National Novel Writing Month, of course. Well, if you're me, it's "of course." Certain events this week have irrevocably confirmed that I am at heart a storyteller. It's just my nature, as the scorpion said. (Everyone who got that reference, pretend you didn't.)
After taking the kids 'treating tonight, I went to counseling and discussed this topic (the storytelling, not the scorpion) with my therapist. She said, "Well, that explains some things..." Then I went to a NaNoWriMo kickoff party and talked to some people who really understood what I was talking about. One of them had gotten her gown stuck in the car door on the way in, and we spent some time figuring out how she could work that little episode into her novel. It's what we do.
I love spending time with people who "get it." The rest of you, I apologize, but this next month is going to be all NaNo, all the time.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
Pieces of Me
I apologize for neglecting my dear blog friends lately. You all know about the ongoing chaos that brought me to where I am, and can probably guess how busy things are for me as a disabled single mom these days. Fortunately, I'm not alone in this; my folks have been awesome to step in and help when I'm incapacitated by the latest migraine or whatever.
Recent weeks have been full of trips to doctors and other specialists (courtesy of my dad, who is determined to get me cured somehow), so I've been pretty busy. Days like today, when I take "dizzy pills" and go in for medical procedures involving several needles, generally knock me down for the count. I am still loopy, but somehow I haven't got the message that I shouldn't try to work in this condition. (You would not believe the number of edits I've made in this post already. At least I still recognize errors when I see them.)
One of the docs I saw this week suspects I have fibromyalgia (I always wanted to be just like Jen!) and gave me some new meds to try. So I'm trying them. As invested as I am in this SS Disability case, I'd much rather have my health back. After all, like Count Rugen said, "If you haven't got your health, you haven't got anything." More fun and games to follow, I have no doubt.
Recent weeks have been full of trips to doctors and other specialists (courtesy of my dad, who is determined to get me cured somehow), so I've been pretty busy. Days like today, when I take "dizzy pills" and go in for medical procedures involving several needles, generally knock me down for the count. I am still loopy, but somehow I haven't got the message that I shouldn't try to work in this condition. (You would not believe the number of edits I've made in this post already. At least I still recognize errors when I see them.)
One of the docs I saw this week suspects I have fibromyalgia (I always wanted to be just like Jen!) and gave me some new meds to try. So I'm trying them. As invested as I am in this SS Disability case, I'd much rather have my health back. After all, like Count Rugen said, "If you haven't got your health, you haven't got anything." More fun and games to follow, I have no doubt.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Long-Distance Love
...going out to #1 Son tonight. It was his birthday today, but we weren't able to get hold of him. TM didn't answer his cell phone and hasn't given me his new home phone. Not sure we have the right address for them, either.
If you hear something, it's the sound of my heart breaking as I realize I've lost yet another son.
If you hear something, it's the sound of my heart breaking as I realize I've lost yet another son.
Saturday, October 04, 2008
Scholar Mom
I just need to brag for a minute:
Punkin Boy got Student of the Month his very first month in school!
That's gotta be a record or something.
Now back to your regularly scheduled programming.
Punkin Boy got Student of the Month his very first month in school!
That's gotta be a record or something.
Now back to your regularly scheduled programming.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Old Things Are New Again
Maybe it was out of new-in-town loneliness, maybe it was boredom, or maybe it was the spam I got, but whatever the reason, I recently popped on over to Classmates.com. Most people have done it at some point or other, but I, at least, used to get pretty disgusted and bored within the first 5 minutes because you couldn't actually communicate with your friends. I mean, what's the point of knowing they're out there somewhere if you have to pay $30 to just send an email to see if they remember you? Come on... Even the new Facebook is WAY better than that.
Well, they've changed some things, and I'm starting to feel a little better about Classmates. You can leave messages on your own page, though you still can't see your own guest book or tell anyone how to contact you... well, not openly. Not if they catch you. But I digress.
I've been spending some time on Facebook lately, too. And I've found a few of my old friends on both sites. Some people I barely remembered, but the names rang a bell or two. As I've looked at their photos and other things they've posted, the memories have begun trickling back to me. With some people more than others. And it's interesting to see what's happened in their lives over the (many, many) years. (The swaggering Casanova got his master's degree? The obsessive knitter became a computer programmer? Who'd'a thought?)
As I pondered all this, wondering at times why I even bothered, I started to smile. It occurred to me that I was refreshing myself in the spring of my creativity. Writers know what I mean: every person and place and thing that we've ever known is stored in memory, waiting to come out to populate and furnish our stories. I have plenty of material. And now I have the tools to reach it. Can hardly wait for November.
Well, they've changed some things, and I'm starting to feel a little better about Classmates. You can leave messages on your own page, though you still can't see your own guest book or tell anyone how to contact you... well, not openly. Not if they catch you. But I digress.
I've been spending some time on Facebook lately, too. And I've found a few of my old friends on both sites. Some people I barely remembered, but the names rang a bell or two. As I've looked at their photos and other things they've posted, the memories have begun trickling back to me. With some people more than others. And it's interesting to see what's happened in their lives over the (many, many) years. (The swaggering Casanova got his master's degree? The obsessive knitter became a computer programmer? Who'd'a thought?)
As I pondered all this, wondering at times why I even bothered, I started to smile. It occurred to me that I was refreshing myself in the spring of my creativity. Writers know what I mean: every person and place and thing that we've ever known is stored in memory, waiting to come out to populate and furnish our stories. I have plenty of material. And now I have the tools to reach it. Can hardly wait for November.
Monday, September 08, 2008
In Retrospect: One Year
One year ago this weekend, my beloved husband, the man of my dreams, the light of my life, broke my heart into bits and turned my life upside-down. Because I loved him so much and wanted so much for our family to stay together, I responded with compassion and forgiveness. I tried extra hard to be the best wife I could be; I obviously had plenty of flaws.
In response to my efforts, my husband closed himself off from me. I cried. A lot.
Weeks went by, and I started to wonder why I kept trying when he seemed so uninterested. I still wonder.
One night he slept in the basement and I found a note in a woman's handwriting giving directions to another woman's house. It could have been innocent. He says it might have been. He doesn't really know, though. Apparently, he's given up rational thought.
That was only the beginning of what I found. In the next 12 hours, I had enough to start divorce proceedings. But I didn't. I threw the bum out, and when he called later, I chewed him out, too.
And then I took him back. Well, he'd confessed and said sorry, he'd gotten medical and psychological treatment, and he'd actually taken some steps to return to being the man I loved. I thought he meant it. I really wanted it to work.
It's not that I don't know that wishing doesn't make it so. I do. But it was more than wishing, I thought.
We started marriage counseling in January, and he started experimenting with his meds. I could tell instantly when he wasn't taking them, but he didn't see the difference. Therapy went poorly as he remained uncommunicative and unapologetic. "It's in the past!" he'd say, "Can't we just move on?"
I hear that's a typical cry of unfaithful husbands. I hate that I had to hear it from mine.
But I kept trying. My beautiful little boys kept me trying to hold the marriage together, no matter what. Seeing what #1 Son has gone through with his divorced parents over the past 11 years kept me resolutely opposed to putting my babies in that position, ever. I'd suffer if I had to, but I couldn't let that happen to them.
Finally, I realized that I couldn't shield them anymore. For starters, I overheard Pirate Boy saying to his little brother, "Daddy's a little crazy." More than once. And my husband was neglecting not only his family, but his work and school. When he did work, half the time the money never saw our bank account. It was getting desperate.
But you know what? I could have dealt with all that if only...
...if only my husband still loved me.
But he doesn't, and I can't take it anymore. I just can't.
And yet... like a hopelessly romantic idiot, I'm giving him one last chance. He has one year. One year to become the man the children and I need him to be. One year to be a decent husband and father. One more year.
Think it'll happen?
In response to my efforts, my husband closed himself off from me. I cried. A lot.
Weeks went by, and I started to wonder why I kept trying when he seemed so uninterested. I still wonder.
One night he slept in the basement and I found a note in a woman's handwriting giving directions to another woman's house. It could have been innocent. He says it might have been. He doesn't really know, though. Apparently, he's given up rational thought.
That was only the beginning of what I found. In the next 12 hours, I had enough to start divorce proceedings. But I didn't. I threw the bum out, and when he called later, I chewed him out, too.
And then I took him back. Well, he'd confessed and said sorry, he'd gotten medical and psychological treatment, and he'd actually taken some steps to return to being the man I loved. I thought he meant it. I really wanted it to work.
It's not that I don't know that wishing doesn't make it so. I do. But it was more than wishing, I thought.
We started marriage counseling in January, and he started experimenting with his meds. I could tell instantly when he wasn't taking them, but he didn't see the difference. Therapy went poorly as he remained uncommunicative and unapologetic. "It's in the past!" he'd say, "Can't we just move on?"
I hear that's a typical cry of unfaithful husbands. I hate that I had to hear it from mine.
But I kept trying. My beautiful little boys kept me trying to hold the marriage together, no matter what. Seeing what #1 Son has gone through with his divorced parents over the past 11 years kept me resolutely opposed to putting my babies in that position, ever. I'd suffer if I had to, but I couldn't let that happen to them.
Finally, I realized that I couldn't shield them anymore. For starters, I overheard Pirate Boy saying to his little brother, "Daddy's a little crazy." More than once. And my husband was neglecting not only his family, but his work and school. When he did work, half the time the money never saw our bank account. It was getting desperate.
But you know what? I could have dealt with all that if only...
...if only my husband still loved me.
But he doesn't, and I can't take it anymore. I just can't.
And yet... like a hopelessly romantic idiot, I'm giving him one last chance. He has one year. One year to become the man the children and I need him to be. One year to be a decent husband and father. One more year.
Think it'll happen?
Friday, September 05, 2008
Real Life Adventures
It doesn't seem like it's been that long since I last wrote. But in the last 10 days or so, my little Punkin has had a great beginning to kindergarten-- and I think has learned that he does not actually ride the bus home from school. Pirate Jones is having a terrific time in 3rd grade-- not only learning cursive (which he's doing great at), but going beyond the keyboard's home row. They have typing class every day. And he loves it. Cool.
As a bonus, we got to experience serious small-town life over Labor Day weekend. Every year, this little town (much bigger now than it was when my grandparents lived here) has this agricultural celebration whose name I'd tell you but it pops right up on Google, so never mind. But there's a parade, a carnival, fireworks, a floral show, an art contest (in which this year my dad usurped his brother for the Honorable Mention prize), and all manner of very serious silliness. I don't have to tell you, the kids loved it. And I really enjoyed being able to sit out on the back steps in the cool evening air and watch the brilliant fireworks explode over the town park. Awesome stuff.
Meanwhile, I'm trying to keep up with my weekly deadlines, which isn't too hard given the slowdown in one project and the slacking writers on the other one. (OK, I need to get the whip cracking on them; I'm slacking, too.) I got my car registered on Wednesday (with both kids in tow, which ought to earn me a medal the way they were acting) and am feeling pretty good about that.
Thursday was an adventure. I walked the kids to school like I usually do, enjoying the cool weather and the sunshine, and was most of the way back when-- it sounds melodramatic-- I was attacked by a pack of dogs. Now, it wasn't a huge deal. I mean, they were small dogs and it was a small pack of them. I basically ignored them until a little Doberman-thing bit me. At that point, I had to face them down. "What the ---- do you think you're doing?" My next thought was how glad I was that the kids were at school. If they'd been around, I'd have had to wring some little dog necks, and I'd hate to have my boys see that.
I'd just barely showered and changed into less hole-y pants when I heard my phone go off and discovered a voice mail rejecting me for the condo I wanted up on the hill. Well, rats. Now, it's still possible that I can get into the (low-income) apartment that my cousin's just moving out of, less than a mile from my folks' place. That would be sweet. Here, the "low income" housing is well cared-for and gorgeous. Three bedrooms, three baths, manicured lawns and all. I'll let you know how that turns out. I am on a waiting list, after all.
When I went back to the school to take Pirate Jones some clean clothes (don't even ask), I mentioned the dog situation to the front office people, and maybe they passed it along, I don't know. Today I drove the kids to school and noticed several moms walking their kids and (leashed but alert) dogs along the route. I've been tempted to tell my kids what a cool thing happened just around the corner, but I don't want them to be afraid to walk in this neighborhood too. I'll just stick with them... and maybe take a stick with me.
As a bonus, we got to experience serious small-town life over Labor Day weekend. Every year, this little town (much bigger now than it was when my grandparents lived here) has this agricultural celebration whose name I'd tell you but it pops right up on Google, so never mind. But there's a parade, a carnival, fireworks, a floral show, an art contest (in which this year my dad usurped his brother for the Honorable Mention prize), and all manner of very serious silliness. I don't have to tell you, the kids loved it. And I really enjoyed being able to sit out on the back steps in the cool evening air and watch the brilliant fireworks explode over the town park. Awesome stuff.
Meanwhile, I'm trying to keep up with my weekly deadlines, which isn't too hard given the slowdown in one project and the slacking writers on the other one. (OK, I need to get the whip cracking on them; I'm slacking, too.) I got my car registered on Wednesday (with both kids in tow, which ought to earn me a medal the way they were acting) and am feeling pretty good about that.
Thursday was an adventure. I walked the kids to school like I usually do, enjoying the cool weather and the sunshine, and was most of the way back when-- it sounds melodramatic-- I was attacked by a pack of dogs. Now, it wasn't a huge deal. I mean, they were small dogs and it was a small pack of them. I basically ignored them until a little Doberman-thing bit me. At that point, I had to face them down. "What the ---- do you think you're doing?" My next thought was how glad I was that the kids were at school. If they'd been around, I'd have had to wring some little dog necks, and I'd hate to have my boys see that.
I'd just barely showered and changed into less hole-y pants when I heard my phone go off and discovered a voice mail rejecting me for the condo I wanted up on the hill. Well, rats. Now, it's still possible that I can get into the (low-income) apartment that my cousin's just moving out of, less than a mile from my folks' place. That would be sweet. Here, the "low income" housing is well cared-for and gorgeous. Three bedrooms, three baths, manicured lawns and all. I'll let you know how that turns out. I am on a waiting list, after all.
When I went back to the school to take Pirate Jones some clean clothes (don't even ask), I mentioned the dog situation to the front office people, and maybe they passed it along, I don't know. Today I drove the kids to school and noticed several moms walking their kids and (leashed but alert) dogs along the route. I've been tempted to tell my kids what a cool thing happened just around the corner, but I don't want them to be afraid to walk in this neighborhood too. I'll just stick with them... and maybe take a stick with me.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Passing Time
(That one's for you, Nyssa.)
For those of you who were wondering, we're here. ("We are here, we are here, we are HERE!" to quote a Seuss.) We've been here for, oh, 10 days or so; no troubles making the trip, and only a few of them trying to fit all our worldly possessions into my parents' garage.
"We," by the way, is three: the Pirate, the Punkin, and me. TM and #1 Son remained behind to sabotage any hope of us getting our house sold (you only think I'm kidding). And this week, #1 Son is left behind almost all the time as TM goes to work and school. Child Protective Services have already stopped by, of course.
Strangely, out of all this, I find that having my children settled in school is the most important thing to me. Pirate Boy (who's really more interested in Indiana Jones these days) started 3rd grade last week and is loving it. His teacher is awesome.
And the big news of course is that my (not so) little Punkin is off to kindergarten in less than 9 hours. His teacher is already bragging about him. He's fine; I'm a little nervous. Guess I'd better take my own advice and get some sleep before the big day.
More later.
For those of you who were wondering, we're here. ("We are here, we are here, we are HERE!" to quote a Seuss.) We've been here for, oh, 10 days or so; no troubles making the trip, and only a few of them trying to fit all our worldly possessions into my parents' garage.
"We," by the way, is three: the Pirate, the Punkin, and me. TM and #1 Son remained behind to sabotage any hope of us getting our house sold (you only think I'm kidding). And this week, #1 Son is left behind almost all the time as TM goes to work and school. Child Protective Services have already stopped by, of course.
Strangely, out of all this, I find that having my children settled in school is the most important thing to me. Pirate Boy (who's really more interested in Indiana Jones these days) started 3rd grade last week and is loving it. His teacher is awesome.
And the big news of course is that my (not so) little Punkin is off to kindergarten in less than 9 hours. His teacher is already bragging about him. He's fine; I'm a little nervous. Guess I'd better take my own advice and get some sleep before the big day.
More later.
Friday, August 08, 2008
Busy as...
Holy cow. Not only have I been madly cleaning and (when it's not raining) painting the house, but now I'm packing frantically. A week from today, I'll be heading west with my children to our new home in time for them to start school. Meanwhile, I've got a lot to do.
Once this is all over, I'll probably check into a hospital for the pain I'm inflicting on my back. Don't have time now, though. Life is nothing if not interesting.
Once this is all over, I'll probably check into a hospital for the pain I'm inflicting on my back. Don't have time now, though. Life is nothing if not interesting.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
This Time...
...you really wouldn't believe it. The thing I came home to. Really, truly, oh-my-gosh-what-happened-to-my-house time. The exterior I'm not going to mention, except that what wasn't dead (lawn) was overgrown (mostly weeds). I've spent today working on painting the trim, which was supposed to be taken care of, watering the lawn and battling the rosebushes. BUT...
...when I came through the door last night after my trip through the nothing of Wyoming, the inside of the house looked like a tornado had hit it. (It still mostly does, since I mostly worked outside today.) Seriously, there was barely any room for one person to walk in here. And the beds and other surfaces were covered with... stuff. Junk, toys, old clothes that were in the basement... just stuff.
So here we are, at bedtime, greeted by TM wearing a bathrobe and offering the kids cupcakes, while I try to clear space for them to sleep. The month's mail was on the dining table, unopened. Including our utility bill, which is 10 days overdue, and all our other bills. There was something unidentifiable in the kitchen sink; it had obviously been rotting there for at least a couple of weeks. And the only milk in the fridge was long past its date.
Here's what you really won't believe. Even when I looked around at the disaster, smelled the atrociousness, and had to fight for a place to step, I did not actually turn around and say, "I cannot live in this filth!"
But I did think it really loud.
It's like he wants me to leave him for good next time.
...when I came through the door last night after my trip through the nothing of Wyoming, the inside of the house looked like a tornado had hit it. (It still mostly does, since I mostly worked outside today.) Seriously, there was barely any room for one person to walk in here. And the beds and other surfaces were covered with... stuff. Junk, toys, old clothes that were in the basement... just stuff.
So here we are, at bedtime, greeted by TM wearing a bathrobe and offering the kids cupcakes, while I try to clear space for them to sleep. The month's mail was on the dining table, unopened. Including our utility bill, which is 10 days overdue, and all our other bills. There was something unidentifiable in the kitchen sink; it had obviously been rotting there for at least a couple of weeks. And the only milk in the fridge was long past its date.
Here's what you really won't believe. Even when I looked around at the disaster, smelled the atrociousness, and had to fight for a place to step, I did not actually turn around and say, "I cannot live in this filth!"
But I did think it really loud.
It's like he wants me to leave him for good next time.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
As Time Goes By
Now it has really been a week, and I'm feeling a little sad that so much of our vacation is over. Feeling a little annoyed, too, that I can't get Picasa to let me log in and post pics on here. 'Cause boy, my kids are cute, and they have been having so much fun lately.
Getting into a world of trouble, too, some days. We still don't know what bit Pirate Boy on our last day of camping (Saturday), but whatever it was, it made his eye swell shut and his arm swell up like a balloon, and it was pretty sad to see. Once again my wonderful dad came to the rescue, taking care of him so well and then taking him to a doctor (who said we'd been doing all the right things anyway).
So now Pirate Boy is well again and going a mile a minute for more hours of the day than normal. Did you know the sun stays up later here? Well, there aren't all those pesky mountains to block its light here. Not so many, anyway. So we stay up late, eat lots of good stuff (pizza and ice cream tonight), play and swim and explore and visit... My kids had their first visit to a movie theater today-- Kung Fu Panda, I'm sorry to say. But they enjoyed it, so it was worth the trip.
And somehow, I made my deadline today and am more or less keeping current on my work. Which is good because we have lots more planned for the next couple weeks. After that, I have no plans at all, and that's kind of scary. I guess I'll cross that narrow, rickety bridge when I come to it.
Meanwhile, the phone at my house hasn't been ringing this week, according to TM. And even the answering machine isn't giving him clues about when we're calling. At least, he's not answering tonight. Well, we've always got email...
Getting into a world of trouble, too, some days. We still don't know what bit Pirate Boy on our last day of camping (Saturday), but whatever it was, it made his eye swell shut and his arm swell up like a balloon, and it was pretty sad to see. Once again my wonderful dad came to the rescue, taking care of him so well and then taking him to a doctor (who said we'd been doing all the right things anyway).
So now Pirate Boy is well again and going a mile a minute for more hours of the day than normal. Did you know the sun stays up later here? Well, there aren't all those pesky mountains to block its light here. Not so many, anyway. So we stay up late, eat lots of good stuff (pizza and ice cream tonight), play and swim and explore and visit... My kids had their first visit to a movie theater today-- Kung Fu Panda, I'm sorry to say. But they enjoyed it, so it was worth the trip.
And somehow, I made my deadline today and am more or less keeping current on my work. Which is good because we have lots more planned for the next couple weeks. After that, I have no plans at all, and that's kind of scary. I guess I'll cross that narrow, rickety bridge when I come to it.
Meanwhile, the phone at my house hasn't been ringing this week, according to TM. And even the answering machine isn't giving him clues about when we're calling. At least, he's not answering tonight. Well, we've always got email...
Monday, July 07, 2008
Wild Boys
Hmm, first day of our vacation, and it feels like it's already been a week. I'd say "You would not believe the day I've had," but you probably would. It started... well, really, it started last night when we finally rolled into town (the one my folks live in) sometime after 10 p.m. after a wild and wet trek across Wyoming and a pause to run shrieking around the yard with my tiniest niece, Little Cat, who was thrilled to have her mama cat home after 3 days.
To my boys, who had spent the day in Grandpa's car, Grandma's house was "paradise." Apparently paradise is a place with big fluffy beds to jump on and a computer in your room. Possibly to use in your sleep. So after locating jammies and calling to tell Daddy (TM) goodnight, my kids hit the sheets around midnight. Not to say they actually fell asleep then. Pah.
Well, I agree about the fluffy beds, though I did more of a pass out than anything else on it. And good thing, too, 'cause just after 6:30 this morning, I heard Pirate Boy's sweet voice floating through the bedroom door: "Mama, somebody threw up in my bed last night!" Oh joy. "OK, I'm up." They slept in, after all.
Apparently long car trips, lots of junk food, and late nights in combination really don't agree with my Punkin. He was a sick little man most of the day. Between cleaning up after that and dealing with the various plumbing and medical emergencies we managed to inflict during the day, my poor dad didn't accomplish much else today. Fortunately, he likes to feel needed.
Also fortunately, Pirate Boy entertains himself pretty well. Before my folks were even out of bed this morning, he had created a new user account for himself on the den computer and installed his LEGO Indiana Jones game on it. Before dinner, he had played all the way through Raiders of the Lost Ark. And run around like a monkey with his cousin Darla. And eaten my folks out of house and home. And played outside on the swingset for hours on end.
I called TM this evening to tell him about our amazing day, but first I asked how he was doing. "What a day!" he exclaimed. "You, too, huh?" Yeah, he'd shown up for the first day of a 4-week job only to be told "Oops, we changed our mind. Didn't anyone call you?" Um, no. So he spent most of the day job-hunting and being sick to his stomach. (He & the Punkin are psychically linked, I tell you.)
As I was talking to him, I was dressing the boys for bed (multi-taskers unite-- when we can get a minute). It went OK for a minute or two, then I got Punkin's shirt off him. What the heck is he doing covered with red welts? Looks like an allergic reaction, though my folks first thought it was measles. ("No way, he's had all his shots!") Yeah. So I handed the phone to Pirate Boy and ran off to deal with that.
Sigh. Just another day with the Wild Bunch.
So now everyone's gone to bed except me. I'm up editing and doing laundry like a good responsible mama. (Yes, I already have a whole batch--more, actually-- of laundry to do on our first day here. And yes, that's after we washed the sheets and blanket from the wild boys' bed.)
It's not exactly what I expected, but I'm glad I'm here.
To my boys, who had spent the day in Grandpa's car, Grandma's house was "paradise." Apparently paradise is a place with big fluffy beds to jump on and a computer in your room. Possibly to use in your sleep. So after locating jammies and calling to tell Daddy (TM) goodnight, my kids hit the sheets around midnight. Not to say they actually fell asleep then. Pah.
Well, I agree about the fluffy beds, though I did more of a pass out than anything else on it. And good thing, too, 'cause just after 6:30 this morning, I heard Pirate Boy's sweet voice floating through the bedroom door: "Mama, somebody threw up in my bed last night!" Oh joy. "OK, I'm up." They slept in, after all.
Apparently long car trips, lots of junk food, and late nights in combination really don't agree with my Punkin. He was a sick little man most of the day. Between cleaning up after that and dealing with the various plumbing and medical emergencies we managed to inflict during the day, my poor dad didn't accomplish much else today. Fortunately, he likes to feel needed.
Also fortunately, Pirate Boy entertains himself pretty well. Before my folks were even out of bed this morning, he had created a new user account for himself on the den computer and installed his LEGO Indiana Jones game on it. Before dinner, he had played all the way through Raiders of the Lost Ark. And run around like a monkey with his cousin Darla. And eaten my folks out of house and home. And played outside on the swingset for hours on end.
I called TM this evening to tell him about our amazing day, but first I asked how he was doing. "What a day!" he exclaimed. "You, too, huh?" Yeah, he'd shown up for the first day of a 4-week job only to be told "Oops, we changed our mind. Didn't anyone call you?" Um, no. So he spent most of the day job-hunting and being sick to his stomach. (He & the Punkin are psychically linked, I tell you.)
As I was talking to him, I was dressing the boys for bed (multi-taskers unite-- when we can get a minute). It went OK for a minute or two, then I got Punkin's shirt off him. What the heck is he doing covered with red welts? Looks like an allergic reaction, though my folks first thought it was measles. ("No way, he's had all his shots!") Yeah. So I handed the phone to Pirate Boy and ran off to deal with that.
Sigh. Just another day with the Wild Bunch.
So now everyone's gone to bed except me. I'm up editing and doing laundry like a good responsible mama. (Yes, I already have a whole batch--more, actually-- of laundry to do on our first day here. And yes, that's after we washed the sheets and blanket from the wild boys' bed.)
It's not exactly what I expected, but I'm glad I'm here.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Keeping You Posted
Just a couple of quick items. First (and most important), my Pirate Boy has turned 8 and will be baptized this Saturday by his grandpa. For reasons most of you are familiar with, this is a really painful situation for me, but I'm trying to keep a joyful perspective for the sake of my darling boy. It may be painful for him, too. He certainly looked pained when he asked, "But why can't Daddy baptize me?" He'd been really looking forward to the experience.
Second, the kids and I will be leaving town the next day for a longish stay with my family. We're very much hoping that our home and at least some of our life will still be here for us when we return. But there's no way to know at this point.
Second, the kids and I will be leaving town the next day for a longish stay with my family. We're very much hoping that our home and at least some of our life will still be here for us when we return. But there's no way to know at this point.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
A Little Announcement
... on behalf of my dear sister Sylvia, who has (you may have noticed) been missing from blogland for the past several months. I haven't heard from her much myself, what with her crazy schedule and my crazy everything, but...
She called tonight to announce the birth of the newest denizen of Neverland: a healthy baby boy delivered (finally!) by c-section, much to the relief and pride of all involved. And there was much rejoicing.
She called tonight to announce the birth of the newest denizen of Neverland: a healthy baby boy delivered (finally!) by c-section, much to the relief and pride of all involved. And there was much rejoicing.
Monday, June 23, 2008
She's So Darn Predictable
Well, Satan did exactly what I said she would, within a few hours of hearing about her boy flunking. Down to saying the school was too hard and rejecting the notion that it was just as possible for her boy to pass as it is for mine. (Well, you know, it's not as hard for second-graders as for seventh-graders! No, um, comparatively, it is. Exactly as hard.)
So she's got a lawyer on the case, and she's outlined her demands, which she (and probably everyone she knows, except us) thinks are completely reasonable. And she's reminded TM that he has no money to fight her on it. I hate that woman. She's completely predictable, like the vulture that came and ate Prometheus' liver every day. And there's just as little that we can do about her.
I asked TM what he thinks we can do. I'm all for putting our house up for sale, as-is, cheap, and getting what cash we can from it before the bank takes it away. The potential lawsuit is just another reason we need to. TM doesn't think so, so we're not. His plan is to get the transcript from our last court battle, which, as some people may remember, turned out so very well.
Then he asked me, "Do you remember what year that was?"
Ummm... yeah. Right down to the date and the hour. It was the turning point of my whole life, and you're asking me? Right.
Just don't ask me to do it again.
So she's got a lawyer on the case, and she's outlined her demands, which she (and probably everyone she knows, except us) thinks are completely reasonable. And she's reminded TM that he has no money to fight her on it. I hate that woman. She's completely predictable, like the vulture that came and ate Prometheus' liver every day. And there's just as little that we can do about her.
I asked TM what he thinks we can do. I'm all for putting our house up for sale, as-is, cheap, and getting what cash we can from it before the bank takes it away. The potential lawsuit is just another reason we need to. TM doesn't think so, so we're not. His plan is to get the transcript from our last court battle, which, as some people may remember, turned out so very well.
Then he asked me, "Do you remember what year that was?"
Ummm... yeah. Right down to the date and the hour. It was the turning point of my whole life, and you're asking me? Right.
Just don't ask me to do it again.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Lasting Impressions
OK, I've had a chance to do some analysis on the kids' report cards ('cause that's what I do; I can't help myself) and some reflection on our life. Pirate Boy does have overall great grades, and #1 Son does have overall lousy ones. But the year's worth of grades tell a sad story.
Even accounting for the week of strep they both had this spring that set them back in their homework, both kids' grades slipped after last fall. More specifically, after the relationship between TM and me went to hell last fall. And kept slipping.
Dang. Maybe #1 Son would be better off with Mommy dearest after all.
I'm gonna cry.
Even accounting for the week of strep they both had this spring that set them back in their homework, both kids' grades slipped after last fall. More specifically, after the relationship between TM and me went to hell last fall. And kept slipping.
Dang. Maybe #1 Son would be better off with Mommy dearest after all.
I'm gonna cry.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Miracle of Miracles
Got the kids' report cards today. Finally, someone has done the necessary yet unpleasant deed: #1 Son will be repeating seventh grade next year. Hallelujah. Now of course Satan will be militantly trying to get him transferred to her obviously superior care because the school we've had him in is simply not teaching him.
It's inconceivable that he's simply not learning what they're trying to teach, or-- as is painfully apparent to everyone in this area-- that he's learning but not bothering to do the assignments that would allow him to pass. After all, the other schools he's been to have passed him every year whether he does anything or not.
And why do we not have him in those schools anymore? Anyone?
Think the current school is too hard? Well, it has been in the top 3 ranked schools in the state since its inception, and it does have rigorous standards of academics and behavior. But it's certainly not impossible to do well there. (Says Pirate Boy's proud mama, looking at all those A's on his report card.)
Several of the 7th grade teachers bothered to write notes on the grade sheet, along these lines: "#1 Son does well on tests but doesn't turn in homework." One goes so far as to say he gets A's on every test, participates well in class, obviously knows his stuff, but has turned in only one assignment for the year. So.... it's fail time.
And it's about time, too.
It's inconceivable that he's simply not learning what they're trying to teach, or-- as is painfully apparent to everyone in this area-- that he's learning but not bothering to do the assignments that would allow him to pass. After all, the other schools he's been to have passed him every year whether he does anything or not.
And why do we not have him in those schools anymore? Anyone?
Think the current school is too hard? Well, it has been in the top 3 ranked schools in the state since its inception, and it does have rigorous standards of academics and behavior. But it's certainly not impossible to do well there. (Says Pirate Boy's proud mama, looking at all those A's on his report card.)
Several of the 7th grade teachers bothered to write notes on the grade sheet, along these lines: "#1 Son does well on tests but doesn't turn in homework." One goes so far as to say he gets A's on every test, participates well in class, obviously knows his stuff, but has turned in only one assignment for the year. So.... it's fail time.
And it's about time, too.
Saturday, June 07, 2008
My So-Called Life
Got an email today from my long-lost friend MJ, who's currently in transit from Budapest to Bangkok; it made me smile. We went to spy school together ages ago when we were both young and ... not exactly naive, but much less experienced than we are now. And with less gray in our hair. (Sigh.)
MJ asked me to send the URL for my blog again, so I did, but then I realized it had been a while since I updated. Well, I thought, that will give her a chance to catch up on the last few major catastrophes in my life. But I couldn't do that to her. So here's a short update. Well, that was most of it, honestly. ;-)
In other news, I've got some new clothes! Well, OK, I got these clothes last fall from my dear sister Sylvia, in a care package she sent when my life was falling apart. Most of the clothes fit fine, but a few of them (mostly jeans) were just too tight. So I set them aside wistfully and had a great time wearing the other stuff. But just lately the other stuff (including things I've been wearing since before Pirate Boy was born) has gotten too big. As in, falling off me, big. And I'm plenty big myself. So I decided, what the heck. I got out the "small" stuff. Zipped up those jeans on the first try. That was a couple weeks back. Now the "small" jeans are getting big on me, too.
Can someone please tell me why? Bizarro world is my new life.
Which reminds me, the marriage counselor doesn't want to see both of us together anymore until we're "on the same page" about why we're going to therapy. Although I agree with her diagnosis, I'm not sure about her methods. Maybe a new counselor.
MJ asked me to send the URL for my blog again, so I did, but then I realized it had been a while since I updated. Well, I thought, that will give her a chance to catch up on the last few major catastrophes in my life. But I couldn't do that to her. So here's a short update. Well, that was most of it, honestly. ;-)
In other news, I've got some new clothes! Well, OK, I got these clothes last fall from my dear sister Sylvia, in a care package she sent when my life was falling apart. Most of the clothes fit fine, but a few of them (mostly jeans) were just too tight. So I set them aside wistfully and had a great time wearing the other stuff. But just lately the other stuff (including things I've been wearing since before Pirate Boy was born) has gotten too big. As in, falling off me, big. And I'm plenty big myself. So I decided, what the heck. I got out the "small" stuff. Zipped up those jeans on the first try. That was a couple weeks back. Now the "small" jeans are getting big on me, too.
Can someone please tell me why? Bizarro world is my new life.
Which reminds me, the marriage counselor doesn't want to see both of us together anymore until we're "on the same page" about why we're going to therapy. Although I agree with her diagnosis, I'm not sure about her methods. Maybe a new counselor.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Bloody Weather
Yeah, it's been a weird weather day, as you may have heard. Twisters everywhere, power outages, school lockdowns, hail-battered cars. One of the guys TM's working with this week heard the following from a friend in a bit of a quandary: "I tried to go to work, but when I got there the building was gone. So I went home-- well, I tried to..." You guessed it, that was gone, too.
On the other hand, TM got out of work early. And our therapist canceled our appointment tonight. ("Marriage Counseling Called on Account of Tornadoes" makes an awesome headline, don't you think?) But since we had a sitter already, we got to have a date-- a REAL date. We saw Indiana Jones 4 and it was heaven. (Me: "Cate Blanchett?! Really?!") And the kids had fun, too. So it was good for us.
[P.S. I totally wanna be Cate Blanchett.]
On the other hand, TM got out of work early. And our therapist canceled our appointment tonight. ("Marriage Counseling Called on Account of Tornadoes" makes an awesome headline, don't you think?) But since we had a sitter already, we got to have a date-- a REAL date. We saw Indiana Jones 4 and it was heaven. (Me: "Cate Blanchett?! Really?!") And the kids had fun, too. So it was good for us.
[P.S. I totally wanna be Cate Blanchett.]
Friday, May 09, 2008
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