! And I went down to the Container Store and designed and ordered Elfa for my bedroom closet and shelves for M's bedroom and bookshelves for the living room. They will be installed on May 8th. My bedroom closet tried to commit suicide the other night (the sound of which scared the bejeebus out of us!) by the rod and bracket pulling out of the wall and falling. So I decided my plans to get the Elfa were "moved up." I was actually going to wait on that.<br />
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I have an office again, so the computer and printer is no longer in my living room, which makes me happy, and M has lots of room, and my kitchen has all new appliances - I feel so rich! I have never "heard" so quiet a dishwasher before! <br />
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Now, if the weather would just warm up, we could go to the nursery and get a bunch of plants so I can make my patio a green oasis, and put some greenery in the house.<br />
<br />
When I was conscious of the realization that it has been six years since I had my own place, I felt myself get really sad. There is still grief to process from that whole episode and I had to push it down then in order to deal with all of the stuff that I had to get through these past six years. I know it will come sneaking back in like wisps of fog, now that I am here, and settled, and I can sort through it. Which is okay… it’s time.<br />
<br />
Six years is a long time to hold your breath.<br />
<br />
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Saturday was M's 7th birthday. The night before, she opened the presents I gave her (dolls and clothes) and we had cupcakes for dessert. Her dad and her dad's mom gave M books for her birthday that had arrived earlier that week from Amazon. Saturday morning we got up and finished packing, and then took a taxi to D.I.A. M has traveled a lot and is a great traveler, so she sat in the back of the taxi quietly for the long drive to the airport, and then we went through security. By now, the routine is familiar: have your ID and boarding passes ready, take off your shoes, put your stuff in the bins and push them along the conveyor belt to be xrayed, walk through the scanner, wait on the other side to retrieve your stuff, put your shoes back on. <br />
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We took the underground train to the gate and then found a place to have lunch. After lunch, we found our departure doors and sat down to play cards. Finally, they announced boarding and we found our seats on the plane. We flew Frontier, which is only 4 seats across with an aisle down the middle, so M got the window and I had the aisle. She was wearing her "Birthday Girl!" pin, so just about every person we passed wished her a happy birthday. At the end of the 2.5 hour flight the attendant gave M a foil-wrapped stack of chocolate chip cookies, which delighted her.<br />
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Dad, Mom, and my younger brother met us on the curb and we dashed through the rain to throw the bags in the trunk of their car and get in. The drive back to Auburn took about an hour, while we chatted about the flight and the weather. It's been about 3 years since I've seen my brother, who is what we used to call Retarded. He's not able to speak, but communicates through a combination of sounds and gestures, and I've always been able to understand him. Maybe that's a result of only being three years older and closest in age. He had filled out since the last time I'd seen him and looks a lot better; I was happy to see that moving from San Jose to Auburn seems to agree with him. <br />
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My mother, who's been fighting Lymphoma for the past 15 months, sat in the back seat with M and me on the ride back to their house. She looks good too, but I know this can be deceiving. Still, it was good to see her getting around without her wheelchair, walker, or cane.<br />
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At first, we just hoped the rain would stop and sat around and caught up with the local doings and told stories about what we've been up to. My folks were delighted to see M and took us to a Chinese restaurant for her birthday dinner, and there was a beautiful chocolate cake from the best bakery in town waiting for us when we got home. My mother gave her more books and she got a Target gift card.<br />
<br />
For the past several days, we've been just hanging out with my folks, talking, watching a few movies and Jeopardy, playing cards, and making meals. It's been lovely to be able to abandon the alarm clock and the watch, and simply move through the days without having anything that I NEED to do. M is sharing a bed with me and has been velcroed to my side throughout the nights, so I haven't been sleeping well, but there haven't been many demands on me, so I'm doing okay. <br />
<br />
My brother went back to his home on Monday, and M and I drove down to Sacramento to see my dear friend S. We lucked out and three kids in his culdesac were available to play, and so the kids ran around and had a great time while the grownups got to talk. S lives in a gorgeous neighborhood and has great friends, and no matter how long I get to stay, I always wish I could stay longer. We got home about bedtime, just time to pop M in the bath and then go to bed.<br />
<br />
Today I drove my mother and M down to Kaiser in Roseville to get her blood drawn. Although she's been recovering well from the surgery she had back in Jan. 2010 to remove spinal tumors, the other stuff hasn't been going as well. The last round of Chemo she was scheduled for had to be cancelled because her platelet count was far lower than it should be. Today's blood work was to see if the numbers had come up so she could try again, but this afternoon she got the report that her platelet count is even lower than before. We are waiting to hear if her Chemo will be delayed again, but we all feel certain it will be.<br />
<br />
She says that the weird thing is that she feels better than she's felt in a long time. I can see how she is able to get around much better lately; we went to lunch after Kaiser and then stopped by Toys R Us so that M could buy a Backyardigans DVD, and Mom was not as tired out as I expected her to be. She is downstairs now, talking to M as she plays. My dad is not home yet from golfing. They are both 74.<br />
<br />
We fly home on Friday. It will be our last weekend in the rental and I am supposed to close on the new townhouse on Monday, then back to work and school on Tuesday. I plan to move into the new place on the following Saturday. I know that like every body does, I will go about my business, take care of the things I need to take of, and hope for the best. But I wonder if my mother will ever see my new place, or if this will be our last visit. There is no way of knowing... we can't predict the future. I'm glad we are here now.<br />
<br />
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</script>MtnMamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08486102684101822999noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2992111588558566834.post-86469857157700614102011-03-19T11:27:00.001-06:002011-03-19T11:46:08.961-06:00"Divine" Intervention - Buster UpdateMy daughter’s dad is extremely passive-aggressive. Getting him to participate in anything is difficult, frustrating, and often futile. I figured out long ago to pick my battles. Knowing I would be doing all of the heavy lifting, and really wanting to minimize the drama and aggravation, I issued a proclamation when we split up: I wouldn’t take him to court unless he made me do it. And I’ve pretty much not asked him to do anything I had no hope of him ever doing. My idea of being a parent and his are so vastly different, that I don’t even think of him that way. He’s been more of a place-holder than anything. Someone M can point to and say “that’s who my dad is.” Instead of not knowing. Which I decided was better. Doesn’t mean it’s been easier.<br />
<br />
As is his pattern, at first things went along relatively smoothly. I moved the baby and myself to California (with his full cooperation and blessing), and he stayed behind in Colorado. This was 2005. We stayed in contact and he kept up his side of our arrangement. Then, once he was faced with real decisions, he fell apart. I had found a good job in the fall of 2005, had found a good daycare for M, and was working toward putting my life back together. He wasn’t doing so well. For all of 2006 there was no contact, no financial contribution, and no sign that things were going to improve. At the end of 2006, I decided that time was up, and I opened a case in California to enforce Child Support. <br />
<br />
The first time (early 2005) he’d been confronted with the reality of Child Support, he declared “If I pay that, I won’t be able to live INDOORS!” in his usual dramatic fashion. It was clear that it never crossed his mind how much my part amounted to. I guess he thinks that I will always “just manage”, in my own magical way. So in 2006, when California sent him the paperwork, he declared “extreme poverty” and was given a final monthly payment amount that was ludicrous. Had I been in a position to really depend on his financial contribution, we’d have been in big trouble. As it was, I put it in a savings account and used it when I moved back to Colorado.<br />
<br />
Since 2006, he’s been pretty quiet about his activities and circumstances. He told me that he was trying to become a teacher, but that the program directors in Colorado had told him he wasn’t suited to teaching. As per usual, he decided they didn’t know what they were talking about. I know that at some point, he moved back in with his (very well off) parents in Massachusetts. More often than not, he’s been unemployed. I heard he’d entered another teaching program in MA. Most of what I know about him, I figure out from a combination of little hints he drops after the fact, stuff other people tell me, and my own research. A while back, I proposed a regular webcam call between him and M, and he’s participated in that on a regular basis. His first visit after our split was in September 2008. The second one was February 2010. The third was this past December. <br />
<br />
Just prior to the last visit, he told me he’d moved to Colorado. Prior to that, he told me he was moving to Florida, but the Florida thing didn’t pan out. He ended up in a bitty little place not far from Durango, on a Native American reservation, teaching at the high school, which is over six hours away from here. Still, I had no address, no local phone #, and no real information about what he was doing or where he was living. I had left the Child Support Case open in California, because in order to move it back to Colorado I would need his data. I didn’t know when I’d be able to move the case, but they knew I’d moved back and wanted to move the case as soon as I was able. Then, the state of California implemented a new bill.<br />
<br />
He was notified that he was going to have to put M on his health insurance. She’s always been on mine, and he hasn’t had a job, so this particular wrinkle was new for him. Apparently the state of California believes that Non-Custodial Parents should be more involved in their children’s insurance needs. And to that end, are making it mandatory that the NCPs provide coverage. The bill to him for this? $500 a month, nearly double what he pays for Child Support. <br />
<br />
Funny how quickly he contacted me to get me involved. <br />
<br />
I agree that it makes no sense for him to put M on his insurance, regardless of the cost. The money they were going to take out of his shiny new paycheck was simply a waste. But in order to correct this situation, I’d have to file new paperwork in Colorado, and he had no other choice. He had to give me his details.<br />
<br />
Being that we are starting year five of this Child Support arrangement, I asked for a review of the order. Now that he’s actually working, I doubt he still qualifies for his special poverty discount. Dozens of pages of forms were filled out and properly filed, and then there was nothing to do but wait and see.<br />
<br />
Monday afternoon, when I’d finished with the inspection of the new property and checked the mail, there was a fat envelope waiting for me from Colorado Child Support. They’d finished their review and agreed an increase was appropriate. I just had to sign the papers and get them notarized and returned to them. Of course, Buster has the option to agree or fight it, but I am hoping that the past couple months of having his check garnished will have persuaded him to agree that the new amount is better than what California was demanding, and just sign it already. A girl can hope.<br />
<br />
What can I say? The extra money would be nice. The new amount would almost cover M’s before- & after-school care expenses. I know better than to be expectant, but I do get a little chuckle out of the circumstances. I know that had he not been “over a barrel” he would have never willingly forked over his financial information, let alone his mailing address. Since he’s always known mine, it seems fair. In real life, nothing is fair, but every once in a while, the universe throws me a bone.MtnMamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08486102684101822999noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2992111588558566834.post-66663015981062354342011-03-13T20:50:00.002-06:002011-03-13T20:57:22.491-06:00When the waiting IS the hardest partIn the past month, my neighbors to the West have been worse than ever. Most nights they wake me up some time around 2 or 3 a.m. I get up for work at 5:30, so this has been wearing me out. I know that they know that I planned to move out, and I suspect that this made them feel a certain license to let their freak flags fly, because I know that they are well aware of my complaints against them. <br />
<br />
The real estate deal finally collapsed under the weight of the HOA's non-certification. The lender finally became too skittish about lending to a property that was so sketchy, even though the unit itself is sound and my application is already approved. I'm sad about the loss of living on the edge of the greenbelt. I wanted to listen to coyotes howl in the moonlight, take my (future) dog for walks there daily, and be so close to the bit of wild nature that is still here in Colorado. I get teary every time I think about letting go of that dream. The houses near by that are for sale are out of my price-range, so I was limited to looking at townhouses.<br />
<br />
By Friday I was so worn out. I'd already signed 3 contract extensions and answered numerous questions. I'd packed up most of the stuff that is going into boxes, arranged for the installation of utilities at the new address, and scheduled movers. I'd completed the final walk-through and was ready to head over to the title office to close. And then it fell apart. <br />
<br />
I was crying as I called the companies to cancel the installations that had been scheduled for the next day. Still, I couldn't help but be amused that even as the customer service reps expressed their condolences, they all urged me to "have a nice day!" as they ended the calls. When I went to pick up M from afterschool care, I stopped to talk to the Director, as she's become my friend and was waiting to hear that I'd finally closed.<br />
It really helps me when a friend reacts in a genuine way to something that has happened to me. I have so many relationships that have filters on them, including - unfortunately - my family, so I think I maybe think about or notice it more than other people who are lucky enough to have someone(s) ready at-hand who will get mad for/with them, show that they are upset, or express the very emotions that we try so hard to keep in check while we are at work and out in the "world." <br />
<br />
I told M right away in the most gentle but straightforward way that I knew how. She cried and protested, and we agreed that it sucked and was so disappointing. I didn't grow up with people who would let me feel and express what I felt, and I will not do that to my child. But being the grownup in this situation, I had to manage this turn of events and decide what to do. I had talked to my leasing office and knew I'd need to figure something out by Monday.<br />
Still, there we were with Friday night staring us in the face, sad and at a loss, wondering what to do next. I wallowed in my disappointment for the evening. But my realtor had asked me what my plan was, and if I wanted to keep looking at properties, and I said yes.<br />
<br />
So, Saturday morning we met her at another complex a little farther away. The location is a lot closer to retail and a main artery, and I had initially dismissed it in favor of the areas closer to where we are now. Still, the complex is laid out so that no one can speed through it in their car; it is tucked back from the street and doesn't connect through, which avoids through-traffic. There are lots of mature trees, and space between the buildings. Every unit has a garage and is two-story, and the percentage of rentals is very low.<br />
<br />
We walked through a unit that had been remodeled. The kitchen had been gutted and redone completely. I usually shy away from those because I rarely share the same taste as the remodeler, but in this case I was pleasantly surprised. Except for the stainless steel refrigerator, the finishes were ones I would have picked myself. The cliche of granite-and-stainless wasn't executed with such relentlessness in this particular remodel, and the overall effect is softer than many I've seen. The dining room is beautiful, the fireplace re-facing is modern, and the colors are soft and current. The unit has 3 bedrooms and a two-car garage and a basement. The feature that got me hooked, however, was the outdoor space. It is big enough - and private enough - that I could have adequate space for a dog, a fire pit, and plenty of potted plants. That was the thing that was noticeably missing in the other property; all it had was a balcony.<br />
<br />
I was also excited that it has an attic fan and a humidifier system installed with the central heating/airconditioning. The front room is small but the third bedroom is enticing. I used to have an office in my house in Edgewater, and the thought of moving my computer and files out of the living room makes me happy. <br />
<br />
I put an offer on it Saturday afternoon, and the inspection is tomorrow. I so much hope that it all goes well. Not only do I want to move, and I have a rapidly shrinking deadline, but I've also paid for one inspection already, and I have yet to receive back my Earnest Money from the first property. Since I terminated my lease early, I have an extra month's rent to pay for the "privilege" of moving sooner, and this new property is 15K more than the original one, so my closing costs will be higher. <br />
<br />
To say that I just want to put this all behind me is an understatement, to be sure. We drove by the place today on the way to the grocery store, and I noticed they were having an open house. The realtor who is representing the seller markets himself as a "bulldog," and I couldn't help dropping in for a quick look at how it was going. The place was crawling with elderly folks, and Bulldog was a little long in the tooth, too. I told M to not say anything, that we were "undercover," and we walked around a bit. I noticed the old folks were straining a bit with the stairs, and spent a long time inspecting the basement. M was offended that people were touring "our" house, but I explained that they didn't know it was ours. I admit I felt the same way. I asked the realtor as we were leaving how long the place had been on the market and he said 4 weeks, but he did add that it was under contract. So that made me happy. He wanted to know if I wanted to be emailed any more information, but I told him I'd be in touch.<br />
<br />
Tomorrow is the inspection, so I figure we'll be in touch pretty soon!<br />
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<br />
Robert Ludlum captivated me with his stories for some time to come. He hooked me with his character Jason Bourne. I could empathize all too well with someone who had a past he wanted to escape and forget. <br />
<br />
Over the years, I have been blindsided countless times. Sitting in a movie theater, reading a book, or talking to someone, a subject comes up that I wasn't ready for, and I find myself unprepared to deal with the emotions that well up inside me. I sat in a dark movie theater<script type="text/javascript">
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</script> in 1994, tears completely blinding me, and had to be led out of Forrest Gump by my friend because the scene where Jenny threw rocks at that house had completely undone me.<br />
<br />
I have been imersed in a book and found myself taken down by a theme I was not aware was in the book. <br />
<br />
It happens all the time. It never gets easier. I wish I had armour against the onslaught, but I don't. And just as I'd feared, as my daughter approaches her seventh birthday, looking at her sometimes makes me want to double over in pain. I just don't comprehend how someone could hurt a seven year old child.<br />
<br />
This past week has been particularly hard. I've been woken up in the middle of the night several times by the fighting going on in the next door unit. That family's dysfunction is so hard to hear. It tears the protective coating right off of me. I've walked through my days this week with my patience worn down to the bone. I need to get away from here. I cannot stand to listen to angry voices, crying, and yelling. <br />
<br />
The townhouse complex that I'm trying to buy into had regulatory issues that they've been trying to resolve. My mortgage approval is contingent on them getting it taken care of, and I had to sign a contract extension on Tuesday, and it gave them until the day before my closing date to finalize. To say that it stressed me out is an understatement. I am hanging on to my composure with both hands.<br />
<br />
And of course, packing up our things and having boxes stacked in the livingroom has had an unsettling affect upon my daughter. She has crawled into my bed most nights lately, which of course makes it harder for me to get any rest. When I had my dear sweet Labradors, when we were moving from our house and everything was in chaos, one of them ran out to my car and sat in the front seat, stubbornly refusing to budge. It was clear that she was saying to me "look, you are taking me with you and I don't want to hear another word." My daughter seems to be feeling the same thing, at least on a subconscious level. How can I blame her?<br />
<br />
Work, naturally, has been a zoo lately. My mentor, whom I've grown to love, left the company on Friday. Another loss. Somehow I have lost most of the important women in my life, time and again. No wonder I am so solitary. No wonder I try to do everything by myself. It feels like the moment I trust someone and gain their intimacy, they are gone. I feel bereft, but what can I do? I have too many details to attend to, to feel sorry for myself for too long. There is always something to be done.<br />
<br />
I want so much for this new place to happen, to work out, and to be good for us. I want a safe, happy, productive sanctuary. Somewhere where we can thrive. I want to get a dog. I want things to make sense and feel right. I want to sleep at night and feel like we belong. I need the longing to run away and live somewhere far away to recede into the back of my head where my dreams lie, and stop coming into my consciousness as I try to get on with my day to day living. I want to feel normal, and ordinary.MtnMamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08486102684101822999noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2992111588558566834.post-76269934246454927842011-02-13T09:46:00.000-07:002011-02-13T09:46:03.757-07:00Chasing DetailsI'm about to go over to the Townhouse and meet a plumber. The water had been off for a long time and that had an adverse affect on some of the connections. So, before the appraisal, some minor repairs need to be done. He also needs to replace one of the shower faucets, and since I don't like the ones in place, I've picked up some new ones and I'm hoping he'll be willing to swap them out. <br />
Tomorrow is the appraisal, and I think it will go smoothly. But real estate has been in such a state of flux that the comps may be all over the place... that's the only thing I'm really concerned about as far as the appraisal goes.<br />
There are so many things to keep track of! And most of them are contingent on each other, so I feel like I'm building this enormous house of cards, or stack of blocks. All it takes is one thing to fall out, and the rest topple to the floor. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbx-7PjZNRl06kvICYRD3GYjaEyij0pKH7t2N-AfZhlpkBoB-mCwfJ6pCI6ATOFiahrv-HpppJz7Cmli3UbLgGUCaDrk1vZvEWMJrxO1cwAWvbe9L1WP2WXNbz8QCAJnE0VlBYrqZKtbw/s1600/images%255B4%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbx-7PjZNRl06kvICYRD3GYjaEyij0pKH7t2N-AfZhlpkBoB-mCwfJ6pCI6ATOFiahrv-HpppJz7Cmli3UbLgGUCaDrk1vZvEWMJrxO1cwAWvbe9L1WP2WXNbz8QCAJnE0VlBYrqZKtbw/s1600/images%255B4%255D.jpg" /></a></div>I've managed to find a home for my massive oak desk and my free-standing evaporative cooler, but I still have a few odds and ends to give away. I kept all the boxes from the last move, so pretty soon I'm going to start packing up my stuff. There is the cable to transfer and the post office to notify, movers to schedule and a window guy to set up. I've already taken a huge load of outgrown clothes and shoes and things to Goodwill, so along with the desk gone there's a big space open in the garage to start putting boxes. I have lists and notes written down that I consult with daily.<br />
<br />
The HOA for the Townhouse changed their management company last fall, and their financials got all tangled up - just in time to re-apply for their FHA certification, which they failed. The financials have since been straightened out, but their application won't be approved for 30 days, which misses my closing date. My mortgage broker is going to do a "spot approval" which he feels confident about and so hopefully my closing won't be cancelled or moved out too far. I'd hoped to have a few weeks to move and get the new place ready. M has picked out her paint color and is pretty excited about having a pink bedroom. I'm pretty excited about having a bigger kitchen. I'm crossing my fingers.<br />
<br />
On Tuesday I'm meeting Bob at a local restaurant. (He picked a good one.) I've talked to him a couple times on the phone and as much as I hate talking on the phone, I enjoyed it enough to look forward to meeting him. I wanted to wait until AFTER Valentine's Day, though. Such foolishness. Valentine's feels like Dodgeball to me. Out of all the years of my life that I can remember, I've maybe had a half dozen good Valentine's Days. I've had a LOT of terrible ones and some truly memorable horrific ones. I always hope it's going to land on a non-work day so that I can ignore it.<br />
<br />
M's class is having a party tomorrow and we have to pick up some Valentines for her to give out. I hope all the kids give one to everybody. They're better about that now than they were when I was her age. It's never too early to teach kids not to be mean.<br />
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<br />
I’m keeping my selection criteria limited to local guys between 45 and 55 years old. I know there that age affects different people in varying ways, but some of the guys that claim to be in this range seem to be... old. Like in more like my dad than the friends I know who are my age. Either that or the years have not been kind, and I want someone whose abilities and outlook match my own. I’ve got decades before I’m ready to get excited about Early Bird Specials and retirement communities. And quite a few of them should have someone help them with their photos and/or their profile narratives. The usernames are something else. I don’t know how other women feel about this, but I’m not enthusiastic about hearing from a guy who calls himself _Hot_, Mr Feelgood, or Easygoing. They sound like candy bars. <br />
<br />
So, I was pleased to talk on the phone to Bob (yet another Bob) this afternoon. He’s my age, and he looks like he’s still got some life in him. He’s a dad, has a daughter at CU, and has a job similar to mine. He sounded upbeat and normal. I’d really like to date someone upbeat and normal. That would be nice. It’s been a really long time since I spent time with a man who liked the same kinds of things that I do and was pleasant to be around. He said he wants to meet me, and so we’ll see.<br />
<br />
The thing is, I’m used to being on my own. I’m so used to it that I don’t know how good I am at making room for someone else. I accommodate myself for my daughter so much that I’m jealous of any spare moments I have to myself. I wonder what kind of dance partner I would make to someone these days. <br />
<br />
Sooner or later, I may get the chance to find out.<script type="text/javascript">
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I've already had a relationship (or two) where his Career Plans were vague or non-existent, and I already know how frustrating and un-interesting I think that is.<script type="text/javascript">
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</script> (Buster, anyone? Ex-husband from my dark and murky youth? No thank you.) It isn't about materialism, it's about mental engagement and drive. I am far too active and independent to want someone who can't form a solid idea. It would drive me crazy.<br />
<br />
So, realizing that the dating thing is going to be a process, and not a very satisfying one to begin with, I turned back to the things I've been looking into for a couple of years. Since October of 2008, I've been researching real estate in this area. I rented this townhouse so that I could get M settled into the school of my choice and then get myself situated job-wise and figure out the ins and outs of this community, since I used to live further north of where I live now. I pay a fairly high rent, but part of that is so that I could have the amenities I wanted and make sure I could swing this rate financially. It's been working out fine, so I have been feeling more and more like I'm ready to seriously investigate particular properties.<br />
<br />
Lately my real estate porn viewing has been rather obsessive. The internet won't answer all of the questions that a person has when they are looking for properites, but it is great for weeding things out that don't fit the criteria that you've chosen for yourself. I really want to keep M in the same school, so the school district website's boundary maps are very helpful. Then there is the plethora of real estate search engines to look up which communities have properties for sale and what's been selling and the various prices. Since I'm looking for a townhouse to buy, it comes down to the variables within a certain price range.<br />
<br />
I had it narrowed down to a list of three complexes. What browsing online will NOT help with, of course, is what these places look like in person. Pictures can be deceiving, and the condition of the building, the construction, and the fixtures, are all things that you just have to see for yourself. My real estate agent is a very sharp woman that has her ducks in a row, and I like her energy level and her no-nonsense approach. I also admire anyone who has managed to survive being in real estate through this depression.<br />
<br />
So, lists in hand, we set out this morning to investigate the places I'd chosen. I had a very good feeling about one complex in particular, but it is large and the units in the complex vary quite a bit in size and features, while still staying in a general range. I really want a garage, for instance, and some of them don't have one. This kind of thing is one of the things that is often unreliable when you're looking online; sometimes it is misstated, and sometimes the information is just missing. I also want a fireplace (this IS Colorado, after all) and it would be nice to have some kind of outdoor space, although that is not as important as a garage when it comes down to it. In fact, I've found that it's kind of "either-or" - they either have one or the other, but rarely both.<br />
<br />
I had found a complex that had both, and was excited about seeing them, but what I found by actually going to showings is that the interiors don't measure up to the exteriors, and that the properties are overpriced. One in particular was in not-such-great shape in the very things you can't tell by looking at pictures. The flooring was not finished very well; it looked like someone had done a quick and sloppy job, and it would be something I would have to re-do. The place was cleared out for showing, but random items had been left behind - again, the lack of attention to detail was a little disturbing. And it smelled funny. The concrete patio was in disrepair, the bathrooms needed work, and the price was higher than the other properties on my list. Along with being too close to the freeway, it just didn't measure up in the end.<br />
<br />
At the complex that was much more promising, one of the units we looked at was just awful. On the front door there was an alert sticker to the fire department that the property had a dog and two cats. As soon as we'd opened the front door, I knew I wanted to leave. The place smelled very strongly of cat. The occupant clearly was still in residence, and the whole living space looked as if it wasn't cleaned very often. The carpet was covered in pee stains. It was incredible. The icing on the cake, as it were, was the mechanical chair lift bolted to the staircase. We turned down the opportunity to look at the rest of the rooms.<br />
<br />
The one that fit every one of my wish-list items except one (an outdoor patio) DID have a balcony. And a two car garage, and a wood-burning fireplace, and two master bedrooms, and a separate laundry room, and a nice sized kitchen. It isn't too close to the pool, it is right next to the greenbelt we love to walk and ride our bikes in, and it has a brand-new carpet. It's currently unoccupied, is squeaky clean, and is in great condition. We're putting an offer in as soon as I hear back from my finance guy.<br />
<br />
I could be in before school lets out for the summer! I am so excited!MtnMamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08486102684101822999noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2992111588558566834.post-32928901491297219602011-01-13T20:49:00.000-07:002011-01-13T20:49:52.864-07:00Bachelor Number TwoOne of the first guys that contacted me on the Current Dating Site seemed like a nice guy, but we started emailing each other right when Denver got its first measurable snow and the temperature plummeted, and I was home with the child on her Winter Break. There was no chance of meeting up until she was back in school, so it took until this afternoon to arrange something with him.<br />
<br />
After last Friday's fiasco, I was not quite as enthusiastic, and I was a little bit worried that I wouldn't be able to recognize Bachelor Number Two because the pictures he supplied were from 2002. But he sounded nice, and he works in IT like me, and he has a black Lab. I have a very soft spot for black Labs... as I'm still missing Maggie and Molly with a sharp ache. <br />
<br />
He suggested a place that I know, and was coincedentally the spot I met a date the LAST time I was doing this whole Internet Dating Thang. THAT guy had been a real prick, but I decided not to hold it against the restaurant. <br />
<br />
You can never predict the traffic crossing town after work, but I needed to stop by the library and pick up a book I'd reserved, so I left work and headed out. After being in the single digits all week, today was quite nice and the icy, snowy streets were melting. I made it to the library in no time, and then arrived at the restaurant location with a half hour to spare, so I popped into DSW Shoes to browse. It's amazing that out of dozens of pairs of black leather boots, I couldn't find just the right pair, but I enjoy looking at shoes. At the appointed time, I crossed the parking lot and entered the restaurant.<br />
<br />
He wasn't there. And after ten more minutes, he still wasn't there. The place wasn't busy yet, so I got the benefit of every server and hostess and even the manager staring at me. The manager even asked me if I was doing okay. I smiled and told him he could only help me if he'd found a guy in his restaurant sitting by himself waiting for me. <br />
<br />
Just when I was about to leave, there he was in front of me. He still had his sunglasses on, so it took me a second... and his hair is grey, but when he removed his glasses and smiled, I saw that it was him. We sat down and ordered a beer, and started talking.<br />
<br />
And he was nice! (and I never saw a cellphone!) He talked mostly about his work, but he asked me a lot of questions about mine, as well. He seemed eager to find things we had in common, which was flattering. I enjoyed talking to him, and if I hadn't had to leave to go pick up M, I would have been happy to stay longer. I told him that I had to go, and he offered me his contact info. I was pleased that he wasn't trying to rush things.<br />
<br />
When I realized that I had to leave Right Then, or risk being late, he understood, and didn't try to follow me to my car. I left and picked up M and we went home and had dinner and we then we got started on her homework. Only then did I check my email, and he'd sent me a brief, friendly message.<br />
<br />
So I chatted online with him for a bit, while I monitored M's homework progress, then I told him I'd talk to him later.<br />
<br />
This one has possibilities! <script type="text/javascript">
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</script> On paper, he looked very promising: nice looking, accomplished, confirmable background and reasonable profile. The five kids gave me pause, but in my online fact checking - possible because he'd given me his first name and phone number - showed that he was, as he claimed, divorced. He wanted to meet me and I set up a time. I felt pretty hopeful about him being as interesting as he appeared to be. We agreed to meet at a local restaurant.<br />
<br />
The first thing I noticed as I pulled up in the parking lot and spotted him right away was his very expensive and sporty silver car. The second thought that crossed my mind as I got out and stood next to him was "5'11" my ass." But he did look just like his profile picture, so I shrugged that off and followed him inside.<br />
<br />
The bar of the restaurant was nice, with lots of granite and wood surfaces and pleasant colors. We took a seat and ordered our drinks, and started to chat. While we were talking, I noticed a few things. He was pretty proud of himself, but lacked any balancing humor or self-depreciating remarks to make himself seem less stuffy. He at one point stated that he did pretty well for himself financially (I hadn't asked; we were talking about the cost of living in Northern California. I don't care if you're Bill Gates. It still costs an awful lot more than it should to live in the Bay Area.). <br />
He could carry on a conversation and was interesting to talk to, but he wasn't funny at all. He referred to his ex-wife in very derogatory terms. He seemed to think I was making a favorable impression - yay me - but I doubt if it occurred to him that HE was on trial, too. I remember being put off by his view that the 1950s had been an idyllic period in American history. I didn't reveal that I'd checked out his background on the Internet; I just listened to him talk and noticed things that stood out.<br />
There were few discrepancies in his story, but one of them was rather glaring: he'd described himself as "completely free to set his own schedule" (including a bit of taunting about how he never had to get up early, after I mentioned how I get up at 5:30), but it turns out that he has those five children every other weekend. And although he'd had them for a large chunk of the Winter break, he apparently was unaware that it was his weekend again. <br />
The first of what turned out to be a multitude of cellphone calls, which he mistakenly identified as being from his business partner, was his ex-wife wondering why he wasn't at home to meet the children she was dropping off. He stepped away to take the call, but I could tell it wasn't a happy chat. It seems his brood, which he described as "able to take care of themselves" had a key to get in, so he couldn't understand what the problem was. When I asked, he told me they ranged from eight years old to fifteen. In my head, I was calculating that his ex-wife, whom he referred to as the cliched "ball and chain," had produced 5 kids in 7 years, but he had the attitude that his part of that had been just as hard as hers. And as he'd divorced five years ago, they'd been three to ten at the time. I'm sure my face betrayed my opinion of this.<br />
<br />
But the real kicker to the time we spent together was that he kept pulling out his cellphone, looking at who was calling, making some prediction about who was calling him and why, and then getting up and walking a short distance away, and conducting his calls. Over and over again.<br />
Not long after we'd arrived, the place filled up, so that there was a man and woman sitting to my right. They were friendly and had said hello when they sat down, and when my date kept getting up to take his calls, they remarked on it to me. I informed them that we were on a first date with a wry grin, and the man had the decency to look horrified and they both made consoling comments.<br />
When our drinks were finished and it was time to leave, we walked out to our cars and he stopped beside them to tell me he'd enjoyed our date. I know I said something to the effect that he owed me at least a half hour - my way of letting him know I didn't appreciate his behavior. Rather unexpectedly, he leaned in for a kiss. He took me off guard, and his lips were too soft and spongy. I broke away and got in my car, glad to have the date over, and thankful that the darkness hid my grimace.<br />
<br />
Later, when I looked at my phone, I saw that he'd called three hours later and had left me a voicemail. <br />
He told me how he'd had a great time and said something like he was giving me back a half hour (so he'd heard me) but there was nothing like an apology in his words. He sounded self-satisfied and smug. He said he'd talk to me soon. Today there were two emails from him. I deleted them without responding.<br />
<br />
I am not going to see him again. That's one down.MtnMamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08486102684101822999noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2992111588558566834.post-512318719919025072011-01-04T19:43:00.001-07:002011-01-04T19:45:08.961-07:00ResolutionsI'm not generally a big fan of New Year's Resolutions, mostly because I understand human nature, and I've been in gyms in January and also in April. I'm a firm believer that in order to successfully get someone to do something, you have to make it as easy as possible for them, and you have to make sure they get something out of it that they want. I don't believe in guilt or shame.<br />
So it's surprising to me that I've gone ahead and made two of them myself for 2011, because neither of these is easy, and the returns on one of them is questionable. And I'm writing about it so that I've "put it out there" to make it more substantial. We'll see how it goes...<br />
<br />
#1 - Get back to my most healthy weight and fitness level.<br />
At the beginning of October I started going to my employer's sponsored "boot camp" fitness classes twice a week, and yoga on Fridays. I am MUCH stronger and feel better and am sleeping better since I began, but so far there's been no weight loss. Therefore, as the new session began this week, I determined to be more conscientious of what I'm eating and be more mindful of my drinking, because I think I've been too lazy in this area. I really, really don't want to become one of those people who turns into a fat, out-of-shape blob as they age, and I know now how easy it would be for it to happen to me. All I have to do is stop paying attention. I'm a master at rationalization, so making excuses is no problem. Inertia will do the rest.<br />
Ideally, I'd like to shed 15-20 lbs.<br />
<br />
#2 - Date<br />
I haven't gone out with anyone in over ten months. I've been busy, I'm a full-time single mom, and the people I meet are all at work. Like with the exercise, it's been easier to just stay in my comfortable little rut, ignoring that whole part of myself. In the meantime, I watch myself getting older and I miss feeling the way that a man who is interested in me can make me feel. The tipping point for me this time around was a guy at work telling me that he wanted to have an affair with me. A married guy, and he was serious.<br />
I don't think he realizes what he is offering me - or rather, how little. That kind of thing is just table scraps, not a seat at the table. I'm hungry, but not so much that I am willing to give up my self respect. This doesn't even factor in how foolish it would be to jeopardize my job, or how stupid it would be to try to explain it to anyone I know; I'd have to keep it a secret, and I have no room in my life for that kind of shenanigans.<br />
So, I asked my friend who's a "serial dater" to recommend a site, and he told me about one that he uses, and I put myself out there. <br />
So far, I've heard from a number of men I'd never consider, and a couple of interesting prospects.<br />
And I have a great babysitter now, so there is hope. We'll see how it goes.<br />
I <u>am</u> going to my company party solo, however. <br />
<br />
By the Summer Solstice, I'm hoping to be svelt, fit, and much more "social." I plan on going into 50 kicking, if not screaming.<script type="text/javascript">
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</script>MtnMamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08486102684101822999noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2992111588558566834.post-84430763425015947542010-12-24T21:38:00.000-07:002010-12-24T21:38:54.307-07:00Christmas At Our House<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I have both good and bad Christmas memories... intertwined. Many of them involve my older half-brother, since for most of our childhood, it was the two of us and lots of adults. My two younger siblings came later. In the Santa years, getting up far too early and then waiting impatiently for the clock to creep along until we were allowed in the front room where the Christmas tree and the stockings waited, it was him and me. So amid the memories of waking everyone up the year we just couldn't wait and snuck in and started playing his new table hockey game with the surprisingly loud ball bearings, and it was something god-awful like 5 am., there is remembering the year he got the new green five-speed Stingray bike, and I got a basket and new seat for my old bike. I remember fondly my little red Panasonic am radio with the single white earplug. That radio was how I listened stealthily to Motown and the Beatles and Karen Carpenter after lights out in bed. I remember expensive candy and unique surprises in our stockings each year that I know now were my mother's special touch. I remember really fine ribbon candy in dishes and making dipped chocolates and my mother's roast beef gravy. I remember getting Timex watches. One year, it was my first, with a leather strap that buckled, and later, a silver digital watch with a Twistoflex band.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>I remember, year after year, how I loved to sit in the front room alone at night, with only the dying fire and the glow of the Christmas tree lights. I would sit in the dark room and watch the fire, and soak in the peace and quiet so rare in our house.<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I have a big Spiegel box that I've kept my own Christmas tree ornaments and my collection of decorations over the years. In the past couple years, I've really enjoyed getting down the box and opening it with my daughter. I always get a real tree, and my preference is for short-needled trees like a Douglas Fir. I have little multi-colored lights and my ornaments consist of traditional glass balls (the numbers of which seem to slowly diminish over time as accidents happen) and a large variety of individual old fashioned, many handmade ornaments. I have a wolf ornament and a couple of glass unicorns, and two black labs. I have a small silver dove with a blue crystal eye that I got for my daughter's first Christmas. My tree topper is an old silver spire that I'm amazed has lasted this long. This year M added a pink princess castle ornament to the tree that she bought with her dad , and I was given a sparkly purple ball topped with purple Maribou feathers by my mentor at work. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwT9GLdmpV32e_zRr-pyauX6N34YfB9fuy7JlkLRdQ54XLOBVS1BdshHoj7a0o3zMohiO-CIinpRPiOyNk93kdHuZckM8qGfSzyQTNPQ6LvGL8f3IiQxQwetc6_w_ec38X2IAh63b99pM/s1600/DSC03288.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwT9GLdmpV32e_zRr-pyauX6N34YfB9fuy7JlkLRdQ54XLOBVS1BdshHoj7a0o3zMohiO-CIinpRPiOyNk93kdHuZckM8qGfSzyQTNPQ6LvGL8f3IiQxQwetc6_w_ec38X2IAh63b99pM/s320/DSC03288.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">This week we went to the Botanic Gardens Trail of Lights, and froze our butts off with my friend, as we walked along the paths with the colored lights and the little groups of people in the dark. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKZdUzEGhe7el72bYO2a_DsdbN2J-C51u-eV9o2Xbb7PnNlRasdHHIwQFkxmL5aSsdRbdb6MDr3m_oL4QAnyp0iNtwJ25V3zDWFRGLqZoU5d_LFOCC9761Cc8h3gau4Exb0MGX6H6zrW0/s1600/IMG_20101222_185924.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKZdUzEGhe7el72bYO2a_DsdbN2J-C51u-eV9o2Xbb7PnNlRasdHHIwQFkxmL5aSsdRbdb6MDr3m_oL4QAnyp0iNtwJ25V3zDWFRGLqZoU5d_LFOCC9761Cc8h3gau4Exb0MGX6H6zrW0/s320/IMG_20101222_185924.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Today M decorated a gingerbread house<script type="text/javascript">
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</script> . This year I bought a kit; last year I made the gingerbread from scratch. Last year I was unemployed and had lots of time and little money. This year I have a job and very little time. I had only today off from work and next Friday as well. The money situation was so different - this year I was able to make donations and even give money to help make Christmas special for a needy family I've never met. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim2KREIo6s5AJi4HhIW1_RIgnzpyyoY_tEvJCQKr8guiCTS1RyApHpJttOM8XGUexICcOpWK4yIC9hVc2nckH2JE_QcGr3aAGG4R-d5oFnk4SzEUSrqV4Fm25BwHpybco3Z9q6Cgyz5C4/s1600/DSC03296.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim2KREIo6s5AJi4HhIW1_RIgnzpyyoY_tEvJCQKr8guiCTS1RyApHpJttOM8XGUexICcOpWK4yIC9hVc2nckH2JE_QcGr3aAGG4R-d5oFnk4SzEUSrqV4Fm25BwHpybco3Z9q6Cgyz5C4/s320/DSC03296.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"> Now, as I write, M is lying in her bed upstairs, probably asleep by now... it's not quite 9 pm, but I want to give it a little more time, to be sure. The lights downstairs are dim, the Christmas tree lights are twinkling softly. I've played the Holiday Channel on KBCO.com for days, but now the music is off, and only the hum of my computer and the sounds of the dishwasher compete with the click of the keyboard. This year, there are presents under the tree from both sets of grandparents, from me, and today a box came from Buster. Pretty soon, I will bring out of hiding the presents I as Santa got for M, and put them in her stocking and on the floor in front of the fireplace. (It's a gas fireplace. There is no chimney. M has no problem with this; she blithely explains that Santa is magic.) All day long we checked NORAD's Santa Tracker online. She has been highly motivated by the belief that Santa is monitoring her actions. This morning she cheerfully emptied the dishwasher to demonstrate to Santa her goodwill. She expects presents and has been electrified with anticipation.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzwd1D9Yzi2NaWTxpZgaVOsIA0HJ7A7dFfufFVaKz5l7lz9te08oGxd4hlcH2A518LSYgAgz4un3QL55uDsVos23lfjl8r4XqdaIHYqPw3SPdwKZoRXVXvxqbuuvdZeyD1fAPk6CqCgMY/s1600/DSC03297.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzwd1D9Yzi2NaWTxpZgaVOsIA0HJ7A7dFfufFVaKz5l7lz9te08oGxd4hlcH2A518LSYgAgz4un3QL55uDsVos23lfjl8r4XqdaIHYqPw3SPdwKZoRXVXvxqbuuvdZeyD1fAPk6CqCgMY/s320/DSC03297.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">My mother sent me a box that I know is See's chocolates, an iTunes gift card, and M made me something at school. That is all that lies under the tree for me. As usual, I bought myself a couple of nice things, taking advantage of the annual sales. I'm pretty excited about the new bicycle pump waiting in the garage for a warm day. I have a few new sweaters.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Tomorrow, after M wakes me up and we come down in our jammies to open the loot, I will make a pot of coffee and watch her tear into the wrapping paper. I will make cinnamon rolls for our breakfast and hot chocolate for her. I have crab legs and zucchini for dinner, and a nice bottle of French Beaujolais. I'm hoping to read and nap midday. At some point we will webcam with the grandparents and the absentee father.</div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">If the day is mild, we may go for a walk in the greenbelt or ride the trailer bike. I am looking forward to a quiet weekend and treats. I don't have a lot to do at work next week; it is the lull before the January storm, and it will be hard to keep busy. Thank goodness my boss offered to let me work from home a couple days, and minimize the number of days M has to spend in Arvada, at my Plan B childcare, since her regular one is closed for the week. Less driving and disruption for me - and I really appreciate it.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">This year closes with more peace and tranquility than ever. I am enjoying my daughter and where we are right now. Things are stable and manageable, and I'm in a good place. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!</div>MtnMamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08486102684101822999noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2992111588558566834.post-47732377071264073322010-12-12T19:22:00.002-07:002010-12-12T19:25:50.663-07:00Trying to get out of my own wayThe past several days have been consumed by M’s dad coming to visit. I have a lot of my own feelings about him and how it is to deal with him, but my daughter was very happy to have him here.<br />
And I cannot ignore that she is my bottom line; her happiness is my Prime Directive. <br />
<br />
More than one friend has told me recently that I need to “let it go.” My indignation and frustration with his antics and his stubborn refusal to cooperate and grow the fuck up drives me crazy. The problem is that I am the only person suffering from it. My daughter is too young to understand or care about the intricacies of our negotiations. She is a child, and she cares about what children care about: she wants to have her daddy around and to do things with him. The rest is dry leaves swirling past in the wind, as far as she is concerned.<br />
My friends are correct in their concern. I recognize the pattern in my life: I hold on to my righteous anger because inside, I think that if I don’t, that it means I’m saying that the “bad behavior” of the person who has wronged me is not that bad. That it’s okay. And I can’t do that. Too many people wanted to gloss over all the horror of my childhood, told me I needed to smile more, and told me to “get over it.” My bitterness was my protest march. My anger was my front page statement that it was NOT okay. I was standing up for myself in the only way I knew how.<br />
<br />
But I know how to take care of my daughter – and myself – now. Carrying around this cauldron of bile isn’t making anything better, and it is sapping my energy. I need that energy for the good things I have in my life that make sense for me and my child.<br />
I lose nothing by setting it aside. No one is fooled. No one thinks Buster is doing right by us. <br />
<br />
I got through this weekend without incident. I sat and made conversation, kept myself out of the room and out of the activity as much as I could, given the circumstances, and for the most part, kept my mouth shut. In the long run, the bottom line was satisfied. He insisted in going out to eat, and he paid. He couldn’t figure out how to spend the time with M, so I did, and they muddled through in his usual manner. It meant that I sacrificed the entire weekend to his ineptitude... but I can spare a weekend. My daughter finally got the new pair of tennies that she needed, and there were no fights.<br />
<br />
I realize that he will tell people whatever he will tell them, and that it just doesn’t matter.<br />
In the end, I am still the one raising my daughter, and that his sporadic visits, even if they should increase in frequency, really don’t change anything. He is who he is, and – as the song says – time is on my side.<br />
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Wise words.<br />
I think about why that has been hard for me, and I think that perhaps, growing up as I did, for a long time the future was all I had to hold on to. I didn’t want to be "present." I was pretty good at disassociating from what was happening to me and in front of me, and comforted myself with dreams of something else, something better.<br />
Being present seemed artificial. It was what people who lived in a different world talked about.<br />
<br />
I recently found a letter my (now deceased) therapist wrote to me many years ago. I was at a crossroads, and was reaching out for guidance. She succinctly summarized for me what I had left to do, in order to find the peace and happiness I so earnestly sought. She told me that I needed to get my financial house in order, and find a better job. She understood how misplaced I had been for so long. She knew better than I how powerful it is for a woman to have control of her money. She was trying to help me comprehend the importance of stability and continuity. She was right.<br />
<br />
She also talked about my bond with my nephew, and told me that I needed to sort that out. It was always in my heart that I wanted a child of my own. I am so deeply moved and fulfilled that my fondest wish came true. It still seems so unbelievable. <br />
<br />
Because I was not used to the pleasure of making a plan, setting a goal, and having things fall into place. I didn’t grasp how much of an effect I could really have on my reality. I was just learning to leap onto the seat of the racing wagon, grab the reins of the runaway horses, and steer it to safety. I barely believed it was possible.<br />
<br />
But despite my bumbling and stumbling, I followed her advice. It worked out amazingly well. I am no longer paralyzed with the anxiety that living beyond my means created. I don’t worry about catastrophes falling on me like hail. I am no longer merely a pawn, eking out my existence at the mercy of some irrational Assistant Manager, afraid to speak my mind, and denied simple human dignity. The walls I have built are no longer to keep people away; they now form a strong foundation that shelters me. I can now choose to trust some people, because fundamentally, I trust myself.<br />
<br />
The future is no longer the Promised Land. Right now seems tolerable, even enjoyable, most of the time. I have earned the luxury of contemplating the wisdom of living in the moment.<br />
<br />
It’s nice to have this kind of challenge.<script type="text/javascript">
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<br />
Then early Friday morning, after I'd dropped off my daughter and was almost at work, as I drove down a gently sloping road in the business park, I came upon an accident. It was obvious that it had <u>just</u> happened, and also that the occupant(s) of the vehicle I saw could not still be alive.<script type="text/javascript">
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</script> Within seconds of my brain registering the upside down and crushed car to my right, I was surrounded by emergency respondent vehicles as they arrived on the scene. I had already been going pretty slowly, but was forced to a stop in the middle of the road, effectively hemmed in on all sides. My eyes kept returning to the mangled car, as I scanned the area around me as it rapidly filled up with fire truck, ambulance, and several police cars and other official workers I couldn't identify. <br />
<br />
I sat there in my car for only a few minutes, I think, but time had already shifted. I twisted around in my seat and noticed that the traffic going the opposite direction was just now being affected, and cars were beginning to seek detours. I was right up against the landscaped median on my left, a compact truck stopped directly in front of me, and the accident at 2 o'clock. Behind me was the only gap in the road, and it was full of the cars further back trying to turn around and find another way. All around me where the flashing lights of the emergency trucks. It wasn't yet 7:30 am. <br />
<br />
I watched as a man in a fireman's coat and pants lay on his belly and tried to shimmy under the wreckage. It didn't look like there was enough room for him to get very far, but the car had landed - hard - on its roof, and bits and pieces were scattered on the road. I thought about how fast it must have been going to have flipped as it did. I am glad that I wasn't there when it actually happened. <br />
<br />
I lowered my right window and got the attention of one of the guys who was standing near my car. I asked him what I should do. He took in my predicament immediately and motioned for me to hang on a minute, then he walked behind my car and helped make a passage out for me. He walked back and told me to back up.<br />
<br />
By the time I'd manuvered away from the scene, I had no clear idea how to get to my office building, but thought I'd head East and wait for something to look familiar. Luckily, I soon found my way, and was pulling into the parking area. As I came into the building, I passed a woman I work with who also comes in early like me, and I stopped to tell her about it. She comes in by the same road I do, and we realized that she had passed through there mere minutes before it had happened, just as I had come through just afterward.<br />
<br />
A look passed between us. We talked about how lucky we had been. It helped to talk to her right away like that, because I was shaky and felt weird. I walked to my desk and put away my things, and got a cup of coffee and looked for a traffic report online. When I found it, it said the accident had happened at 7:24.<br />
<br />
On Fridays I have a yoga class at noon, and I was grateful for it that day because it helped a lot, but by the afternoon I had a splitting headache. I know my boss would have let me leave early, probably even that morning, but I'm not the person who asks for help - I don't acknowledge right away how much something has affected me. I went through the motions all day Friday, but my mind was on the accident and all the associations in my head to car accidents and trauma, and how life can change in an instant. A work friend invited me for a quick drink after work, and I accepted, but it didn't help. I just wanted to go home and be with my daughter.<br />
<br />
Saturday, I never changed out of my jammies. I watched all the shows in my DVR, and three or four movies on cable. I fed myself and M, and went online a bit, but otherwise I was a vegatable all day. I thought briefly of the laundry I needed to do and a couple other things, but I couldn't rouse myself to do them.<br />
<br />
I felt better by Sunday morning, but something had been decided in my brain. M has been talking a lot about Thanksgiving, and how she thinks it should be done this year, and all it has made me feel is tired. I just don't have it in me to pretend to get involved in something I don't feel invested in right now, and yet I do like to make occasions festive. We are not traveling to see family, as we just did that in August. I am not interested in being part of another family's Thanksgiving; it doesn't feel right. My single friends that I've spent holidays with in the past have other plans this year. It came to me what I wanted to do.<br />
<br />
There is an old restaurant up in the mountains that puts on a fancy Thankgsiving buffet that I've attended in years past and enjoyed. President Eisenhower was a visitor there once. They decorate, and have a large dining area, and it is fun and the food is good. Just down the road is a nice hotel. I made reservations for M and myself to go to the Thanksgiving dinner at the restaurant and then spend the night up there, so that I don't have to worry about the weather and I can drink and enjoy the festive atmosphere and we can be safe. This way I don't have to do a thing except drive up there and pull out my wallet. We can dress up and have fun and I don't have to fret. On Friday we can go into Evergreen and walk around. It's perfect.<br />
<br />
I feel better already.MtnMamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08486102684101822999noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2992111588558566834.post-65661913891649494282010-10-31T17:36:00.004-06:002010-10-31T20:15:33.293-06:00What, Me - exhausted?I was at M's school at 2:15 on Friday afternoon - and it was stiflingly hot. But how much fun to stand around watching the kids cycle through their party activities and then watch them have Halloween snacks. While I sweated in my tank top (having already shed my cardigan). <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM6U9ETwiOcuaYNxoOhk6PAqM-d0wbz9C6dDmD7YA7CVbPCvx4zGPsz6M3ZildrnNad-p_mSj4I3PHbZFXaLSBRaPkBWCpatRsKtWtXbST8TSBKr4vNqjcofk_5LiKz89MD8qY7ng3PFU/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM6U9ETwiOcuaYNxoOhk6PAqM-d0wbz9C6dDmD7YA7CVbPCvx4zGPsz6M3ZildrnNad-p_mSj4I3PHbZFXaLSBRaPkBWCpatRsKtWtXbST8TSBKr4vNqjcofk_5LiKz89MD8qY7ng3PFU/s320/3.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Then there was the parade, which involved the entire school marching in single file around the school, then the "dance" (which was more like a rave) and then the cafeteria for "pizza" and soda. Oh, and then M said she wanted to leave, but on the way to the car, it turned out she only meant "leave the cafeteria" - so she was having a meltdown at just the exact moment my boss called about an important file. Which I wouldn't have heard if we hadn't been outside, so... So Fun.</div><br />
Then there was a birthday party at Skate City. My personal Hell. Crowded, noisy, BAD music, chaos, and M doesn't roller skate - but HAS to go, because her friends do - so we go through the Five Stages of Skating. Every. Time.<br />
<br />
Excitement, Denial, Putting on the Skates, Not Skating while Crying, and Anger. Love it.<br />
<br />
This time, I even put the f*#@ing skates on myself and did a lap with her. While she yelled at me in panic not to let her fall and cried, complete with me falling in a Spectacular manner (managing to make sure she fell on top of me). I don't roller skate, did I mention that? Despite my stunning athletic abilities, roller skating has remained at the top of my Most Despised List. All of this while being assaulted by the pounding, awful, conversation-cancelling "music". Pure Joy. <br />
<br />
Oh, and the parents of the birthday girl handing me a couple dollars in quarters when they realized that the only thing M could really do was play arcade games, and they felt bad for inviting her when she couldn't skate. (sweet, but a little fucked up, don't you think? I mean, are we supposed to feel bad for the kid who can't do the thing we include them in? What message does that send? And do I really look like I couldn't handle the several dollars I'd already pumped into the machines one quarter at a time, via my suddenly blood thirsty daughter who was killing the arcade games, winning an impressive 120 tickets in 45 minutes?) The birthday girl's mom told me what time to be back at the table for cake and presents, so we had time to kill. I explored the weirdness of sharing the quarters among the little kids crowding around the games we were playing without crossing the line into scary creepy adult at the arcade (none of these kids we knew). I found it best to quickly offer to stick a single quarter in the game next to ours for the kid standing longingly watching us, no money in their pocket. There were plenty of these. I managed to share the pile of quarters without it even causing M to pause in her motions.<br />
<br />
There are the actually sweet minutes when the birthday girl opens M's present first, exclaims with genuine joy over the rainbow unicorn birthday card that M picked out, and is in rapture over the present M gave her. And then M crowds around the other little girls as the rest of the presents are opened and they ooh and aah together over the loot. Too quickly, Skate City declares the party over, and we file out.<br />
<br />
There was the magical moment when she accidentally broke a glow stick, and I had to pull over in a Lowe's parking lot and find the wipes and help her clean up. Special.<br />
<br />
This afternoon, carving the pumpkin on our driveway in the blazing sun (it IS October, right?) The little Hell Gang of snotty brat girls, riding the pink electric car up and down the street in front of us, running around in their costumes already and exaggeratedly ignoring M. The little girl she'd finally begun to play with, who has just in the past couple days thrown her off again, because another girl who used to live here moved back. But of course the lure of the pink car is too much for M, and she goes to ask if she can have a ride. The two girls stand there, reluctant and torn. They have been told to let M have a turn, but M needs someone to ride with her; she doesn't know how to operate it and will never be the one to just wing it.<br />
<br />
I cross the street and ask the girls if one of them will ride with M. They look everywhere but at M, frowns on their little faces. Clearly, this is something they are not willing to do. The mother of the pink car comes over. What is wrong? I explain. She tells her daughter to ride with M. Her daughter refuses. The mother, the woman whose husband has been so badly injured, climbs into the pink car and gives M a ride up and down the block. I thank her and appreciate it, but by now the girls have all scattered, and M is standing alone on the street. All the other parents sit in their circle of lawn chairs on the driveway two doors down, smoking, drinking, and gossiping.<br />
<br />
We go back in side and wait for sundown, so that we can trick or treat in our neighborhood.MtnMamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08486102684101822999noreply@blogger.com4