Sunday, August 31, 2008
Heavy Drinking
I realize I've been drinking more lately than I usually allow myself to do. I need to back off a bit. Just using this post to note for myself how much alcohol I've had lately to hopefully remind myself to back off. Then I intend to make note of alcohol consumption here as it happens. . . just to make sure I'm monitoring myself.
One evening this past week (can't remember for sure which evening) - One homemade Jack & Coke, strictly for medicinal purposes to fight insomnia. It didn't work.
Friday Night - Three Jack & Cokes at the strip bar that the bi group attended after dinner. Don't worry. I wasn't driving. The gal who drove only had one drink about three hours before we drove home.
Saturday Night - One bottle of Samuel Adams Boston Lager while watching the pathetic Arch Rivalry game on BJ's fabulous new TV.
Tonight - Another homemade Jack & Coke. This time just because. . .
One evening this past week (can't remember for sure which evening) - One homemade Jack & Coke, strictly for medicinal purposes to fight insomnia. It didn't work.
Friday Night - Three Jack & Cokes at the strip bar that the bi group attended after dinner. Don't worry. I wasn't driving. The gal who drove only had one drink about three hours before we drove home.
Saturday Night - One bottle of Samuel Adams Boston Lager while watching the pathetic Arch Rivalry game on BJ's fabulous new TV.
Tonight - Another homemade Jack & Coke. This time just because. . .
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Me? Humanitarian?
Your result for The Perception Personality Image Test...
HFPS - The Humanitarian
You perceive the world with particular attention to humanity. You focus on what's in front of you (the foreground) and how that fits into the larger picture. You are also particularly drawn towards the shapes around you. Because of the value you place on humanity, you tend to seek out other people and get energized by being around others. You like to deal directly with whatever comes your way without dealing with speculating possibilities or outcomes you can't control. You are in tune with all that is around you and understand your life as part of a larger whole. You prefer a structured environment within which to live and you like things to be predictable.
The Perception Personality Types:
Friday, August 29, 2008
Stepping Up on the Political Soapbox for a Minute
Barack Obama picks Joe Biden. John McCain picks Sarah Palin.
Interesting choices, particularly given the messages that each of the presidential candidates have tried to put forth lately.
Let’s see. Obama is all about change. The country needs change. He picks a VP candidate who is a longtime politician on the national level with little record to indicate that he will fight the status quo. Hmm. . .
Well then, let’s look at McCain. McCain is all about experienced leadership. The country needs experienced leadership in the White House. He picks a VP candidate who is younger than Obama and with less national political experience than Obama. Hmm. . .
WTF were these men thinking?!? May I suggest that perhaps both of these presidential candidates could have looked to VP picks that would have helped them stay more on message rather than pandering to the “be everything to everyone” mentality and trying to counteract the criticisms from the other side?
Oh, I know, I’m just a simpleton when it comes to these things. What do I know? It’s silly really for me to think that I could select better running mates than these two have. However, for good or bad, here’s my take on it. If Obama wanted someone with experience without the “insider” feel of Biden perhaps he should have chosen Hillary Clinton. She’s been in the political arena a long time without being a long time politician and has an inside track on what it’s like in the White House. With Clinton as VP, the change message would ring truer than with Biden. For McCain, if he’s looking for someone younger than himself (a large percent of the population) and female, then why not look to Condaleeza Rice? She’s young and female, but unlike Palin, she has national political experience. If McCain’s message is “Let’s have experienced leadership” then Rice is a much better choice than Palin.
So what are these people thinking? Who are their advisors who are leading them down these paths? I’m sorry America, but once again we’re left with the choice of which one is the less bad set of candidates rather than which one is the best set of candidates.
To be sure, I’ll vote in November. Yes I will, and I will vote for the less objectionable set of candidates on the ballot from the two major parties. I won’t be throwing my wholehearted support behind either set though. One of these days, I’m going to run for president myself. I’d do a darned sight better job than most of the doofuses (doofi?) we elect now, and I'll make sure to pick a running mate that isn't the antithesis of the message I've been conveying up to that point.
Interesting choices, particularly given the messages that each of the presidential candidates have tried to put forth lately.
Let’s see. Obama is all about change. The country needs change. He picks a VP candidate who is a longtime politician on the national level with little record to indicate that he will fight the status quo. Hmm. . .
Well then, let’s look at McCain. McCain is all about experienced leadership. The country needs experienced leadership in the White House. He picks a VP candidate who is younger than Obama and with less national political experience than Obama. Hmm. . .
WTF were these men thinking?!? May I suggest that perhaps both of these presidential candidates could have looked to VP picks that would have helped them stay more on message rather than pandering to the “be everything to everyone” mentality and trying to counteract the criticisms from the other side?
Oh, I know, I’m just a simpleton when it comes to these things. What do I know? It’s silly really for me to think that I could select better running mates than these two have. However, for good or bad, here’s my take on it. If Obama wanted someone with experience without the “insider” feel of Biden perhaps he should have chosen Hillary Clinton. She’s been in the political arena a long time without being a long time politician and has an inside track on what it’s like in the White House. With Clinton as VP, the change message would ring truer than with Biden. For McCain, if he’s looking for someone younger than himself (a large percent of the population) and female, then why not look to Condaleeza Rice? She’s young and female, but unlike Palin, she has national political experience. If McCain’s message is “Let’s have experienced leadership” then Rice is a much better choice than Palin.
So what are these people thinking? Who are their advisors who are leading them down these paths? I’m sorry America, but once again we’re left with the choice of which one is the less bad set of candidates rather than which one is the best set of candidates.
To be sure, I’ll vote in November. Yes I will, and I will vote for the less objectionable set of candidates on the ballot from the two major parties. I won’t be throwing my wholehearted support behind either set though. One of these days, I’m going to run for president myself. I’d do a darned sight better job than most of the doofuses (doofi?) we elect now, and I'll make sure to pick a running mate that isn't the antithesis of the message I've been conveying up to that point.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
When Girls Attack
Yes, school started here in LNJ this week. Various districts started at various times over the last couple of weeks. N's school was one of the last to start. N has mixed feelings about school, but I think overall he's more happy than sad to be back in school.
Reasons N is happy that school has started:
- He gets to spend less time with W.
- He loves the social aspect of school.
- He has a true desire to learn, particularly when it comes to science and social studies.
- He's a fourth grader now so he's in the "big kids" wing of the school.
Reasons N is sad that school has started:
- Homework.
- He has less free time.
- He not only ended up in the same classroom as the girl who's "in love" with him who he cannot stand, but she sits right next to him and looks at him all day.
N has had trouble with this one girl ever since he started school here last year. She has been somewhat stalkerish with him in the way only elementary school girls can. She sends him notes telling him she loves him. She stares at him constantly. She follows him around on the playground proclaiming her love for him. He said he liked her for about two days when he first met her, but then he found out that her personality wasn't good, and he has been annoyed by her ever since.
Things kind of came to a head last year when the girl's parents talked to the principal about their daughter's complaints that N was being mean to her. The parents, having heard only her side of things, were under the impression that N was saying "mean things" (I have never learned specifically what he was alleged to have said) to her. Fortunately, their teacher was well aware of the situation, having confiscated a number of notes that Miss Hotpants had tried to pass to N during class and having witnessed the behavior of both children in the classroom and at recesses. According to the teacher, N tried to stay away from Miss Hotpants, and had, on occasion, told her to "Go away!" and "Leave me alone!" This apparently became N being mean to her when she told her parents about N. When all was said and done, it was determined that N was more victim than perpetrator in the situation, and when the teacher informed us of what happened it was with apologies that N had been accused and assurances that she was taking steps to keep N and Miss Hotpants away from one another.
So now, this year, not only is Miss Hotpants once again in N's classroom this time she is in the seat right next to him. I told him that if he would like me to talk to his teacher about the situation so that she might move them away from one another he told me he didn't want me to do that. I told him I will respect his wishes, and that he is welcome to come to me at any time for my assistance with the issue. Having been a lovestruck young girl myself at one time I have some sympathies for Miss Hotpants. On the other hand, at that age I usually stayed lovestruck for only a matter of weeks before someone else became the object of my affections so I'm a little surprised at the persistence this girl has. I understand though. I think N is totally cool too. I'm just surprised there aren't more girls fawning over him. Maybe Miss Hotpants has scared them away.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Weekend Update
Dad – Not doing well. Started chemo last week. He’ll be doing three week cycles where he does the intravenous at the start of the cycle then chemo pills for two weeks then one week off. They don’t know for sure how long he’ll be on this regimen, probably six months. If he lasts that long. As weak as he was last weekend when we visited I can only hope that he makes it through this. I do not want him to die. We’ve only just begun to be friends again after years and years of estrangement. It brings tears to my eyes each time I think of him and what he is going through.
Mom – What a trooper. Not only does she care for Dad, helping him with everything from showering to eating to making it to his many doctor appointments, she also does much for her mother (my granny) and for FU’s family. She is busy daily keeping everything running smoothly in her and Dad’s household, managing Granny’s affairs from afar, and babysitting my nieces two days a week. My biggest worry for Mom is what she will do when Granny and Dad are gone and she is no longer running herself ragged. When she finally comes to a point where she has little to do I worry how she will cope. I fear she will fall apart at that point, from sheer exhaustion and from finally having to deal with the emotions that I think she shoves into the dark recesses right now.
FU – Still a jerk as far as I can tell. I was allowed to go over to his house last Saturday when Mom was babysitting (making up for having missed on of her regular babysitting days last week). FU, of course, wasn’t there, nor was my sister-in-law (let’s call her FU2). I’m not entirely sure whether Mom got FU’s permission to let N and me visit my nieces or not. I’m guessing she did, and I’m guessing that FU allowed it only because he wouldn’t have to see me and because W is out of the picture. It was interesting to see the inside of his house (well, his as in he lives in it, but my parents actually own it). Clearly FU and FU2 have expensive tastes in furnishings, and what they don’t spend on things like getting their own house or paying to have the lawn mowed (my parents pay for that now that my dad can’t mow FU’s yard for him anymore) they spend on furniture and home décor.
My Nieces – Adorably cute, but scarily shy. Let’s see. I need names for the girls. They’re worth more than just a one or two letter moniker. Let’s go with Bella for the older one and Ella for the younger one. The last time I had seen the girls was a bit over three years ago. At that time Ella was just a few months old and Bella was almost four. Neither of them remembers me at all, of course. I was a total stranger to them last Saturday. Bella hid in her bedroom the entire time I was at their house. Ella stayed in the living room but stood by a chair across the room from me with her back to me. Neither of them warmed up at all in the two hours I spent at their house. I didn’t try to push myself on them at all as I remember how intimidated I was as a shy child when someone would try too hard to get me to come out of my shell. They are both heartbreakingly shy. I thought I was a shy kid, but these girls far outrank me on the shyness scale. I blame FU. He has spent their entire lives protecting them from the evils of the outside world. They spend very little time away from their house and very little time with anyone other than immediate family. I don’t think he is doing them any favors by home schooling them and keeping them out of normal social situations. I am not against home schooling per se but given that he is using it as a way to isolate the girls I do not like it. I feel that they need to be out in the world more. As hard as it was for me to deal with my shyness as a child (and yet today) I believe I would have been severely debilitated by it had my parents allowed me to hide at home away from others the way Bella and Ella are allowed to do. Maybe I’m wrong. I hope I’m wrong. I hope they grow up to be self-assured and poised and able to cope with all the world throws at them.
N – Mom noticed that N seems to be doing better now that it’s been a while since the break up between W and me. He is. His behavior, at least when he is around me, is ever so much better than it used to be. His mood is better over all. He is a much happier boy. He had a great time last weekend visiting old friends. He was heartbroken that Bella and Ella didn’t want to play with him, or even talk to him, when we visited. I had warned him before we went over that the girls were shy and that he should let them approach him as they were comfortable so as not to overwhelm them. He did a great job. He sat on the couch with me and was more patient than any nine-year-old should have to be. He sat there for almost two hours before becoming so bored and frustrated that he asked if we could leave.
Me – I rested and relaxed the best I could. I recuperated from the panic attack and feel pretty much like my old self again. I worry about Dad, and about Mom, and about Bella and Ella. I would like to throttle FU and shake FU2 and ask them WTF is wrong with them. I love N so very much and am so very proud of him. As frustrating as he can be at times, overall he is a great kid. I feel ready to take a few deep breaths and move forward to deal with all that needs to be dealt with for the divorce and becoming independent.
Mom – What a trooper. Not only does she care for Dad, helping him with everything from showering to eating to making it to his many doctor appointments, she also does much for her mother (my granny) and for FU’s family. She is busy daily keeping everything running smoothly in her and Dad’s household, managing Granny’s affairs from afar, and babysitting my nieces two days a week. My biggest worry for Mom is what she will do when Granny and Dad are gone and she is no longer running herself ragged. When she finally comes to a point where she has little to do I worry how she will cope. I fear she will fall apart at that point, from sheer exhaustion and from finally having to deal with the emotions that I think she shoves into the dark recesses right now.
FU – Still a jerk as far as I can tell. I was allowed to go over to his house last Saturday when Mom was babysitting (making up for having missed on of her regular babysitting days last week). FU, of course, wasn’t there, nor was my sister-in-law (let’s call her FU2). I’m not entirely sure whether Mom got FU’s permission to let N and me visit my nieces or not. I’m guessing she did, and I’m guessing that FU allowed it only because he wouldn’t have to see me and because W is out of the picture. It was interesting to see the inside of his house (well, his as in he lives in it, but my parents actually own it). Clearly FU and FU2 have expensive tastes in furnishings, and what they don’t spend on things like getting their own house or paying to have the lawn mowed (my parents pay for that now that my dad can’t mow FU’s yard for him anymore) they spend on furniture and home décor.
My Nieces – Adorably cute, but scarily shy. Let’s see. I need names for the girls. They’re worth more than just a one or two letter moniker. Let’s go with Bella for the older one and Ella for the younger one. The last time I had seen the girls was a bit over three years ago. At that time Ella was just a few months old and Bella was almost four. Neither of them remembers me at all, of course. I was a total stranger to them last Saturday. Bella hid in her bedroom the entire time I was at their house. Ella stayed in the living room but stood by a chair across the room from me with her back to me. Neither of them warmed up at all in the two hours I spent at their house. I didn’t try to push myself on them at all as I remember how intimidated I was as a shy child when someone would try too hard to get me to come out of my shell. They are both heartbreakingly shy. I thought I was a shy kid, but these girls far outrank me on the shyness scale. I blame FU. He has spent their entire lives protecting them from the evils of the outside world. They spend very little time away from their house and very little time with anyone other than immediate family. I don’t think he is doing them any favors by home schooling them and keeping them out of normal social situations. I am not against home schooling per se but given that he is using it as a way to isolate the girls I do not like it. I feel that they need to be out in the world more. As hard as it was for me to deal with my shyness as a child (and yet today) I believe I would have been severely debilitated by it had my parents allowed me to hide at home away from others the way Bella and Ella are allowed to do. Maybe I’m wrong. I hope I’m wrong. I hope they grow up to be self-assured and poised and able to cope with all the world throws at them.
N – Mom noticed that N seems to be doing better now that it’s been a while since the break up between W and me. He is. His behavior, at least when he is around me, is ever so much better than it used to be. His mood is better over all. He is a much happier boy. He had a great time last weekend visiting old friends. He was heartbroken that Bella and Ella didn’t want to play with him, or even talk to him, when we visited. I had warned him before we went over that the girls were shy and that he should let them approach him as they were comfortable so as not to overwhelm them. He did a great job. He sat on the couch with me and was more patient than any nine-year-old should have to be. He sat there for almost two hours before becoming so bored and frustrated that he asked if we could leave.
Me – I rested and relaxed the best I could. I recuperated from the panic attack and feel pretty much like my old self again. I worry about Dad, and about Mom, and about Bella and Ella. I would like to throttle FU and shake FU2 and ask them WTF is wrong with them. I love N so very much and am so very proud of him. As frustrating as he can be at times, overall he is a great kid. I feel ready to take a few deep breaths and move forward to deal with all that needs to be dealt with for the divorce and becoming independent.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Let It Go
Remember this post?
Well, I found her. For good or for bad, I found her without even looking. Someone that graduated in our high school class puts out a sporadic class newsletter, and lo and behold, she turned up in it, with email address to boot. She's not so very far away, just two states away from me (although that's a lot farther in the Midwest than if we were up in New England somewhere). She's quite successful (oh didn't I know she would be?) and happily married with two adorable daughters.
Of course, life is grand for her. Oh yes. I knew it would be. She was, after all, voted Most Likely to Succeed. She was, after all, one of the popular ones. She was the golden girl, best at everything. Only once did I ever best her at anything. Only once, but I've clung to it throughout my life as though it were important.
Jealous some? Oh yes. Totally. We were too much alike with backgrounds that were too much alike. We were two of a kind yet (or maybe therefore) total rivals. When I moved in I was the only competition she'd ever had in the smarts department. She'd always been the smartest, the best at everything academic. I walked onto the scene and suddenly there was competition. We competed for so very much -- grade point averages, test scores, music competitions, on and on and on. The only thing we didn't compete for was boys. Now that I think about it I don't really remember her dating much, if at all, when we were in high school. Hmm, perhaps if I'd focused more on academics and less on boys I'd have beaten her more than once.
Strange that in 30 years I haven't laid aside the feelings that she can evoke in me. She is so not worth it, and I'm sure she spends not one iota of time thinking about me.
Now that I have her email address I must resist the urge to email her with a nice chatty "how ya' doing?" email. Even moreso, now that I have her married name I must resist the urge to Google her and find out more about her current life.
MUST.RESIST.URGE
Note to Trueself:
Do not become a crazy stalker lady.
Do not become a crazy stalker lady.
Do not become a crazy stalker lady.
Well, I found her. For good or for bad, I found her without even looking. Someone that graduated in our high school class puts out a sporadic class newsletter, and lo and behold, she turned up in it, with email address to boot. She's not so very far away, just two states away from me (although that's a lot farther in the Midwest than if we were up in New England somewhere). She's quite successful (oh didn't I know she would be?) and happily married with two adorable daughters.
Of course, life is grand for her. Oh yes. I knew it would be. She was, after all, voted Most Likely to Succeed. She was, after all, one of the popular ones. She was the golden girl, best at everything. Only once did I ever best her at anything. Only once, but I've clung to it throughout my life as though it were important.
Jealous some? Oh yes. Totally. We were too much alike with backgrounds that were too much alike. We were two of a kind yet (or maybe therefore) total rivals. When I moved in I was the only competition she'd ever had in the smarts department. She'd always been the smartest, the best at everything academic. I walked onto the scene and suddenly there was competition. We competed for so very much -- grade point averages, test scores, music competitions, on and on and on. The only thing we didn't compete for was boys. Now that I think about it I don't really remember her dating much, if at all, when we were in high school. Hmm, perhaps if I'd focused more on academics and less on boys I'd have beaten her more than once.
Strange that in 30 years I haven't laid aside the feelings that she can evoke in me. She is so not worth it, and I'm sure she spends not one iota of time thinking about me.
Now that I have her email address I must resist the urge to email her with a nice chatty "how ya' doing?" email. Even moreso, now that I have her married name I must resist the urge to Google her and find out more about her current life.
MUST.RESIST.URGE
Note to Trueself:
Do not become a crazy stalker lady.
Do not become a crazy stalker lady.
Do not become a crazy stalker lady.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Guilty Pleasures
Just something I've noticed lately. I wonder if to some my blog is a guilty pleasure. Why do I say that? Well, there are some who are regular visitors (yeah, I'm totally stalking you so get over it) who have blogrolls on their blogs yet my blog isn't listed on their blogrolls. That gets me to wondering then how do people determine who to put on their blogrolls and who not to put there?
I know that I have some blogs that I read that do not appear on my blogroll. The reason most do not appear on my blogroll is because they are very local and very vocal about where they are located. If I had a whole mess of blogs included on my blogroll all from the same locale then it would pretty much give away my location, and I've already pretty much placed myself through things I've said on my blog in a fairly small geographic region. No need to out myself to the world by giving up the actual town/city/village/municipality/whathaveyou by listing all my neighbors in my blogroll. The reason a couple of others don't appear is because they are people I know IRL that I wouldn't want to make the connection between IRL me and Trueself me. Occasionally when I'm "trying out" a new blog I read it for a while before adding it to my blogroll.
I wonder why some of y'all don't have me on your blogroll? Am I the woman who lives down the street from you, and you don't want me to know that you know? Are you worried that letting others know you read a blog like mine would place you in a bad light somehow? Are you just too damned lazy to update your blogroll? What is it? Inquiring minds want to know. . .
I know that I have some blogs that I read that do not appear on my blogroll. The reason most do not appear on my blogroll is because they are very local and very vocal about where they are located. If I had a whole mess of blogs included on my blogroll all from the same locale then it would pretty much give away my location, and I've already pretty much placed myself through things I've said on my blog in a fairly small geographic region. No need to out myself to the world by giving up the actual town/city/village/municipality/whathaveyou by listing all my neighbors in my blogroll. The reason a couple of others don't appear is because they are people I know IRL that I wouldn't want to make the connection between IRL me and Trueself me. Occasionally when I'm "trying out" a new blog I read it for a while before adding it to my blogroll.
I wonder why some of y'all don't have me on your blogroll? Am I the woman who lives down the street from you, and you don't want me to know that you know? Are you worried that letting others know you read a blog like mine would place you in a bad light somehow? Are you just too damned lazy to update your blogroll? What is it? Inquiring minds want to know. . .
Getting My Bearings
Spent the weekend at my parents' getting my bearings. It helped. It helped a lot. I can't even really explain what it was that helped; I just know that I arrived feeling shaky and paranoid and left feeling refreshed and confident and normal. (Breathing big sigh of relief)
I had a bit of a bad patch as I drove there on Friday. I tried calling a couple of people to talk me through it but only got voicemail. Maybe that was good because it built my confidence that I got through it anyway.
N had a good time over the weekend because I took him to our old neighborhood in LOH, and he got to play with some of his old buddies.
I started this post thinking it would be long and detailed, but I can't seem to write about it right now. Maybe later. . .
I had a bit of a bad patch as I drove there on Friday. I tried calling a couple of people to talk me through it but only got voicemail. Maybe that was good because it built my confidence that I got through it anyway.
N had a good time over the weekend because I took him to our old neighborhood in LOH, and he got to play with some of his old buddies.
I started this post thinking it would be long and detailed, but I can't seem to write about it right now. Maybe later. . .
Thursday, August 21, 2008
High Anxiety
I had a panic attack today.
The last time I suffered a panic attack was about two years ago in an indoor miniature golf course lit by black lights. I was with W and N at the time. I felt it coming and told W about it. He distracted N so that N never knew, and I managed to hold it together well enough to finish the game and get out of there.
Today was different. I didn't hold it together -- at all.
The day started fine. I had taken the day off from work as W is gone today and tomorrow. N and I slept in. He came and woke me around 9:00, but we laid around watching Ellen, a rerun from Presidents' Day, until almost 10:00 when I finally got up, showered, got dressed, and went downstairs. I did some chores that needed doing. By noon I was ready to go out and get some errands accomplished. I wasn't feeling well; I had a killer headache plus my leg was swollen and sore making me wonder if it was infected again. However, I thought that getting some lunch would help me. I took N with me, and we set out. So far so good. . .
We went to a local restaurant for lunch, a little mom and pop place with old style menus and old style home cooking. We ordered drinks -- coffee for me and orange drink for N. When the waitress brought the drinks we ordered lunch. My head was pounding. I drank the coffee in hopes it would help. My head hurt so bad it was making me nauseous. I felt like throwing up. My salad arrived. I felt myself breaking into a cold sweat. I felt a lot like I felt prior to passing out a few weeks back. I felt myself getting close to throwing up so I excused myself to the ladies room. I puked in the toilet, not a lot because my stomach was basically empty except for the coffee I had just drunk. I returned to our booth and sat down. I tried to calm myself. I tried to be rational. I couldn't. I was in a full blown panic attack. I could see N was concerned about me so I tried to be strong for him, but I was losing it. When the waitress brought our food I asked her to box it up to go as I wasn't feeling well. She was wonderful, brought the boxes, boxed up the food for us and even had the cashier come over and take the check up for me. The waitress said to me that she used to have panic attacks (so I guess she recognized it in me because I hadn't said anything other than not feeling well) and understood how debilitating they can be. She asked if we lived close and if I thought I'd be okay to get home. I told her we did and I was.
As we left the restaurant I burst into tears, sobbing with ragged breaths. I called W to see if he had left town yet. I wanted him to care for N if he could. He'd already left town so I had no choice but to take N home with me. I drove home, repeating over and over "It's all going to be okay" for N, but really for me. When we got home N took the food inside, put mine in the fridge and ate some of his. I took some Advil for the headache and laid down to take a nap. I called BJ in spite of knowing I couldn't reach him, but at least I could leave him a voicemail. I wished for all the world that he could come and take care of me, but I knew he couldn't. I was convinced I'd never make it through the afternoon.
I took a long nap, and when I woke up I felt fine. No headache, no anxiety, no nausea. It was like it had never happened. Except that it had, and now I was scared it would happen again. I was afraid to leave the house so I took N out for dinner. I had to. I had to prove to myself that I could go out in the world without having another panic attack. The great thing is, I did it! I went out and everything was fine, not even a hint of a panic attack.
So now I'm taking N to my parents' house tomorrow. I feel the need to be somewhere safe, and we were planning on heading down to a baseball game there on Sunday anyway. I just want my mommy and daddy to take care of me for a couple of days. I want N to be somewhere safe, where people will be there to take care of him even if I go round the bend.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Different, Weird, Strange, Whatever. . .
I struggle, as I’m sure you’ve noticed if you’re a DDT reader of some length, with my self-image. My self-image has plagued me from childhood. I have always seen myself as “different” and not in a good way, not in the way that something (or someone) unique might be prized or at least valued, but in a way that is flawed, something not quite right. As much as I wanted to believe as a child that I was “okay” or “normal” I knew better. I got the messages and took them to heart.
A few things people said to me (things said not just once, not by just one person, but things I heard repeatedly from varied sources) during childhood that stuck and became permanent fixtures in my self-image:
What was said: “What an unusual name! How do you pronounce that again?”
What I heard: You aren’t like the rest of us. You have a name nobody can spell or pronounce correctly. You’re different.
What was said: “Oh, you’re left-handed! That must make your life difficult.”
What I heard: It isn’t as good to be left-handed as right-handed. Something is wrong with you.
What was said: “How come you can’t [insert choice here: skate, run fast, swim, turn cartwheels, hit the ball]?”
What I heard: You’re a klutz and not as good as the rest of us who can do these things.
What was said: “You have such a pretty face. You’d be beautiful if you lost weight.”
What I heard: You are fat, and because of that you are ugly.
The image that I carry around with myself, but am trying to shed for myself, is the following:
Fat (therefore unlovable), clumsy (therefore unlovable), different (therefore unlovable), and with a weirdass name thrown in for good measure so that either I, the person mispronouncing it, or both of us can be embarrassed by it.
I fight against this self-image every single day of my life. I try to get over it. Some days I do better than others. Today I found myself wallowing in it, and rather than let it get to me I decided to write about it. Writing about it, and reading it back, gives me the ability to look at it in perspective and see the absurdity of it. It helps me identify the negative self-talk so that I can work to replace it with positive self-talk.
Here’s the image that I am striving to believe about myself (some days I almost do too!):
The physical body is just packaging, and I am lovable no matter my size or shape because of who I am on the inside. What I don’t have in physical coordination is more than made for by the things I do have going for me: an intellectual brain, a giving heart, a passion for cooking and baking. I don’t have to be good at sports because I have many other talents. Being left-handed is okay, and those who feel it necessary to comment on are the ones with the problem. I do just fine being left-handed, using scissors just like everyone else’s without any problem at all. My name is not who I am. A weird difficult name does not mean that I am weird and difficult.
Okay, that last paragraph was hard. You know why? Because deep down inside somewhere I just don’t believe it. I just don’t. Deep down I believe that I will never be thin enough, or athletic enough, or right-handed enough (I try to do as much right-handed as I possibly can) to be anything but the strange person described by the strange name attached to me.
This is the fight over self-image that plays in my mind almost constantly. Sometimes I am more aware of it than others, but it’s always there in the back of my mind at some level. All it takes to bring it to the forefront of my thoughts is just one little comment.
If you take any message away from this please let it be this:
Be careful what you say to others. They just may believe you.
A few things people said to me (things said not just once, not by just one person, but things I heard repeatedly from varied sources) during childhood that stuck and became permanent fixtures in my self-image:
What was said: “What an unusual name! How do you pronounce that again?”
What I heard: You aren’t like the rest of us. You have a name nobody can spell or pronounce correctly. You’re different.
What was said: “Oh, you’re left-handed! That must make your life difficult.”
What I heard: It isn’t as good to be left-handed as right-handed. Something is wrong with you.
What was said: “How come you can’t [insert choice here: skate, run fast, swim, turn cartwheels, hit the ball]?”
What I heard: You’re a klutz and not as good as the rest of us who can do these things.
What was said: “You have such a pretty face. You’d be beautiful if you lost weight.”
What I heard: You are fat, and because of that you are ugly.
The image that I carry around with myself, but am trying to shed for myself, is the following:
Fat (therefore unlovable), clumsy (therefore unlovable), different (therefore unlovable), and with a weirdass name thrown in for good measure so that either I, the person mispronouncing it, or both of us can be embarrassed by it.
I fight against this self-image every single day of my life. I try to get over it. Some days I do better than others. Today I found myself wallowing in it, and rather than let it get to me I decided to write about it. Writing about it, and reading it back, gives me the ability to look at it in perspective and see the absurdity of it. It helps me identify the negative self-talk so that I can work to replace it with positive self-talk.
Here’s the image that I am striving to believe about myself (some days I almost do too!):
The physical body is just packaging, and I am lovable no matter my size or shape because of who I am on the inside. What I don’t have in physical coordination is more than made for by the things I do have going for me: an intellectual brain, a giving heart, a passion for cooking and baking. I don’t have to be good at sports because I have many other talents. Being left-handed is okay, and those who feel it necessary to comment on are the ones with the problem. I do just fine being left-handed, using scissors just like everyone else’s without any problem at all. My name is not who I am. A weird difficult name does not mean that I am weird and difficult.
Okay, that last paragraph was hard. You know why? Because deep down inside somewhere I just don’t believe it. I just don’t. Deep down I believe that I will never be thin enough, or athletic enough, or right-handed enough (I try to do as much right-handed as I possibly can) to be anything but the strange person described by the strange name attached to me.
This is the fight over self-image that plays in my mind almost constantly. Sometimes I am more aware of it than others, but it’s always there in the back of my mind at some level. All it takes to bring it to the forefront of my thoughts is just one little comment.
If you take any message away from this please let it be this:
Be careful what you say to others. They just may believe you.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Haiku. Do You?
If you know anything about haiku then you probably know it is a form of poetry, Japanese in origin I believe, that is generally about something in nature and follows the pattern of three lines, five syllables in the first line, seven syllables in the second, and five again in the third. (I think that all this back-to-school shopping has caused me to channel my inner teacher here. Sorry.)
Most of the time I'm good at following the rules, particularly the number of syllables thing (sometimes being an accountant is handy), but the one haiku rule I violate more than I follow is one about it being something about nature. Oh well, less anal retentive people tell me that rules are made to be broken. I, on the other hand, fret that when I present what I see as a flawed poem, such as the one below, everyone reading it will be thinking how awful it is because I didn't follow that one rule rather than appreciating the message within.
Such is the life of the OCD perfectionist. . .
Life as Dance
by Trueself
Life is like a dance
If one is well partnered then
It is no trouble
If one is alone
The dance can still be quite good
Solo performance
If one has wrong mate
It becomes awkward, clumsy
Stepping the wrong way
I prefer dancing
With the right partner most times
Solo act others
Join me in the dance
Go with the flow, oh but please
Don’t step on my toes
Most of the time I'm good at following the rules, particularly the number of syllables thing (sometimes being an accountant is handy), but the one haiku rule I violate more than I follow is one about it being something about nature. Oh well, less anal retentive people tell me that rules are made to be broken. I, on the other hand, fret that when I present what I see as a flawed poem, such as the one below, everyone reading it will be thinking how awful it is because I didn't follow that one rule rather than appreciating the message within.
Such is the life of the OCD perfectionist. . .
Life as Dance
by Trueself
Life is like a dance
If one is well partnered then
It is no trouble
If one is alone
The dance can still be quite good
Solo performance
If one has wrong mate
It becomes awkward, clumsy
Stepping the wrong way
I prefer dancing
With the right partner most times
Solo act others
Join me in the dance
Go with the flow, oh but please
Don’t step on my toes
Saturday, August 16, 2008
BJ and W Meet for the First Time
All parties walked away unscathed. Whew!!!!
I suppose it was inevitable. It had to happen sometime. We all ended up at the same street festival in the same town this afternoon. I introduced them to one another. They shook hands. W even said it was nice to meet BJ. (Liar!) They were both quite civil.
When I got home I took the dog for a nice long walk. I needed to work off the adrenaline somehow.
I suppose it was inevitable. It had to happen sometime. We all ended up at the same street festival in the same town this afternoon. I introduced them to one another. They shook hands. W even said it was nice to meet BJ. (Liar!) They were both quite civil.
When I got home I took the dog for a nice long walk. I needed to work off the adrenaline somehow.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Hershey, Godiva, Ghiradelli, Nestlé, Whatever.........
Do you ever just want to say “Fuck It!!” about everything and everyone? That’s where I am right now. I want to just go crawl in bed, pull the covers up over my head and never come out.
Just slide the occasional chocolate bar under the covers for me, ‘kay?
see more dog pictures
Just slide the occasional chocolate bar under the covers for me, ‘kay?
see more dog pictures
Thursday, August 14, 2008
You Like Me! You Really Like Me!
Well, at least Buttafly does. She has been gracious enough to honor me with this award.
How awesome is that?
And now to spread some of the blog love, let me bestow the award on a couple of deserving folk:
Desmond Jones - I love Desmond's writing. He is a wise and caring man. That's probably good considering he's got more kids than I could ever handle. If you haven't read his blog you really should give it a try.
Redneck Mommy - I lurk on this blog, a lot. I don't think I've ever left a comment there, but this is a fantastic humorous look into a young mom's life in Canada. I love this woman, and I don't even know her. Another blog you should really give a try if you haven't already.
Seeing Red
If someone were to reach up through my vagina, uterus and fallopian tubes, grab my ovaries and try to pull my whole faulty reproductive system inside out surely it wouldn’t hurt much worse than the cramps I’m having today. And while we’re in the realm of TMI, let me just say that the hemorrhaging that is occurring thanks to Aunt Flo today is driving me insane. Hourly trips to the restroom are required to maintain hygiene and freshness in spite of using Super Plus tampons and Overnight sized pads.
Sometimes I think living without a uterus wouldn’t be so bad.
On the other hand, I dare anyone to try to mess with me today. If they do, I'm liable to go postal on their ass. Back off while you still can, and throw me another piece of chocolate. Grrr...
Sometimes I think living without a uterus wouldn’t be so bad.
On the other hand, I dare anyone to try to mess with me today. If they do, I'm liable to go postal on their ass. Back off while you still can, and throw me another piece of chocolate. Grrr...
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Touch Me!
No big surprises here really, except I suspect that I rank lower on Receiving Gifts than most women do. Maybe that's why for all the flowers and cards W sent me it couldn't make up for the hugs and kisses that didn't occur and the massive amounts of time he spent down the hall in front of the computer instead of with me.
Physical Touch and Quality Time.
Take the quiz
The Five Love Languages
My primary love languages are probablyPhysical Touch and Quality Time.
Complete set of results
| Physical Touch: | 10 | |
| Quality Time: | 10 | |
| Words of Affirmation: | 5 | |
| Acts of Service: | 4 | |
| Receiving Gifts: | 1 |
Information
Unhappiness in relationships, according to Dr. Gary Chapman, is often due to the fact that we speak different love languages. Sometimes we don't understand our partner's requirements, or even our own. We all have a "love tank" that needs to be filled in order for us to express love to others, but there are different means by which our tank can be filled, and there are different ways that we can express love to others.Take the quiz
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
More Random Than Random
- I’m suffering PMS this week, so go away. Really, just slip a chocolate bar under the door and leave please. Let me rant and rave in peace in my padded cell.
- The IRS sent me a notice that they received a W2 for 2006 that I didn’t report on my 2006 taxes. Funny thing is I never received a W2, nor do I believe I should have, from this particular corporation, a company related to the one for which I worked at the time. After repeated attempts to contact their payroll department, getting only voicemail, and leaving messages that are never returned I contacted the IRS. They told me what to say in a letter to the IRS, and they will then pursue the soulless corporation on my behalf. For the first time in my life I’m pleased with an IRS response to a problem.
- BJ left a shirt behind after our weekend together at my house. Every night at bed time I snuggle it and breathe in the sweet smell of BJ. No it isn’t as good as having him here, and it makes me feel just a little silly, but I won’t stop doing it. At least I won’t until he comes back and retrieves the shirt. Then I guess I won’t have much choice.
- I served on a short term committee at church, and just when we thought our work was done things fell through. Now we have more meetings right when several committee members are going to be out of town on late summer trips. We’re trying to pack in as much as we can this week before people start leaving town. Hmm, packing extra meetings and work into PMS week, what a great idea. Where’s that chocolate?
- N has a cold. It isn’t a bad cold, but it’s annoying to him. I can’t say I blame him. I think summer colds are much more annoying than winter colds. Snuggling up under a warm blanket and zoning out in front of the TV is much more satisfying in the bleak winter than the sunny summer.
- The Olympics are on TV. Day and night. I woke up last night around 2:30 and had trouble getting back to sleep. When I turned on the TV – you guessed it – the Olympics were on. Yeah, that put me back to sleep fairly quickly.
- My counselor is out of the country for the entire month of August. I was absolutely fine with that until W announced to me a few days ago that he wants to move some 300 miles away to a place where he’s never lived and knows no one but has a cheap cost of living. I freaked out (silently, in my head) when he told me. It bothers me very little for me, but very much for N. I believe it would send a message to N that he is not important to W. Actually, it sends that message to me, too. Part of me thinks he threw this idea out there to see if it would turn me around, make me profess that I can’t live without him and beg him to stay. He must’ve been awfully disappointed when I didn’t do that.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Anatomy of a Sunday
I nearly went crazy on Sunday. No, I know, that’s not much different from normal, but this was indeed a new level of crazy.
Now, I debate how detailed to get into the background to set the scene. Too little, and I’ll be filling in the gaps in the comments as people ask questions. Too much, and I’m just boring you to tears. It is a tough call on how much is central to the story and how much is extraneous detail.
Now some things are obvious, like telling you that BJ and I awoke around 6:30 a.m. for a little lovin’ before I got up for church. See? That’s just TMI so I won’t be including it in the story. On the other hand, is it or is it not essential to explain how I ended up heading to W’s apartment with a clean pair of underwear? This one’s not as clear cut. It may have some bearing in what happened later, but maybe not. So I wonder on several other details – too much, just enough, too little?
Basically, what you’ll get here (as you almost always do) is the long version, with many and varied extraneous details because that’s just how I roll through my deepest and darkest thoughts.
Sunday timeline:
Sometime between 7:30 and 8:00 a.m. – Get up, shower, dress and all that start of day stuff
Around 8:15 a.m. – Stumble downstairs, feed dog, start coffee, sit down to read blogs
8:24 a.m. – Phone rings; I answer; it’s N. He has no clean underwear at W’s place, but he has showered and needs clean underwear. I ask doesn’t he have any in his backpack only to learn from him that he left his backpack (with clean underwear and clothes for the weekend) in the back of my car. I tell him I’ll be right over with clean underwear.
8:30 a.m. – I brush my hair, pour coffee into a travel mug, and head out the door. I check the back of my car and, yes, the backpack is indeed there. I head off to W’s.
8:40 a.m. – I arrive and am greeted heartily by my naked son wrapped in a blanket. He dresses while I drink coffee and listen to N and W argue with one another. We also watch the Olympics – handball, a sport about which I am clueless, but it fascinated N.
9:15 a.m. or so – We all leave for church, N and me in my car, W in his. I enjoy the service, in spite of the interruption when N got gluestick all over his fingers on both hands (don’t ask), and I had to take him to the restroom to help him unglue himself.
10:30 a.m. – After church, N asks if he can go home with me. The answer would normally have been yes. However, I had a meeting to attend, and he would have to sit quietly and entertain himself for an hour or so before we could head home. He chose to go home with W instead.
11:25 a.m. – After the meeting, I head towards W’s to get N so we can go to TV3 for the baseball game. I call from my cell phone to let them know I’m on my way. W tells me that N has gone out to play, and he doesn’t know where he is. WTF?!? The kid’s nine, and you don’t know where he is? Excuse me?!? All W knew was the general neighborhood, but no he didn’t know exactly where N was or with whom.
12:15 p.m. – I have changed clothes and am waiting for N so we can go to the baseball game. I call W to see if N has shown up yet or at least called. Nope. W hasn’t heard from him. Great.
12:20 p.m. – I get in my car and drive slowly (sorry drivers behind me) through the streets of the neighborhood where N supposedly is. He isn’t outside anywhere, at least not where I can see him.
12:40 p.m. – I call W again and ask if he told N a certain time to be home. No, he hadn’t. Hadn’t he reminded him about the baseball game that I wanted to attend when he left? No, he hadn’t. W said he would get in his car and go look for N too. W could tell I was starting to melt down.
12:45 p.m. – Called BJ and told him we wouldn’t be meeting him at the ball game as planned and why. BJ felt the steam coming out of my ears right through the phone.
1:00 p.m. – I gave up looking for N. I was wasting gas, had circled through the neighborhood twice, and I really did believe he was okay wherever he was.
1:15 p.m. – W arrives at the house. He too has driven to all the places he knows to look for N and can’t find him. He senses my displeasure with his part in all this (he must be psychic, or maybe it was the steam coming out of my ears) and leaves.
1:38 p.m. – N casually saunters in and calls out from the hallway, “Hi Mom! Can my friend and I have something to drink?” N seems startled as I call him into the family room, and particularly when he sees the steam rolling out of my ears.
So that’s how my Sunday went. N and I, after I had N send his friend home, had a serious discussion, a mighty serious discussion. I did not cry. I did not scream. I very even handedly (thanks to my watching untold Super Nanny episodes and taking her lessons to heart) told him that it was not appropriate for him to disappear without giving either me or his dad a heads up as to his whereabouts. I explained to him that parents worry when they don’t know where their children are or how to find them. (No it isn’t the first time I’ve told him this, and it probably won’t be the last.) I laid down the law in a quiet but forceful manner. I told him that he will no longer go play without taking his cell phone with him so that his dad or I can stay in touch with him.
He complained that he doesn’t have a real cell phone because his is the kind that is parent protected so he can only make and receive calls from phone numbers that the parent has stored in the phone. He has my numbers (work, home, cell), W’s numbers (home and cell) and his grandparents’ number. That’s it. That’s it because those are the calls we feel are important to a kid who is nine. They are not the calls that N feels are important to a kid who is nine. So for that reason he has refused to carry the cell phone. The rule has now been established that if he doesn’t take the cell phone he will not be allowed to go out into the neighborhood on his own. I also made it very clear that we will not even consider a “real” cell phone for him unless/until he proves himself trustworthy with the phone he has now, meaning he needs to take it with him when he goes forth into the world, answers it when it rings rather than letting it go to voicemail, and doesn’t set it down and leave it behind somewhere.
While we were talking I also explained to him that the reason W and I give him so much freedom to roam is that we have been so impressed by his maturity and the way he handles himself so well with others. I explained to him that I don’t have to worry that when he is out playing that I will hear from other parents that he’s done something terrible. On the contrary, I always get good reports from parents and am told that he is very nice to have around. I explained that I told him all these things because I wanted him to understand that I do trust him a great deal, and that it is not a lack of trust in him that causes me to want to know exactly where he is, but a lack of trust in the world around him. I want him to be safe, and I want to be able to know that he is safe.
While N was not happy with the new rules laid down, and he certainly wasn’t happy that he wasn’t going back out to play yesterday, he wasn’t the angry out of control little boy I’ve seen in the past. Once I got past his initial resistance and got him to listen to me he reacted in a much more mature manner than I’ve seen before. Life is so different without W in the home. At no time was a voice raised yet if you were to ask N, I’m quite sure he would tell you he had indeed been disciplined yesterday afternoon. Without yelling coming from me, there was far less yelling from him than what I’ve seen in the past. Without W there to throw in his occasional sarcastic comment N maintained a fairly even keel in spite of being called on the carpet for his behavior and losing some privileges.
Without a doubt, I am not even close to a perfect parent. I definitely make mistakes and screw things up, but I do think I’m doing a better job now than before. I do think that life is getting onto a smoother road.
If you ever want to borrow a nine-year-old boy for a day, or two, or ten, I’d be happy to send him your way for a bit. Sometimes this being a good mom stuff gets tiring, y’know?
Now, I debate how detailed to get into the background to set the scene. Too little, and I’ll be filling in the gaps in the comments as people ask questions. Too much, and I’m just boring you to tears. It is a tough call on how much is central to the story and how much is extraneous detail.
Now some things are obvious, like telling you that BJ and I awoke around 6:30 a.m. for a little lovin’ before I got up for church. See? That’s just TMI so I won’t be including it in the story. On the other hand, is it or is it not essential to explain how I ended up heading to W’s apartment with a clean pair of underwear? This one’s not as clear cut. It may have some bearing in what happened later, but maybe not. So I wonder on several other details – too much, just enough, too little?
Basically, what you’ll get here (as you almost always do) is the long version, with many and varied extraneous details because that’s just how I roll through my deepest and darkest thoughts.
Sunday timeline:
Sometime between 7:30 and 8:00 a.m. – Get up, shower, dress and all that start of day stuff
Around 8:15 a.m. – Stumble downstairs, feed dog, start coffee, sit down to read blogs
8:24 a.m. – Phone rings; I answer; it’s N. He has no clean underwear at W’s place, but he has showered and needs clean underwear. I ask doesn’t he have any in his backpack only to learn from him that he left his backpack (with clean underwear and clothes for the weekend) in the back of my car. I tell him I’ll be right over with clean underwear.
8:30 a.m. – I brush my hair, pour coffee into a travel mug, and head out the door. I check the back of my car and, yes, the backpack is indeed there. I head off to W’s.
8:40 a.m. – I arrive and am greeted heartily by my naked son wrapped in a blanket. He dresses while I drink coffee and listen to N and W argue with one another. We also watch the Olympics – handball, a sport about which I am clueless, but it fascinated N.
9:15 a.m. or so – We all leave for church, N and me in my car, W in his. I enjoy the service, in spite of the interruption when N got gluestick all over his fingers on both hands (don’t ask), and I had to take him to the restroom to help him unglue himself.
10:30 a.m. – After church, N asks if he can go home with me. The answer would normally have been yes. However, I had a meeting to attend, and he would have to sit quietly and entertain himself for an hour or so before we could head home. He chose to go home with W instead.
11:25 a.m. – After the meeting, I head towards W’s to get N so we can go to TV3 for the baseball game. I call from my cell phone to let them know I’m on my way. W tells me that N has gone out to play, and he doesn’t know where he is. WTF?!? The kid’s nine, and you don’t know where he is? Excuse me?!? All W knew was the general neighborhood, but no he didn’t know exactly where N was or with whom.
12:15 p.m. – I have changed clothes and am waiting for N so we can go to the baseball game. I call W to see if N has shown up yet or at least called. Nope. W hasn’t heard from him. Great.
12:20 p.m. – I get in my car and drive slowly (sorry drivers behind me) through the streets of the neighborhood where N supposedly is. He isn’t outside anywhere, at least not where I can see him.
12:40 p.m. – I call W again and ask if he told N a certain time to be home. No, he hadn’t. Hadn’t he reminded him about the baseball game that I wanted to attend when he left? No, he hadn’t. W said he would get in his car and go look for N too. W could tell I was starting to melt down.
12:45 p.m. – Called BJ and told him we wouldn’t be meeting him at the ball game as planned and why. BJ felt the steam coming out of my ears right through the phone.
1:00 p.m. – I gave up looking for N. I was wasting gas, had circled through the neighborhood twice, and I really did believe he was okay wherever he was.
1:15 p.m. – W arrives at the house. He too has driven to all the places he knows to look for N and can’t find him. He senses my displeasure with his part in all this (he must be psychic, or maybe it was the steam coming out of my ears) and leaves.
1:38 p.m. – N casually saunters in and calls out from the hallway, “Hi Mom! Can my friend and I have something to drink?” N seems startled as I call him into the family room, and particularly when he sees the steam rolling out of my ears.
So that’s how my Sunday went. N and I, after I had N send his friend home, had a serious discussion, a mighty serious discussion. I did not cry. I did not scream. I very even handedly (thanks to my watching untold Super Nanny episodes and taking her lessons to heart) told him that it was not appropriate for him to disappear without giving either me or his dad a heads up as to his whereabouts. I explained to him that parents worry when they don’t know where their children are or how to find them. (No it isn’t the first time I’ve told him this, and it probably won’t be the last.) I laid down the law in a quiet but forceful manner. I told him that he will no longer go play without taking his cell phone with him so that his dad or I can stay in touch with him.
He complained that he doesn’t have a real cell phone because his is the kind that is parent protected so he can only make and receive calls from phone numbers that the parent has stored in the phone. He has my numbers (work, home, cell), W’s numbers (home and cell) and his grandparents’ number. That’s it. That’s it because those are the calls we feel are important to a kid who is nine. They are not the calls that N feels are important to a kid who is nine. So for that reason he has refused to carry the cell phone. The rule has now been established that if he doesn’t take the cell phone he will not be allowed to go out into the neighborhood on his own. I also made it very clear that we will not even consider a “real” cell phone for him unless/until he proves himself trustworthy with the phone he has now, meaning he needs to take it with him when he goes forth into the world, answers it when it rings rather than letting it go to voicemail, and doesn’t set it down and leave it behind somewhere.
While we were talking I also explained to him that the reason W and I give him so much freedom to roam is that we have been so impressed by his maturity and the way he handles himself so well with others. I explained to him that I don’t have to worry that when he is out playing that I will hear from other parents that he’s done something terrible. On the contrary, I always get good reports from parents and am told that he is very nice to have around. I explained that I told him all these things because I wanted him to understand that I do trust him a great deal, and that it is not a lack of trust in him that causes me to want to know exactly where he is, but a lack of trust in the world around him. I want him to be safe, and I want to be able to know that he is safe.
While N was not happy with the new rules laid down, and he certainly wasn’t happy that he wasn’t going back out to play yesterday, he wasn’t the angry out of control little boy I’ve seen in the past. Once I got past his initial resistance and got him to listen to me he reacted in a much more mature manner than I’ve seen before. Life is so different without W in the home. At no time was a voice raised yet if you were to ask N, I’m quite sure he would tell you he had indeed been disciplined yesterday afternoon. Without yelling coming from me, there was far less yelling from him than what I’ve seen in the past. Without W there to throw in his occasional sarcastic comment N maintained a fairly even keel in spite of being called on the carpet for his behavior and losing some privileges.
Without a doubt, I am not even close to a perfect parent. I definitely make mistakes and screw things up, but I do think I’m doing a better job now than before. I do think that life is getting onto a smoother road.
If you ever want to borrow a nine-year-old boy for a day, or two, or ten, I’d be happy to send him your way for a bit. Sometimes this being a good mom stuff gets tiring, y’know?
Running on Empty
Some people are soooooooo paranoid.
Just because the "Low Fuel" light comes on doesn't mean you are on the verge of having the car sputter to a stop. It just means you need to stop for gas in the next 50 miles or so.
Besides, as long as you have someone along to send on a walking expedition to get a can of gas what's the big deal? I mean, really, the worst that could've happened is a bit of inconvenience for me and N having to wait while BJ walked to the nearest exit to buy a can of gas and walk back with it. We'd have been willing to patiently wait for him.
No problem I say.
Bwahahahahaha.
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