the family is gone and the party is over. boo is three and the buns has been baptized. i’m exhausted and frustrated. when i get tired my patience with the kids decreases and it shouldn’t since they are dog tired too.
so we are having a mellow day. i’d love to get out and go to the park, but i think i’m going to fix lunch, give boo and bath and try to get the both to sleep.
how do these women do it all the time? i just don’t get it.
reminded me to comment on a few things….
- my niece coming up from atlanta
- finding colby
- drinks with fultzie
- boo’s birth story
i feel a crash and burn coming on too….
i love the tour de france today. hubbin has always been a huge fan.
the time trials are today, and it’s like the best day in the tour since anything can happen. the leaders need to kick it into high gear because seriously, some guy listed tenth could come out of the gate and bury them all.
hubbin got up with buns, so i got an extra hour (almost) of sleep, then he took both kids down to the basement where boo can play and buns can sleep and he can watch the Tour on the big screen TV. i hear hubbin explaining the concept of a time trial to boo. tough thing to do since she has no concept of time. i tell him to start small, start with the jersey.
it’s nice being up here with my laptop, tea and crosswords. but i still feel full of tears.
i’m chalking all this up to the fact that i weened buns last week and am getting through the engorgement and subsequent hormonal changes (no more night sweats! huzzah!) but i’m concerned that it’s more than that. i have no problem getting back on an anti-depressant, but i don’t want to go to the doctor to get more. why? because i have to change doctors and that’s a pain.
i used to be really good at just turning the bad stuff off until i could deal with it. now it seems like it’s all i deal with, so there is no stopper. i keep telling myself that it’s temporary, that huubin will come around, the kids will get older and bigger and stronger, it’s not going to be like this tomorrow. i keep telling myself that, but when will i start believing it?
i’m bored to tears. there is plenty to do around here, the entire house could be dusted, but i don’t have any motivation for anything. i feel toxic and prickly. i simply feel like i only take up space - a large amount of space, but more on that in a minute.
i love my children. i would kill and be killed for them. i went through so much to bring them into our lives and for whatever reason i feel sad and guilty when they don’t complete me. granted, they aren’t supposed to. not at all. but being a stay at home mom just isn’t for me. i mean, i’m not a huge success someplace else in my life where being able to stay home is a luxury. hubbin and i decided that this is what we would do, that he would work and i would stay home (not that that’s not work). it’s just so menial and ungratifying. i can’t be happy everyday. i just can’t. it’s no longer in me or a part of who i am.
i feel orphaned by my family and abandoned by most of my friends. i feel than hubbin does only the minimum required and i have completely shut down. i never have a minute to myself without one of the kids needing something so why bother. even now as i type buns is crying and working out some gas and boo is impossible to please since she only slept for less than an hour during nap.
i also hate the body i’m in. i weigh more now than i did at the height of my pregnancy and that is enough to make me want to cut myself.
poor me.
maybe i’m being a ninny, but i think it’s too hot outside. so hot in fact that i don’t think the kids should be outside for very long. i’m sure warm and humid air is good for something - i mean, look at all the old folks down in florida. but to me it’s just gross. and yeah i get it that kids don’t care about stuff like that, but parents should.
so am i a bad/evil mom for not encouraging my almost three year old to play outside? am i just projecting concern over the weather to cover up my own laziness and aversion to hot weather? i mean she’s not ten, it’s not like i can let her outside and have her entertain herself. she needs supervision, so if she’s in the heat, we’re in the heat. and like i said, hot weather like this is gross.
i had a realization today that i’m just passing through. nothing sticks to me, i stick to nothing. there is no lasting impression i make on things around me, and i forget events and conversations almost instantly. i guess you could call this living in the moment, but it seems more like a creepy mental illness to me.
i get that it’s all about the kids, that i have a three month old that needs me, that i nurse and cherish. that it’s temporary. but what’s going to be left of me in two years when he’s a toddler and boo is a kindergartner? who is that chick going to be? do i even care at the moment? not really, but i do think about it.
i guess i just miss being interesting and funny and new to someone.
fabulous vodo-esque webcrush where are you? not that that would help. but it would be something.
something else has to happen to me. beyond kids and fighting with the chicago cowboy(aka the chicago ex). is it wrong that i’m not content with BCB with JCSG being enough of an outlet?
will mydarlingcurse ever be more than an emotion tampon and mental vomitorium?
stay tuned….
a few things about this past weekend, in no particular order…
- the death of Tim Russert - not only has this primary season changed history, not having Tim Russert cover the election is heartbreaking.
- we went to the cabin with my Dad and Annie Oakley…it was not fun.
- packing up shit for two kids and two adults requires the patience of a saint and a magic pill.
- upon arrival at the cabin, dealing with two squirrelly kids, schelpping all our crap i notice that the room we are to stay in is not prepared for our arrival.
- i also notice that Annie Oakley has taken up residence with my Dad, in my parents’ room, on my Mom’s side of the bed.
- i spend the weekend sulking, nursing, forcing smiles for my children and drinking as much as i can without appearing like i have a “problem”.
- coming home was the second best part of the weekend.
- the best part, and yes, i obviously saved the best for last, was seeing a picture of my Dad and boo. she got her first fishing pole for our trip to the cabin and natch Papa had to explain it to her and show her how to use it. my dad is an avid fisherman. hubbin got a great snap of the two of them with the pole and it’s priceless. didn’t make up for all the other shit that went on, but it’s a nice memory for him.
- i have come to the realization that my dad is not who i think he is. and that my darlings is troubling me greatly.
tuesday afternoon i pulled a three year old out of the middle of the street during rush hour. she lives across the road from us and most likely has fetal-alcohol syndrome. her mother was inside the house, doors shut tight. i brought the little toe-headed darling home with a heavy heart. she was more than three houses down from her own house. the family car stood in their driveway - a mini-van with driver’s side door and drivers passenger sliding door open.
“I’m glad you brought her back”, the bad mother said with all the emotion of receiving a stale potato.
“I’m glad she didn’t get hit by a car!” i practically shrieked.
then the bad mother then made some comment about how she’s not going to let the little one “play in the car again” since obviously she can “get out of her straps” whatever that means. i walked home quickly needing a drink.
i have yet to completely shake this incident off. i have a three year old. and i’d be mortifiedembarassedbesidemyselfintears if someone brought her home and told me she had been in the middle of the street halfway down the block. i’d kiss the ground her returner walked on! thank you thank you thank you for bringing my darling back. i didn’t get that from the bad mother AT ALL! which is chilling.
the truly frightening part is, is that this type of thing has happened at least once before. but that time the seven year old “older sister” chased after the three year old in the street and pulled her down. other neighbours who saw this incident said the three year old hit her head after being pulled by her big sister, then the bad dad came out and yelled at the three year old.
so after much deliberation, i called Child Protection and got some advice on what to do, not if but when, something like this happens again.
then yesterday i noticed the bad mother coming home, i’m watching her like a hawk now, and she got out and the seven year old got out and they both went into the house. i thought that the little three year old was at a sitters or with a sitter, but no. after over a full minute bad mom came about out of the house, pulled the three year old from the car and then they both went in.
when did it become ok to leave kids unattended in a car? i don’t even let my daughter play around the car when i’m standing right there. and it’s not like bad mom was schlepping in bags or something, she just left her out there.
my mom used to tell me that she wanted to wrap me up in cotton and keep me in her pocket, that way she knew i’d be safe. i thought this completely ridiculous. i kinda get it now.
i think i’m in for a long summer though with this fucking housewiferey, this stay-at-home-mom business. but now that i’ve incidentally saved the three year old, i feel protective of her. and i pray, utterly, that she is safe.
ck and his wife are having their wood floors refinished. this really isn’t news since they’ve been re-doing their house for a few months now. however, the hotel they checked themselves and their two dogs into is booked for Friday night, so they are coming here.
again, this really isn’t news.
however, for the last two years hubbin and i have been using the spare bedroom as a junk depository, a staging area for boxes to be stored or sent to goodwill or whatever charity is coming to the door that week. also, since my dad is “cleaning” his house, he always sends a box of crap home with me. these usually contain unwanted sentimental crap that was important to me in 1988, but not anymore. i can live without the billy joel concert ticket stub, believe me.
however, there are some things of my Mom’s that i’m not ready to tackle yet. mainly, the bag she packed when she went into the hospital. it was the last thing she did and i can’t for the life of me unzip the bag and take things out. and if i remember correctly, we left the bag at the hospital after she died. for some reason, it has a sticker on it, and i’m thinking that hubbin had to go get it. my memory of this time is a little fuzzy. i remember my uncle arizona sitting in the waiting room across the hall, TV always on and whenever i’d come into the room, he’d hug me. giving his silent support. i remember aunt iowa rushing me to the bathroom down the hall. they had just told me mom had only a few hours left and a tsunami of nausea came over me, i only remember the pattern of the floor tile on the way to the bathroom. thankfully i held it together and didn’t throw up.
but this bag. this bag haunts me. it’s this stupid little denim bag with pleather handles. and my parents took it with them everywhere. it was their carry-on bag for all their trips. africa, italy, fiji, new zealand, nova scotia, this bag has seen them all. and now it holds the last things my mom wore before she died. it’s been zipped and in the spare room for over a year now. a spectre of my last hours with my mom.
and today, i’m going to unpack it. i’m going to open it up and face whatever is inside, not just the bag, but me too. it’s time.
in a curious IM conversation the other day with JCSG, i became aware that people might perceive me as being largely unhappy.
shortly after my mom died, the chicago ex became frustrated with talking to me on the phone (our only means of communication) because i was taking too long to get my words out. at the time he thought i was being arrogant. as if my words had such weight and meaning that i had to speak slowly, to ensure they landed just right. when i explained what was happening to me, he was more forgiving, and even a little sympathetic.
for the last fifteen months, i’ve had a chronic log jam in my head, my heart and my soul. and it’s not so much that i’m unhappy - because that implies displeasure, it’s that i’m most likely very, very sad. incredibly sad. even with these great and joyous things, i’m still a little sad.
and - and i’m not trying to play the woe-is-me card here - i’m extremely tired. i have a newborn. a wonderful, beautiful boy. a little spot of heaven here on earth. and he’ll never have the pleasure of knowing my mom. my daughter no longer remembers her “Nana” and that kills me, although i knew it would happen. it kills me because my mom waited so long to be “Nana” and when she finally was, she was terminal and in constant pain. and it chokes me up just typing it.
i see these beautiful children everyday, and everyday i feel my mom looking down with love and approval, and everyday i wish she was here. i have told more than one person that i feel like i’m going through motherhood alone. and JCSG was quick to point out how untrue that it. and she’s right. but no one fills the gap that my mom left, i mean how could they? so while there are people around who love and care about me, it doesn’t make the chasm any less heartbreaking.
so i am a motherless mother. when some beautiful, unbelievable, random thing happens with boo or buns, i have no one to share it with. my first instinct is to call my mom, and i can’t. and by now, my heart’s killing me. so while i’m not alone, i find my life very lonely without her.
yes i have a wonderful husband. yes i have wonderful friends. yes i have wonderful children. i should be grateful for what i have, count my blessings and shut the fuck up.
it’s just, my mom meant the world to me and she died a horrible, undignified death. i guess i haven’t been able to shake that off yet.
send me wine. that might help.
i actually met up with the sexy ex-english teacher over the weekend. usually when he’s in town, there are attempts made of wanting to get together, but then it flops. i’m so glad it worked out this time.
we met up at Al’s Bar. Al’s has been the scene of many crimes of my heart, but his was by far the worst. twelve years ago, about six weeks before i got married, he and i met up at Al’s. we drank ourselves stupid and ended up making out at his place. doesn’t sound too precocious, but i’d been in love with him for about ten years before our lips even touched. and if he’d asked me, i’d have seriously thought about postponing my wedding. yeah.
but my resolve was strong, since the last time we got together, it was no big deal. anyway, we had a beer and talked, and it was a blast. and again i’m flooded with feelings of isolation and desperation.
since buns, i haven’t been out of the house much, socially. haven’t talked to other adults about things NOT my children, so at times, i felt like i was being awkward and childish talking with someone so good looking and intelligent.
and sadly, while the zsa zsa zsu is gone with the sexy ex-english teacher, i felt like maybe we could be really good friends. i’m just afraid that if i want that and hope for it, i’ll be crushed by him yet again.
he’s in town for another few weeks, and i really want to see him again, to see if what i’m thinking and feeling is true. i mean, is it even possible to be friends with someone like that? is he even interested in hanging out with me? could we go to a twins game? is that even out there?
here i am again, fretting like a silly sixteen year old. why am i constantly sixteen around this guy?