What doesn't kill you....

Interesting saying right?  It's been a while since my last post, things have been a little hectic. I would dare to say more than hectic.  In fact what hasn't killed us... well you how the saying goes.

Raising kids is tough work - power to the single parents truly doing this alone.  Raising step-kids I still think tougher than dealing with your own.  The past two years have been a true test.  A test from teenagers struggling to find their way, to our youngest realizing some ugly truths, a test of marriage and commitment, of love and respect and ultimately of strength and patience.

I thought we had a pretty good family unit for a while - we are a blended family and one who always operated pretty well.  Without knowing if it is due to true teen angst, suppressed hatred or anger or 'rumblings' amongst households, we have had quite a show of drama.  Some typical, some not.  I ask myself 'is this what I put my parents through?'.  I know it isn't - maybe a slight version but not the ugliness we have had.  

All I can say is the grace and patience my husband has shown through the disrespect, the slaps in the face, the boldface lies, sleepless nights is that of Jobe.  He has held me as I shake and say "I just cannot do this", has put up with my frustration, has stood strong, has buckled, has had his own moments of jerkdom but has held it together more than not and most of all has shown love every step of the way.  Of course not everyone sees it that way....Maybe one day...

So here I am, back to my virtual diary and the therapy it brings.  Hoping that we have turned a bit of a corner in our personal little space in this world. Stay tuned.  

From a stronger me

A real 'toy story'.

My son mentioned to me that his father told him he had sold his toys. He thought his dad was joking but hesitated. I encouraged him to ask him father and hopefully clear up what was looking to be a really bad joke. As my son was talking with me, he was reminiscing on old toys he used to play with and things that he missed. He mentioned that he really hoped certain ones weren't sold.

(One important side note is that my son rarely goes to his father's home anymore. Things have changed with his visitation and so my son had no idea what is still there at his dad's home or not. But regardless, these are things he still considered his, in 'his room' at his dad's home).

Then the big question finally asked over a phone call. 'Dad, did you really get rid of my stuff'? The answer.... 'Yes'.

Compounding this, is the fact that his father is moving; moving in with his fiancé who has another child and they are expecting one together. He is in a new home, where there is a room full of toys, but they are for someone else. My son has been there a few times. So... as a parent, do you say anything or not?

My head and heart were just exploding. I was so torn on what to do.  This isn't the first issue and it won't be the last.  At face value, it may even sound silly to be so upset over something like this.  But, it is the principle.  And anyone with children knows, there are some toys that are more than just plastic.  More than just a stuffed bear.  Plus what about just having something that was 'his' in the new place for when he does go there.

When my son hung up that phone and looked at me, his eyes looked sad and let down. Specifically there were two items he wanted, that meant something to him. Perhaps more but two he remembered. They were now gone, with no regard and no way to get them back.

I will confess that I gave in.  As much as I wanted to allow this to remain between the two of them, I later reached out and asked why these things were given away without asking. I wanted him to see or very least sense the disappointment. The sad look of my son fighting back being let down (again). How much he struggled to look me in the eye and go 'oh well, it really isn't a big deal mom' and then quickly look away so he wouldn't break down. But no matter what I say, those looks will never be viewed by his dad. My son plays strong for him. Doesn't want to hurt his feelings. Doesn't want to disappoint him.

The conversation only confirmed a few things for me. It did not do anything for my son. At least not yet. Perhaps his father will think twice now about any similar decisions he makes in the future. I want to fight this and many other battles for my son. I want to ease his broken heart. Especially when it is being broken by someone so close. I want to protect his precious and kind soul. I know I can't save him from the world around us, but that isn’t what is letting him down. It is also a lesson about 'things'.  They are just that and can be lost at any time.  I only hope that my hugs, tickle fights and snuggle time will provide temporary comfort for him.  He will get over this.  He won't harbor ill feelings.  He will see this is just one small piece of what may come his way.  And yes, people you love may let you down, in small or big ways.  But son, there’s a whole gang of us who have your back.

It takes a village...

The phrase it takes a village to raise a child has always fascinated me.  Through my journey of adulthood and parenthood, I have realized how true this is.  It isn't because we can't raise our own children, but because there are so many factors outside of your home that will ultimately impact you and your children. 

Over the past few years as our children get older and are becoming more social and independent, it has interested me how the parents communicate (or don't) with each other.  When I was younger, I was not allowed to go to any one's house unless my parents had spoken with theirs.  Of course there were no cell phones so when  you called someones home, you knew they were there.  There was no texting, no email.  You had to speak with someone if you wanted information.

There are days now where I feel it is almost a losing battle to get to know the parents of who my children are hanging out with, socializing with, dating.  Becoming Facebook friends with them does not count.  I don't need to know them intimately but I would like to be able to recognize them in a room.  I would like to have a conversation without feeling as though I am intruding when I ask if they will be home or what time we should arrange a pick-up/drop off.  It is almost as though with our cell phones and text and oh-so important lives now, we are relying on our kids to arrange all the details parents used to.  With that, comes the non-socialization of parents and our kids controlling factors we should be with curfews, where they will be, etc..  I can't even count how many times our children have tried to negotiate arrangements on our behalf and details are either not true or were so much simpler when we directly speak with the other parent.

Additionally, when something does happen when our children are with another child and their parents suspect wrong doing, it is our responsibility to speak with each other.  If we choose to ignore the 'village' support we have and instead use that to spread gossip, untrue accounts, suspicions, etc... it can have disastrous effects.  It is a shame, especially coming from adults that this path is chosen. 

It does take a village, including the good and the bad of it. For those that choose to chatter vs. confirm, I can only hope my "village" will see it for what it is. And while I will embrace the benefits of technology, I am still going to trust and use old-fashioned parent to parent communication.

Don't make me say Goodnight to Goodnights...

A while ago I was fighting the good night ritual.  It had become a not so pleasant one, and I spent so much time wishing it would pass.  Lots of anxieties, worries about surviving through the night.  Questions that I could not answer.  What was once such a sweet innocent time of snuggling and kisses and sometimes impatience had become a time of stress, sadness and loss for knowing what to do. 

Then, it happened, the anxiety slowly was cured.  FANTASTIC you say!  Yes it was.  But then it became too cool to say good night.  Too cool for snuggles.  I am a man now and don't need to be tucked in.  What!?!?  How did I know that despite the stress and true worry those nights had, I would eventually miss not having it at all.

Which brings me to last night, it was rough.  After a sleep-over and learning that sleep probably did not happen we suffered through the crankiness and tude-ness of it's aftereffects; eventually we were able to have a discussion and kissed and made up.  The rest of the night was one I wish I could hold onto forever.  Pleasant conversation.  Snuggles on the couch while watching TV and even a 'mom... can you come up and say good night.  that show freaked me out a bit'.  Me: (WHAT? YES!, wait play it cool mom!!)  umm I mean sure.  if that is what you want. 

Thinking in my head of course, trying hard not to show I was really dancing a jig.  My 'man' who was too cool and too grown up was spooked.  And who did he want?  That's right, ME! Momma! MEEEE! I can't even tell you how that felt. 

I climbed to the top of the stairs and walked in.  There he was blankets up to his eyebrows and he looked barely over them and welcomed me into bed.  He did not want to talk, he just wanted me there.  I sucked every second of it in.  Breathing in his hair that doesn't smell so baby fresh anymore but smelled just delightful in his own way.  Kissing his forehead and cheek, his skin still soft, not yet giving into adolescence and stubble (THANK GOODNESS!).  Saying as I used to say every night "I love you, remember you are AMAZING'.  I got the usual tired moan-groan knowing he was just about in that falling asleep mode, he did share a 'love you tooooo' whisper. 

I laid there not wanting to leave but knowing the bed was not big enough for the two of us.  I wondered how many more nights like this I may get.  I wanted to bottle it up and then began to resent myself for not embracing the past nights more.   How stupid of me!!! But I quickly shoved that voice out of my head, knowing it is something that has to happen, and so often is felt by hurried parents.  I didn't need to beat myself over it.  I needed to be thankful for even being able to have those nights at all.  I had been a single parent, I had worked two jobs - I knew what it was like to not even have the time to savor a good night.  So I told that voice to bugger off. 

I stayed a bit longer just smelling and listening to his breath and having my cheek pressed to his.  I said I love you one more time and whispered 'remember you're amazing' again.  Just because.  I walked out and looked back and realized how truly blessed I am.  Despite my rough patch now.  I know I am.  But I still don't want to say goodnight to 'goodnights'. 

blurred vision

Vision is just one of our senses.  We rely on it to be safe, to perform our day to day duties, entertainment, etc.. It also can play tricks on us.  It has been a while since I have seen my ex in a normal day to day situation.  Typically it is in passing during the visitation drop off/pick up or randomly at an event.  During these times there is little interaction, he is dressed down and there is virtually no participation on his part.  In front of anyone, it is just a civil hello/goodbye.  Any other time, the conversation when there is one, has become hateful and argumentative or just one word answers.  I do not believe he is sober so I am always on guard for those little signals to give that away.

Recently, we met at an event that was right after work.  He came clean-shaven, dressed in his preppy way and was conversational.  After only speaking to someone or getting such angry communication from someone for so long, knowing their history of alcoholism - it was almost as though my vision of him had become blurred.  Much like the show Grimm.  Looking at him he would often morph into the sad, drunken person I was trying so hard to escape and protect my child from.  Seeing him in this light was confusing.  It is no wonder it has taken some people so long to know of his addiction.  It also reminded me that he, the true 'he' does still exist.  Deep down, somewhere in there. 

With that, it also terrifies me.  Is this a new beginning?  Is there really a new leaf or just a continued charade?  Does his new wife know of his past?  It is hard to believe that this is a possibility when there is so much continued blame and hate being thrown at you.  If one was truly recovered, there would be more acceptance and apology.  Humbleness.  I would welcome a fresh beginning if I saw that.  But there is none.  So here I am with blurred vision, not knowing what I see in front of me and wishing I had that magical prescription to see the truth. 

Wonder Woman.... where are you?

Often I have felt that it really takes a superhero to manage motherhood. How fitting that Halloween is tomorrow. It also makes me (dare I say) appreciate what my parents went through raising me. How is can we though be all to all and still be sane, hold a job, etc…

If there was ever a need to have a ‘bat light’ to shine out there and have my super hero come down out of the sky, save the day and make me feel wonderful as they run off into the night it really would be now. I do have a super-hero in my husband, but it is not the same. As wonderful and amazing as he makes me feel, he is no match for the guilt and weight I put on my own shoulders. He tries, but it is like kryptonite that can’t just be picked up, flown off to the middle of the desert and buried. Instead it just sits and weighs heavier and heavier until I crash.

Today however, I did something I rarely do. I gave myself a break. I was missing my (step)son’s game this morning due to a conflict in getting my son to and from seeing his father. At first I was so annoyed that this was impacting me seeing a game but then found out the game was cancelled. So I was very thankful I was not in the car with my super mad husband driving 3 hours for nothing. It then turned into a blessing in disguise. While he was (I am sure) cursing whomever it was responsible for not sharing fields were closed due to weather, I was home chipping away at a large pile of papers that needed dealing with.

On the way to see my son’s father, my son revealed frustrations in always going to his brothers games and sitting in the cold, doing nothing. It broke my heart as we moved and he is having to find new friends yet most of our weekends are in a car going from one sport to the next. I made the decision to stay back from the second game of the day and have my son play with a neighborhood friend while I made the cookies I owe for tomorrow’s Halloween party, continued chipping away at that pile of papers, organize bills etc… It was …. nice.

I hate to say that out loud because as I sit and think about it, I am rather bummed not to be watching our other boy play. However, if I push that guilt aside, today was actually really nice. I can’t tell you the last Sunday I have had to actually get stuff done, to cook real food – one where I actually need an apron and mixer, where I am sitting down and working on something instead of rushing around and watching the clock for when we have to run out the door.

I do truly wish I could be there and do it all. when our kids grow up – I want them to know or remember wow she was there all the time; but with the current demands of our kids and having multiple children as well as work, it feels virtually impossible to be there ALL of the time. I wish I did not have to work. But I do. I am also hoping as we get to know more people who our youngest will be able to go his own way more or have a friend to bring with him instead of resenting going to his brothers games. It is hard on him as well. But for all 3 of our children, whatever it is I do hope that when they do look back they will at least acknowledge how much I tried to be there for everything. And for every time I wasn’t, there was a reason…Even if that reason was to help their brother make friends and attempt to help myself from going insane.

Girls Night Out

There’s something about seeing your girlfriends that I think helps the soul. It could also be the bottles of wine we have been known to finish off while chatting.

Lately, I have felt pretty lost. Almost as though I don’t even know myself anymore. It is a strange feeling and in the midst of keeping up with daily life’s chores,kids homework and their dramas, taking care of the home, the husband, the dog, work…. it is easy to not even realize you are lost. However, when there are those moments of quiet or calm and that feeling starts to come over you. It is almost like a gray fog that gradually becomes all-consuming.

I am not sure I would define it as depression, but that seems to be the easiest category to fit it into. I am working to learn how to manage this. How to find myself amidst it all, and actually discovering if the person I thought I was is actually who I am or just who I wanted to be. That complicates things a bit but in diving down deep to my subconscious self I begin to realize that it may just be that I never was that girl. Having some old friends surround you, with true girl perspective is helping me find out. And you know what I learned….. even if I wasn’t that girl and even if I am lost now… what a great time to carve a new path and start by being the woman I want to be now….

In the best interest...

I used to wonder why people stay together in an unhappy marriage ‘for the kids’, but now I sometimes understand it. After all, there is a lot (and I mean a LOT) of things that would be easier if you choose that route. I did not make that decision – I divorced for two significant reasons, 1) because I felt life is too short to be in an unhappy and unhealthy marriage and perhaps more importantly 2) felt it was in the best interest and health/safety for myself and my child.

At no time did I feel a direct threat to my life – and I feel for those that are in that situation. But I did have to talk my ex ‘off the ledge’ many times. I have watched as he passed out continuously, not being able to wake him. Wondered where on earth he may be because he was not home, but passed out on a metro train or other place. I could go on and on. Why I wound up in that situation is another story itself. But where things truly crossed a line for me is when there began to be a direct impact on my child.

One of the issues in dealing with addicts is that they often do not see the problem. Hence, nothing should be wrong and everyone else is the issue. That is where I am - and I am struggling with the ‘this is all your fault’, knowing it really isn’t, but hearing it enough to maybe/sort of start to believe it. When I am able to conquer that, where I then find myself is in the very vicious circle and the battle of the emotional vs. the logical of what is in the best interest of my child. I also question the best interest for myself because fighting these battles has a significant impact on all surrounding parties, but always above and beyond me, I do my part to put the impact on me aside and try to view what is it that is in the best interest of my child. Is it healthy or good that his heart is continually broken? Do I stand up for all the times I have had to explain things to his disappointing eyes? Am I a horrible mother because I am trying to protect my child and ensure they are mentally healthy and safe? When history has repeated itself so many times, how long do you keep hoping that maybe things have finally changed? And do I trust it has (knowing in my gut that it hasn’t) at the expense of my child?

My child wants time with my ex – thus the struggle. If they did not, I would fight much harder and be much more strict about it’s the by the papers or nothing. On his part, there is no stepping up, there are no proactive steps, and no proving himself which is something he has said he would work to do. But alas… here I am fighting the internal and emotion battle of what is truly in the best interest…

Where does a woman begin?

I used to keep a journal. I found that it really helped sort out the ramblings in my head. Allowing me to vent. Cry. Share what I dared not. All without sacrificing my secrets, privacy, and most of all pride. How ancient of me… Now it is facebook, blogs, everyone spewing every second of their day to 100′s or even 1000′s of ‘friends’. I am not sure if this is the right outlet for me, but being that I have found myself in a quandary of sorts in keeping my thoughts rational, I thought I would give it a go and see what this fuss was about.

So with that, here is where I start… with the questions weighing on me. Balancing what is heard so often, those praises of the woman – how she is expected to be all, do all, bear all and still have dinner on the table, look ravishing and fit and oh by the way be charming and lovable. Seriously? Yes, I am woman and hear me roar. Yes, I can do all that. And Yes, I can do it in stilettos or flats should I choose them and look pretty damn good while I do it. But why is it that we are expected to? Is it a burden we place on ourselves, fighting for equality. Or one we say we fight, but really embrace to feel purpose? Why is it that a woman who cares about her child is referred to as a bear? Not a teddy bear but a mama bear with claws out ready to tear apart those who are in her way?

Be it a mother, a sister, a friend, a lover … why is it when we choose to fight or stand up for what we feel is right we are either a b&*^h or a crusader. Why are we not simply a woman…one who may be right or may be wrong, who has the right to make mistakes, be misguided or be educated and completely justified. I hope to someday be just that. A woman who stood up for what she felt was right, did not settle, was an amazing friend, family member, wife and mother. I don’t need any of the other labels, dramatic, crude or what have you.  I just want to be able to feel that I was the best me I could be and gave the best to my friends and family.