The mind is a mysterious thing. The subconscious can remember all sorts of things that the conscious self is completely unaware of. This I've learned extensively about, especially recently.
The boyfriend, usually cheerful, has been grumpy. He said the spring is hard for him. Early spring was his wedding anniversary with his late wife, and late spring/early summer, she died. They didn't have a lot of time, so I've been told. She was diagnosed, treated, re missioned, then re diagnosed. After the re diagnosis they thought they had several months, but they only got 6 weeks. Isn't that horrible? 6 weeks. And it went fast.
It's kind of an awful spot to be in, really. I mean, his subconscious is aware of it, and I know that on a conscious level, things seem fine. He's moved on tremendously well. He's raised Macy to be a lovely bubbly girl, so smart and full of spunk, albeit slightly indulged at times. But I can see it eating away at him right now, and he blames it on everything but that. The weather, Macy's behavior, his allergies and sinuses, being tired. I don't know why he won't just say it. He's sad. For fuck's sake, who wouldn't be?
It's hard for me to watch him be sad. It's also hard for me when he's grumpy. I'm not sure what to do, and frankly, I'm getting tired of it. It would be one thing if he were grumpy and he'd admit it to me - ya know? But I ask him what's wrong, and he gives me these lame excuses, which don't warrant the behavior.
Like for instance today. Tonight is date night. We try to have date night once a week. I'm a nanny, he has a child. I need one night a week with him without any children around. I don't think this is too much to ask for - none of the beautiful children in my life are mine, and I just need one night a week with my boyfriend, all of the others I'm more than happy to spend with somebody else's children. So he got a sitter. This morning he emailed me and said that his sitter emailed him and said that she awoke with a sore throat, and wasn't sure she could make it tonight, but that he asked her to keep him posted throughout the day. Um, lame. Not him, her.
As a side bar, totally lame. I know this sitter, and she's ridiculous. She charges more per hour than I do, and she doesn't change any diapers, Macy is 8 and puts herself to bed. We've come home and the sitter has been asleep in the guest room bed. This sitter sets her own hours, brings stuff over to make rice krispy treats then takes them all home with her (who does that, they're rice krispy treats for God's sake not caviar canapes), and is now cancelling because of a sore throat? Pah-lease. She's not french kissing Macy, simply making sure she doesn't burn down the house. I could get an arm amputated and not cancel on somebody, I know how important date nights are to parents. Just wait you sitter, just you wait.
So I ask the boyfriend, could you try to find somebody else in the meantime and just tell "the sitter" that you hope she feels better so we can still go out? Sure he says, and he does. Thank you boyfriend, thank you. Then he sends me a cryptic email that says, "So and so can come, but I'll be pretty late." Ok, what does that mean? We're meeting people for dinner. 20 minutes late? 30 minutes late? 2 hours late? Come on. Work with me here. So rather than continuing this email charade, I pick up the phone and call him, and he doesn't answer. Great. You just emailed me from your "smart phone", yet you can't pick up. Passive aggressive anyone? So I leave a cheerful message along the lines of thinking it would be easier to connect in person, and just curious about how late is late, and blah blah blah...call me when you can, thanks, click.
So he does. And he's g.r.u.m.p.y.
- Ok, so what's wrong now?
- Oh, well, I had to do all these errands today.
- (Oh really, poor guy.) And?
- Well, and I don't have everything figured out for this weekend.
- (We're supposed to go away this weekend with Macy to a neighboring state since it's Memorial Day weekend.) Ok - well, we don't have to go you know.
- Well, Macy is looking forward to it now.
- Well, you can always tell her that it isn't going to work out.
- Well, yeah, but she really wants to go.
- Ok, well, do you need some help? You can ask for help if you need it. (Please hear, stop pouting like a 4th grader.)
- I don't know.
- Ok, well, I'm sitting at my computer and I can help look up some stuff.
- Yeah, sure.
So I do, and I'm telling him, and he's still grumpy.
- Are you gonna be ok?
- I just have a lot to do. (Really. I'm in the middle of working on my free-lance stuff, so do I, but I stopped to help.)
- Where are we eating tonight anyway?
- Well, there are three options on the table, Dave is in a meeting as soon as he gets out we'll all decide, I can send you an email with the address.
- Yeah, ok. I gotta go.
So I follow through with what I say I'll do, even though I'm not very happy about it, because I feel like he's being rude.
Mostly what I feel is hurt. When he won't tell me what's going on, I feel isolated and alone, and that makes me feel really sad.
I hate to see him sad, and I wish that he could trust me enough to tell me what was going on. I wish that he could trust me enough to tell me that he didn't want to go out tonight if he doesn't want to go.
I get tired of trying to decipher through the mood swings to figure out what is going on, I'd like for him to use his words.
I have significant dates of my own. They include him, and I'd like to have more. I'd like to move forward and not be stuck in the past.
I have a friend who is going through a nasty divorce. She has children with this man. She said to me the other day that she has often wondered if it would be easier if he had died rather than having to divorce him. I said, well, it is definitely easier in some respects...there isn't another woman making my life hell, that's for sure, but there are different issues that you have to deal with, different types of ghosts so to speak.
An untimely death of a spouse sucks. I don't know how else to say it. I love the boyfriend and Macy so much. It is a strange situation to be in their lives because of a tragedy such that they they have experienced. If I could erase it for them, I would. I hate that that had to live through that pain, but I cannot express to you how incredibly happy I am to have them in my life. It's a complicated journey, this one that I'm on. Every day is new and different, and we are learning a lot along the way.
I pray for wisdom everyday.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Going Away Shoes
Inspired by the Emerging Writers Network–who dubbed May as Short Story Month again this year, Fiction Writers Review is excited to propose a community effort by lit bloggers to raise attention for short story collections: Short Story Month 2010: The Collection Giveaway Project.
To participate in Short Story Month 2010: The Giveaway Project:
(1) This month, post an entry on your blog recommending a recently published short story collection (or two, or three). The post can be long or short, a review or merely a rave. The one requirement is that you, the blogger, have read and loved the book(s) in question.
(2) Offer a copy of the book (or each book) as a giveaway to one lucky person who comments on your blog. You can choose the winner through a drawing, or by the wittiness of his/her remarks, or by whatever criteria you choose.
(3) Announce the winner(s) on May 31, 2010, and arrange to send out copies of any books you are giving away.
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I couldn't have stumbled upon The Giveaway Project at a better time.
On Sundays, as I mentioned in a previous post, I like to read the SundayStyles section of the NY Times.
On Saturdays we have a different ritual. Macy wakes us up at 7:30, argh, cursed cursed morning. However, I always try to make the most of it. The boyfriend is a runner, and runs at least 3 times a week - one of those times being Saturdays. That leaves me with Macy. We have taken to walking to the local coffee shop. However, local is a more relative term when you live in the 'burbs like he does (as opposed to the city like I do - our perpetual war), and the nearest shop is not on the next corner like it is by my house, it's 1.7 miles down the street. I know because I've clocked it with the odometer on his car.
So, while he runs, Macy and I walk to the coffee shop. She likes to play pretend games on our journey for my caffeine. She pretends that I am the queen and she is the princess. She gathers sticks and we use them as swords and have sword fights along the way, ignoring the stares of the suburban passersby (That's my favorite part). We pretend the houses along our way belong to the people in our kingdom and we wave. We pretend the white lines in the crosswalk are crocodiles along a river allowing us to use their heads for stepping stones. The boyfriend meets us at the coffee shop and we all have breakfast together, Macy and I continuing our walk home.
For weeks since the winter thaw we've walked past the cutest library, and I've been wanting to go in. One week I said to Macy, "I'm going to stop here and check it out." "NO," she declared, "I don't want to!" "Well then, you can sit on the bench and wait for me outside, I'll just be a few minutes, I want to see what it's like on the inside, it looks so cute," I retorted. She followed me inside and said as she ran past me, "I'll be in the kids section." I followed her in to make sure she was settled, told her I'd be back in 5 minutes, then started on my exploration. The upstairs is filled with winged back chairs and shelved books.
I stopped in the section titled "New" just to see if there was anything I could find there that I'd recently seen on bookstores shelves, might as well utilize the library since I'm watching every penny pretty closely these days. That's when I saw it..."Going Away Shoes" by Jill McCorkle. I admit, I was first attracted to the title because of the word shoes. I love fashion, and in particular, shoes. So I picked it up and read the inside flap to see what this was all about, and saw that the stories were all about women, and all tied together somehow by shoes. I thought, "Well, why not?" and used Macy's suburban library card to check out the book, as my city card won't work out there.
I loved this book. I couldn't put it down. It was one of those books that stayed with me. I would think about the stories and the characters long after the story was over. I couldn't wait to crack it open and read the next one to see where it would take me. I felt that I could relate to so many of the characters. In particular, I loved the story titled "Another Dimension", and even kept the book past it's due date at the library to have the boyfriend read it as well. He also loved it. He is reading all of the stories in the book so we can discuss them.
Another story in the book I loved was "PS", the letter written to the marriage counselor, as well as "Intervention" and "Me and Big Foot".
I was very interested to read that Jill McCorkle lives in Hillsborough, North Carolina. I understand it is quite an artist's colony there.
I've never really written a book review before, and don't really feel that this is a review, I'd put it more in the rave category, it's not an intelligent enough post to be considered a review.
Plus, I don't have any followers at this point. However, I really found this book to have significant emotional intelligence, that was what was the most striking to me about the book - the significant and striking emotional intelligence of the characters in the book, which leads me to believe that the author must have incredible insight into people.
I really enjoyed this book, and found this "contest" to be unique, I like the grass-roots mentality of it, promoting one another's works...so I thought I'd like to be a part of it.
I would love to send this book to somebody - the winner of my contest is the person who gives the most thoughtful comment, whatever that may be...
Thank you.
Dress Rehearsal
Today I am staring at blue eyes and dimples. She is 2 months old, and her mom is away, receiving her last treatment. Nine treatments in total. 4 of them while this little thing was in her mom's uterus, but she came out just fine, and has been plumping up ever since. I am her first sitter, and was her older brother's first sitter as well. She smiles, mostly in her sleep. Today she laughed while sleeping, and it was the cutest thing. After her second bottle today, and subsequent giant burp, I got a waking smile out of her. I always smile after burping, so I completely understood.
Yesterday was c.r.a.z.y. Crazy I say. It was probably amplified in craziness due to the fact that the night before, the boyfriend's central air went out, and it was hot as Hades. Summer dumped on us the two days before, without much warning, and his ac's coils froze. We consulted the Internet to see if we could fix it ourselves, found out we could, and let them thaw. That meant sleeping with the windows open and a fan blowing on us. The 8 year old slept great, she has a ceiling fan in her princess room...but no such luck in the boyfriend's room. Both of us suffer from seasonal allergies, so sleeping with the window open on a hot night doesn't make for much fun...couple that with the early birds, literally, and I was miserable the majority of the night. Miserable, hot, sneezing and awake. I wanted to take off all of my clothes and sleep in the nude, which I do in my own apartment, but I was terrified of horrifying the 8 year old, should I actually fall asleep and she walk in needing something in our sleep.
It seemed as though I had just fallen asleep when she came in saying, "Wake up Lucy, it's time for breakfast! Dad's making pancakes and hash browns." Nothing like carb loading on a Tuesday. I walked downstairs and it smelled like McDonald's (yes, I unfortunately do know what McDonald's breakfast smells like). But I enjoyed it nonetheless, especially the coffee. We ate, laughed, and dressed quickly so we could get Macy to school on time, and me to the first sitting gig of the day.
It seems as though all seasons around here are traffic seasons, if it's not one thing it's another - snow, rain, construction...so though it's a mere 5 mile trip from the boyfriend's to the first sitting job of the day, it took me an hour. I was stuck in heavy traffic. I received an email on my "smart phone" from the second sitting job of the day "I forgot my phone and need you to call me at work..." so I did, which added to my stress. The conversation went like this:
Frantic Mom: Hi. Three things: One. I didn't have time to take the dog out this morning, so when you get there, you'll need to deal with that. Two. Today is Victoria's dress rehearsal for the play. You'll need to get her in her costume and make-up, there are specific instructions for the costume on the washing machine. She'll be particular about her hair. Good luck. Three. Yesterday we had the order form for the photos with the check written out on the table, but the cleaning lady came and now I can't find it, so you'll need to look for it, and if you can't find it then you'll need to write a new check for photos. Oh, and as I mentioned, I forgot my phone today and am about to head to a client's office so you're on your own and will have to wing it from here.
Me: Are you kidding? Can't you have them fax or email you another form and send them your credit card information for the photos?
Frantic Mom: Don't you have your checkbook with you?
Me: Um, no. I don't carry it, and you're kidding, right?
Frantic Mom: Well, if you can't find it, you can explain to Victoria why she isn't getting her photos. Seriously - they won't even take her picture without that form. No, just tell her that we're getting the video.
I'm thinking, I should never have made this call while driving in traffic. This is why they tell you never to talk on the phone while you're driving in general. My blood pressure was off the charts. I was trying to remember all of this, maneuver traffic, and text the other sitter at Job #1 that I was running about 10 minutes late.
I arrive at Job #1. Nine kids under the age of 4. I share this job with somebody else so we can handle it. Ironically though, I always end up being the only one that can ever smell a poopy diaper. It's the weirdest thing. I have done this job with 4 different people, and I'm the only one that can ever smell a poopy diaper, and the only one that ever changes the diapers. Yesterday we had two poopies. What is the likelihood? It's a 2-hour shift, and we go for months without any poopies, but yesterday of all days, two. And they were doosies, lemme tell you. The kind you can taste, they smell so bad. But I sucked it up (figuratively, not literally), changed them, and went on with the job. It's my philosophy to change a diaper. I think it's Karma. Someday I may end up in diapers again, and you never know which one of these kids may have to be changing my diapers, and I want them to remember that I always, always changed them immediately when they were wet or poopy, so I'd like the same in return.
After all the kiddos were safely returned to their moms at Job #1, I went to grab a quick lunch. I ordered a Farmer's Market salad - sounds nice, right? Lettuce, tomatoes, cukes, garbanzo beans, eggs, croutons, onions and blue cheese. I order mine without the blue cheese and onions. It arrives at the register and it has lettuce, cucumbers and garbanzo beans on it. I inquire about the missing tomatoes, eggs and croutons. "Oh, we're out of those." Oh really. And you couldn't have told me that when I ordered? I stood there, thinking, well, just goes with the day. I subsequently heard no less than 5 other people order the same salad, with no thought of customer service given to tell them at the time the order was placed that they were out of so many ingredients. Shrug.
Anyway. I don't want to just be bitching here. I did think to myself, that all of this would have normally been tolerated much more easily on a day that I had a lot more sleep. And I was dreading my next assignment, for I knew that the kids I was about to pick up from school and attempt to stuff into a costume had had a rough weekend. Their parents were telling them that they were getting a divorce, and I had no idea what I was walking into.
I checked into the homestead first. Dog out of crate, mad race to door. Check. Walk around the park, business #1 and business #2. Check. Off to find the costume on the washing machine - read the instructions, make sure all of the parts are there. Check. Pack after school snacks and stuff into my purse. Check. Now, where to find the picture order form and payment? Scouring the stacks of papers...could it be? I eventually found it, and stuffed it into my purse, next to the after school snacks. I had just enough time to get in the car and get the kids.
I raced to school, was the second in the carpool line. The kids got in the car. We raced home without a fight. Could this actually be? They followed my instructions and didn't take the dog out of the crate. What is going on? Victoria combed all of the tangles out of her hair and allowed me to get the headpiece in just perfectly. Is this the calm before the storm? I'm nervous at this point in the game. We get the costume on without a hitch, get in the car, get the audio book turned on, and race to...you guessed it...sit in traffic. Which we did, for an hour.
We pull up at the designated spot, 20 minutes late. A "guard" sees the costume and points us to the auditorium. I've left my car in a no parking zone with the hazards on. To be safe, I left Pauline, the non costumed child, strapped into the car thinking "I'm much less likely to be towed if there is a kid in the car..." and race in with Victoria, order form in hand. I confirm all systems go, and shove her backstage saying reassuring things like "You're the prettiest one here," and "Your mom will pick you up at 6:30, have fun!" I head back to the car, where the "guard" says, "Ma'am, just so you know, next time, you can't leave a child strapped in the car..." I cut him off and say, "Oh, ok, thanks." I get in, and breath a sigh of relief.
Pauline and I head home, do her homework, and I let her play computer games while I cook dinner. Four separate dinners mind you - Monte Cristo for Mom, Chicken Nuggets and Broccoli for Victoria, Grilled Cheese with American Cheese for Pauline and Grilled Cheese with Cheddar for me. Pauline and I sit down to dinner, have a lovely conversation and keep the rest in the oven for their Mom and Victoria when they get home, and head to the park with the dog.
We watch some boys having soccer practice, take a stroll. Victoria makes it home, changes out of her costume, and eats dinner with Mom, before heading downstairs to play more computer games with Pauline while their Mom finishes up her weekly Monday night conference call. I clean up their dinner plates, and join the girls downstairs, keeping the dog at bay and from destroying anything else in their house. Unfortunately, I was too late and he got a chapstick before I could get to him. They get in their pajamas and brush their teeth, and jump rope for a while before we read Chapter 2 of "Alice in Wonderland."
Their daddy calls to tell them goodnight, and Victoria is angry at him, she simply grabs the phone and says, "No thanks." I make her call him back and at least ask him if he is coming to her dance recital the next day. While on the phone she softens a bit and says, "I'm sorry daddy, I do love you."
By then their Mom is finished with her call and comes downstairs to find the normally rambunctious girls curled up on my lap, listening to me read. She says to me, "Is it just me, or are you the best?" The girls say in unison, "She's the best."
I leave feeling like, perhaps life is more than a dress rehearsal really, though this statement has been made a million times before...we do it every day, and every day really does matter.
It started so rough, so incredibly rough. And many times throughout it, I wanted to vomit from the sheer tiredness of it all, yet at the end of it, I felt incredibly fulfilled.
I climbed into my car and called the boyfriend, who had locked himself out earlier that day. We had a good chuckle. I told him I had started a new blog, and he said, "Well, if you're writing about me, could you at least make me taller?"
God, I love him.
Yesterday was c.r.a.z.y. Crazy I say. It was probably amplified in craziness due to the fact that the night before, the boyfriend's central air went out, and it was hot as Hades. Summer dumped on us the two days before, without much warning, and his ac's coils froze. We consulted the Internet to see if we could fix it ourselves, found out we could, and let them thaw. That meant sleeping with the windows open and a fan blowing on us. The 8 year old slept great, she has a ceiling fan in her princess room...but no such luck in the boyfriend's room. Both of us suffer from seasonal allergies, so sleeping with the window open on a hot night doesn't make for much fun...couple that with the early birds, literally, and I was miserable the majority of the night. Miserable, hot, sneezing and awake. I wanted to take off all of my clothes and sleep in the nude, which I do in my own apartment, but I was terrified of horrifying the 8 year old, should I actually fall asleep and she walk in needing something in our sleep.
It seemed as though I had just fallen asleep when she came in saying, "Wake up Lucy, it's time for breakfast! Dad's making pancakes and hash browns." Nothing like carb loading on a Tuesday. I walked downstairs and it smelled like McDonald's (yes, I unfortunately do know what McDonald's breakfast smells like). But I enjoyed it nonetheless, especially the coffee. We ate, laughed, and dressed quickly so we could get Macy to school on time, and me to the first sitting gig of the day.
It seems as though all seasons around here are traffic seasons, if it's not one thing it's another - snow, rain, construction...so though it's a mere 5 mile trip from the boyfriend's to the first sitting job of the day, it took me an hour. I was stuck in heavy traffic. I received an email on my "smart phone" from the second sitting job of the day "I forgot my phone and need you to call me at work..." so I did, which added to my stress. The conversation went like this:
Frantic Mom: Hi. Three things: One. I didn't have time to take the dog out this morning, so when you get there, you'll need to deal with that. Two. Today is Victoria's dress rehearsal for the play. You'll need to get her in her costume and make-up, there are specific instructions for the costume on the washing machine. She'll be particular about her hair. Good luck. Three. Yesterday we had the order form for the photos with the check written out on the table, but the cleaning lady came and now I can't find it, so you'll need to look for it, and if you can't find it then you'll need to write a new check for photos. Oh, and as I mentioned, I forgot my phone today and am about to head to a client's office so you're on your own and will have to wing it from here.
Me: Are you kidding? Can't you have them fax or email you another form and send them your credit card information for the photos?
Frantic Mom: Don't you have your checkbook with you?
Me: Um, no. I don't carry it, and you're kidding, right?
Frantic Mom: Well, if you can't find it, you can explain to Victoria why she isn't getting her photos. Seriously - they won't even take her picture without that form. No, just tell her that we're getting the video.
I'm thinking, I should never have made this call while driving in traffic. This is why they tell you never to talk on the phone while you're driving in general. My blood pressure was off the charts. I was trying to remember all of this, maneuver traffic, and text the other sitter at Job #1 that I was running about 10 minutes late.
I arrive at Job #1. Nine kids under the age of 4. I share this job with somebody else so we can handle it. Ironically though, I always end up being the only one that can ever smell a poopy diaper. It's the weirdest thing. I have done this job with 4 different people, and I'm the only one that can ever smell a poopy diaper, and the only one that ever changes the diapers. Yesterday we had two poopies. What is the likelihood? It's a 2-hour shift, and we go for months without any poopies, but yesterday of all days, two. And they were doosies, lemme tell you. The kind you can taste, they smell so bad. But I sucked it up (figuratively, not literally), changed them, and went on with the job. It's my philosophy to change a diaper. I think it's Karma. Someday I may end up in diapers again, and you never know which one of these kids may have to be changing my diapers, and I want them to remember that I always, always changed them immediately when they were wet or poopy, so I'd like the same in return.
After all the kiddos were safely returned to their moms at Job #1, I went to grab a quick lunch. I ordered a Farmer's Market salad - sounds nice, right? Lettuce, tomatoes, cukes, garbanzo beans, eggs, croutons, onions and blue cheese. I order mine without the blue cheese and onions. It arrives at the register and it has lettuce, cucumbers and garbanzo beans on it. I inquire about the missing tomatoes, eggs and croutons. "Oh, we're out of those." Oh really. And you couldn't have told me that when I ordered? I stood there, thinking, well, just goes with the day. I subsequently heard no less than 5 other people order the same salad, with no thought of customer service given to tell them at the time the order was placed that they were out of so many ingredients. Shrug.
Anyway. I don't want to just be bitching here. I did think to myself, that all of this would have normally been tolerated much more easily on a day that I had a lot more sleep. And I was dreading my next assignment, for I knew that the kids I was about to pick up from school and attempt to stuff into a costume had had a rough weekend. Their parents were telling them that they were getting a divorce, and I had no idea what I was walking into.
I checked into the homestead first. Dog out of crate, mad race to door. Check. Walk around the park, business #1 and business #2. Check. Off to find the costume on the washing machine - read the instructions, make sure all of the parts are there. Check. Pack after school snacks and stuff into my purse. Check. Now, where to find the picture order form and payment? Scouring the stacks of papers...could it be? I eventually found it, and stuffed it into my purse, next to the after school snacks. I had just enough time to get in the car and get the kids.
I raced to school, was the second in the carpool line. The kids got in the car. We raced home without a fight. Could this actually be? They followed my instructions and didn't take the dog out of the crate. What is going on? Victoria combed all of the tangles out of her hair and allowed me to get the headpiece in just perfectly. Is this the calm before the storm? I'm nervous at this point in the game. We get the costume on without a hitch, get in the car, get the audio book turned on, and race to...you guessed it...sit in traffic. Which we did, for an hour.
We pull up at the designated spot, 20 minutes late. A "guard" sees the costume and points us to the auditorium. I've left my car in a no parking zone with the hazards on. To be safe, I left Pauline, the non costumed child, strapped into the car thinking "I'm much less likely to be towed if there is a kid in the car..." and race in with Victoria, order form in hand. I confirm all systems go, and shove her backstage saying reassuring things like "You're the prettiest one here," and "Your mom will pick you up at 6:30, have fun!" I head back to the car, where the "guard" says, "Ma'am, just so you know, next time, you can't leave a child strapped in the car..." I cut him off and say, "Oh, ok, thanks." I get in, and breath a sigh of relief.
Pauline and I head home, do her homework, and I let her play computer games while I cook dinner. Four separate dinners mind you - Monte Cristo for Mom, Chicken Nuggets and Broccoli for Victoria, Grilled Cheese with American Cheese for Pauline and Grilled Cheese with Cheddar for me. Pauline and I sit down to dinner, have a lovely conversation and keep the rest in the oven for their Mom and Victoria when they get home, and head to the park with the dog.
We watch some boys having soccer practice, take a stroll. Victoria makes it home, changes out of her costume, and eats dinner with Mom, before heading downstairs to play more computer games with Pauline while their Mom finishes up her weekly Monday night conference call. I clean up their dinner plates, and join the girls downstairs, keeping the dog at bay and from destroying anything else in their house. Unfortunately, I was too late and he got a chapstick before I could get to him. They get in their pajamas and brush their teeth, and jump rope for a while before we read Chapter 2 of "Alice in Wonderland."
Their daddy calls to tell them goodnight, and Victoria is angry at him, she simply grabs the phone and says, "No thanks." I make her call him back and at least ask him if he is coming to her dance recital the next day. While on the phone she softens a bit and says, "I'm sorry daddy, I do love you."
By then their Mom is finished with her call and comes downstairs to find the normally rambunctious girls curled up on my lap, listening to me read. She says to me, "Is it just me, or are you the best?" The girls say in unison, "She's the best."
I leave feeling like, perhaps life is more than a dress rehearsal really, though this statement has been made a million times before...we do it every day, and every day really does matter.
It started so rough, so incredibly rough. And many times throughout it, I wanted to vomit from the sheer tiredness of it all, yet at the end of it, I felt incredibly fulfilled.
I climbed into my car and called the boyfriend, who had locked himself out earlier that day. We had a good chuckle. I told him I had started a new blog, and he said, "Well, if you're writing about me, could you at least make me taller?"
God, I love him.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
People vs. The Game
Today started ok. The boyfriend let me sleep in. I rolled over and he was gone. I knew that meant he arose before the little one came in screaming like a wild banshee, which she does on Saturday and Sunday mornings at 7:30 a.m. sharp. Yesterday I got up with her and let him sleep in, so I knew that was my cue that today was my day to sleep, which I did. I slept and slept and slept until 8:45 and I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. Then I stretched and went running.
When I came back he was sitting outside reading the Sunday paper, so I hydrated and sat outside to join him. She came out too, and decided to dig in the dirt "for slugs" she said. She made a muddy mess with cups of water and dirt and God only knows what, but she was having a good time and this allotted me more time to read and drink coffee without having to entertain her, so I let her make as much of a mess a she wanted.
Earlier that morning, when I came down to say good morning to the two of them, she was playing her nintendo DS game. The two of them had been to the local coffee shop to buy coffee and scones, and she was embroiled in the heat of some game. I said "good morning Macy." To which she replied, "Please be quite, I'm playing my game." I said, "Pardon me?" and she said, "I said PLEASE BE QUIET, I'm TRYING to PLAY my GAME."
Now, sleep or no sleep, I'm not a morning person, and I'm definitely not attune to attitude from a child playing some electronic game and not speaking to me. Manners were a must in the household in which I grew up, and I find myself attempting to enforce them on Macy all of the time. I looked at her father with a raised eyebrow. He said "Macy's having a bit of trouble with her game this morning." Ahh, I see...and this is my problem how? So I said in my ever so ginger sassy morning voice, "Um, people are more important than any game...that's rude. I'm going running." He smiled his constant smile and said, "The coffee will be waiting for you when you get back." I kissed him good-bye and headed out the door, thinking about how I would confront the issue upon my return.
I started down the street, full of piss and vinegar, preparing my speech. "Look," I thought, "I know Macy is only 8, but she needs to learn this stuff now so she doesn't turn in to some weird gamer type who can't function properly in normal society when she's a teenager or God forbid an adult. We've got to teach her that people are more important that any game. That no matter what is happening in her game, if anybody speaks to her, especially an adult, she is to set her game aside and look them in the eye and address them politely."
Yes, yes, that's it. It's perfect. Now, concentrate on breathing while you run - in through the nose, out through the mouth. Perfect.
So there I sat after my run, fully hydrated, raspberry scone on the plate in front of me, coffee in the mug to my right, NY times in my hands, in my boyfriend's lawn furniture in his nicely mowed back yard while his 8 year old daughter dug for slugs in the mud to my left, and he was upstairs showering, my speech all prepared for when he came back down.
Now two important things you should know before I continue this story: 1. They lost his wife/her mother to cancer approximately four years ago. I didn't know them then, but as their story unfolds to me, I know that their lives were smashed apart by her death. Who's wouldn't be? I don't want this blog in general to be about that, it's not fair to me for it to be, this is my outlet, but I need for you to know in order for this story to make sense. 2. Every Sunday I love to read the SundayStyles section of the NY Times, and in particular, the Modern Love column.
So, there I sat, all set up for a successful hour at least, of reading and breakfast/caffeine fulfillment when I came across the Modern Love section. Today it was about a woman who was dating a man with an 8 year old daughter. The 8 year old daughter had lost her mother (though I don't know to what). The man whom the woman was dating died of cancer while she was dating him, and she was left with this 8 year old girl, though she didn't want to be her mother. In fact, nobody really wanted to be her mother. As the father was dying, it was really difficult for anybody to want to step up to take this child. Finally an aunt did, and the author of the column agreed to take the girl to the aunt's house after the funeral. The author hadn't wanted to keep the girl, she had had a hard enough time dating a man with a child - giving up the idea of her single life, competing for his attention with the child (I could relate). Eventually the aunt called the girl and said it wasn't working out, and sent the girl to a foster home.
I was reading with my mouth open, tears streaming down my face, as Macy came over to me with two roly poly's in her muddy little hand to show me. "Look Lucy, look what I found! Can I keep them, please?" Yes, Macy, yes you can keep them. "What do you think they eat Lucy? Vegetation? Roots? What should I feed them? Weeds? Leaves? Maybe I'll put different types of vegetation in their cage. I've had roly poly's before for pets." I sat listening to her, even though I didn't know what she was saying. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. I couldn't imagine a life without her.
I folded the paper and put it down. I continued to drink my coffee and eat my scone while sitting in my boyfriend's lawn furniture in his nicely mowed back yard, only this time my eyes and ears were on his 8 year old, absorbing everything she had to say. I couldn't get enough of her.
Oddly, I never did give him my speech.
When I came back he was sitting outside reading the Sunday paper, so I hydrated and sat outside to join him. She came out too, and decided to dig in the dirt "for slugs" she said. She made a muddy mess with cups of water and dirt and God only knows what, but she was having a good time and this allotted me more time to read and drink coffee without having to entertain her, so I let her make as much of a mess a she wanted.
Earlier that morning, when I came down to say good morning to the two of them, she was playing her nintendo DS game. The two of them had been to the local coffee shop to buy coffee and scones, and she was embroiled in the heat of some game. I said "good morning Macy." To which she replied, "Please be quite, I'm playing my game." I said, "Pardon me?" and she said, "I said PLEASE BE QUIET, I'm TRYING to PLAY my GAME."
Now, sleep or no sleep, I'm not a morning person, and I'm definitely not attune to attitude from a child playing some electronic game and not speaking to me. Manners were a must in the household in which I grew up, and I find myself attempting to enforce them on Macy all of the time. I looked at her father with a raised eyebrow. He said "Macy's having a bit of trouble with her game this morning." Ahh, I see...and this is my problem how? So I said in my ever so ginger sassy morning voice, "Um, people are more important than any game...that's rude. I'm going running." He smiled his constant smile and said, "The coffee will be waiting for you when you get back." I kissed him good-bye and headed out the door, thinking about how I would confront the issue upon my return.
I started down the street, full of piss and vinegar, preparing my speech. "Look," I thought, "I know Macy is only 8, but she needs to learn this stuff now so she doesn't turn in to some weird gamer type who can't function properly in normal society when she's a teenager or God forbid an adult. We've got to teach her that people are more important that any game. That no matter what is happening in her game, if anybody speaks to her, especially an adult, she is to set her game aside and look them in the eye and address them politely."
Yes, yes, that's it. It's perfect. Now, concentrate on breathing while you run - in through the nose, out through the mouth. Perfect.
So there I sat after my run, fully hydrated, raspberry scone on the plate in front of me, coffee in the mug to my right, NY times in my hands, in my boyfriend's lawn furniture in his nicely mowed back yard while his 8 year old daughter dug for slugs in the mud to my left, and he was upstairs showering, my speech all prepared for when he came back down.
Now two important things you should know before I continue this story: 1. They lost his wife/her mother to cancer approximately four years ago. I didn't know them then, but as their story unfolds to me, I know that their lives were smashed apart by her death. Who's wouldn't be? I don't want this blog in general to be about that, it's not fair to me for it to be, this is my outlet, but I need for you to know in order for this story to make sense. 2. Every Sunday I love to read the SundayStyles section of the NY Times, and in particular, the Modern Love column.
So, there I sat, all set up for a successful hour at least, of reading and breakfast/caffeine fulfillment when I came across the Modern Love section. Today it was about a woman who was dating a man with an 8 year old daughter. The 8 year old daughter had lost her mother (though I don't know to what). The man whom the woman was dating died of cancer while she was dating him, and she was left with this 8 year old girl, though she didn't want to be her mother. In fact, nobody really wanted to be her mother. As the father was dying, it was really difficult for anybody to want to step up to take this child. Finally an aunt did, and the author of the column agreed to take the girl to the aunt's house after the funeral. The author hadn't wanted to keep the girl, she had had a hard enough time dating a man with a child - giving up the idea of her single life, competing for his attention with the child (I could relate). Eventually the aunt called the girl and said it wasn't working out, and sent the girl to a foster home.
I was reading with my mouth open, tears streaming down my face, as Macy came over to me with two roly poly's in her muddy little hand to show me. "Look Lucy, look what I found! Can I keep them, please?" Yes, Macy, yes you can keep them. "What do you think they eat Lucy? Vegetation? Roots? What should I feed them? Weeds? Leaves? Maybe I'll put different types of vegetation in their cage. I've had roly poly's before for pets." I sat listening to her, even though I didn't know what she was saying. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. I couldn't imagine a life without her.
I folded the paper and put it down. I continued to drink my coffee and eat my scone while sitting in my boyfriend's lawn furniture in his nicely mowed back yard, only this time my eyes and ears were on his 8 year old, absorbing everything she had to say. I couldn't get enough of her.
Oddly, I never did give him my speech.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Saturday
My boyfriend is asleep on the couch. It's 9:46 pm. I've been waiting to play Scrabble, but I don't think it's gonna happen. I'm trying not to be angry. I'm thinking of taking my computer into another room before the snoring begins because I think the snoring will push me over the edge.
We're in our early 40's, and I think it's too early to fall asleep on a Saturday night. Up until 9 months ago when we met, I never would have been in at this time on a Saturday night unless I had decided to spend a quiet evening alone. Now, he's perpetually worn out by the 8-year old. But wait, he spent the day with me, and she spent the day with the sitter, so I'm not sure what the deal is. Why is he so tired? Why is he always so tired? We didn't even have sex last night. And it's looking like the same trajectory is ahead for tonight. Damn. This is boring. This is not what I had in mind when getting into a relationship.
Heck, Scrabble isn't even that exciting. But it is interactive. I thought it would keep him awake. Engaged. It's better than sitting in front of the tv. Listen to me. Is this even working?
He's so awesome to me. This morning I had a total meltdown. You see, I've been unemployed for almost two years. I've not been sitting around doing nothing unemployed, I've been looking for a job, and working everyday unemployed. I babysit, I do small projects for people. It's become ridiculous in my opinion actually. Two years ago I was the personal assistant to a tv personality. Now I'm a babysitter. Actually, the two jobs aren't that different on a day to day basis, sans the diaper changing and the pay checks. But back to the meltdown. This morning I got word that one of the gals I sit with on a regular basis will be leaving because she got into the graduate school program she applied to. Kudos to her, seriously. It's excellent news. But I completely melted as I realized - everyone's life is moving on, and I'm still unemployed. I completely freaked out over my watermelon and eggs breakfast. Sobbed. He sat there and listened to me, stroked my arm, held me and at the end of it all what did he say? He said, "I believe in you."
And now I'm thinking of him, upstairs (he just got up off of the couch, and I told him I was upset that we aren't playing Scrabble, jerk that I am, that I would have appreciated it if he could have just told me originally that he didn't want to play instead of telling me what I wanted to hear, that I think that is becoming a problem between us - him telling me what he thinks I want to hear rather than telling me what he really wants.) He looked tired and said, "Ok."
Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow I will bake him a cake as a congratulations for getting his article pitch accepted. Tomorrow I will battle many wills with his 8-year old. Tomorrow we may go visit his mother. Tomorrow I will wake up and look over at him and wonder how on earth I came to be in this house with him, and how I ever woke up and got through any days without him. Tomorrow I will try not to hate myself so much. Tomorrow night he will still be tired. Maybe tomorrow we will play Scrabble.
For now, I will curl up beside him and love him..
We're in our early 40's, and I think it's too early to fall asleep on a Saturday night. Up until 9 months ago when we met, I never would have been in at this time on a Saturday night unless I had decided to spend a quiet evening alone. Now, he's perpetually worn out by the 8-year old. But wait, he spent the day with me, and she spent the day with the sitter, so I'm not sure what the deal is. Why is he so tired? Why is he always so tired? We didn't even have sex last night. And it's looking like the same trajectory is ahead for tonight. Damn. This is boring. This is not what I had in mind when getting into a relationship.
Heck, Scrabble isn't even that exciting. But it is interactive. I thought it would keep him awake. Engaged. It's better than sitting in front of the tv. Listen to me. Is this even working?
He's so awesome to me. This morning I had a total meltdown. You see, I've been unemployed for almost two years. I've not been sitting around doing nothing unemployed, I've been looking for a job, and working everyday unemployed. I babysit, I do small projects for people. It's become ridiculous in my opinion actually. Two years ago I was the personal assistant to a tv personality. Now I'm a babysitter. Actually, the two jobs aren't that different on a day to day basis, sans the diaper changing and the pay checks. But back to the meltdown. This morning I got word that one of the gals I sit with on a regular basis will be leaving because she got into the graduate school program she applied to. Kudos to her, seriously. It's excellent news. But I completely melted as I realized - everyone's life is moving on, and I'm still unemployed. I completely freaked out over my watermelon and eggs breakfast. Sobbed. He sat there and listened to me, stroked my arm, held me and at the end of it all what did he say? He said, "I believe in you."
And now I'm thinking of him, upstairs (he just got up off of the couch, and I told him I was upset that we aren't playing Scrabble, jerk that I am, that I would have appreciated it if he could have just told me originally that he didn't want to play instead of telling me what I wanted to hear, that I think that is becoming a problem between us - him telling me what he thinks I want to hear rather than telling me what he really wants.) He looked tired and said, "Ok."
Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow I will bake him a cake as a congratulations for getting his article pitch accepted. Tomorrow I will battle many wills with his 8-year old. Tomorrow we may go visit his mother. Tomorrow I will wake up and look over at him and wonder how on earth I came to be in this house with him, and how I ever woke up and got through any days without him. Tomorrow I will try not to hate myself so much. Tomorrow night he will still be tired. Maybe tomorrow we will play Scrabble.
For now, I will curl up beside him and love him..
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