What Mother Nature can teach us

I work at an office complex that borders a man-made lake.  Many geese and ducks inhabit the lake, and about 5 weeks ago, the ducks and geese began to build their nests.  A mama goose and her mate (they mate for life, did you know?) decided the perfect place to build their happy home was right outside the door to my suite.  I watched her as she built the nest in a planter, with her mate standing guard the whole process.  Then she settled in and laid her eggs.  Her mate was constantly hovering around, protecting her from anyone who dared ventured close to see how she was progressing.  Then one day her mate was gone.  He had been hit by a car in the parking lot, and now she was alone.  On a nest of her babies.  With no one to protect them.  I watched her every day, stopping by to ask how she was doing, amazed at her fortitude.  Could I be that kind of mom?  Could I, with the absence of all support, give birth to and raise a gaggle of kids?  To sit on that nest for a month without giving thought to myself, MY needs?  The sad answer to that was no.

I don't know whether as a human I am naturally selfish, if Mother Nature has embedded animals with the need to procreate that rises above the narcissism I feel every day that it is all.about.me.  But I can tell you that every day I saw that mama goose sitting on her nest without fail, I was saddened by my own weakness and strengthened by her resolve.

Her babies hatched last Friday.  5 cute and fuzzy little goslings.  She let us get up close and take pictures, probably because she was used to us passing by every day.  But she was clearly on guard.

Today I found them swimming happily just off shore of our little lake and I was so proud of her for being so strong.

I can only hope I too can be that strong.

slumlord

I own a home.  Well technically BofA owns my home, but whatever--semantics.  The house is way to large for me and the kid, by several thousand square feet.  The cost of just keeping it cool/warm was killing me financially, so last year I decided to rent it out and move into a rental closer to work and family.  The result was a nasty custody battle, several episodes of anxiety attacks, and financial distress, but here we are, a year later.  I am in a rental that while I am not in love with the house, it's everything I need and allows R to attend a great school with his cousins.  And I have tenants.  Who feel that paying their rent on time is not really as important as I do.  So here it is, the end of the month, and still no rent from the tenants.  Today was their last day to pay or I'd evict.  I'm almost hopeful they don't because I'd love to evict them and then short sell the house.  I'll never live there again, and I'll never see the price I've got it mortgaged to.....but I am certain they will pay at the last minute, thus again keep me in the position of landlord once again.

Sigh.

good lord

while playing monster truck jam on the Wii, R (driving as the girl) "turns his truck over"

The BF:  Just like your mom
R:  Yeah just like my mom, turns over all the time.

WTF????

regression

My kid has been potty trained for what seems like forever (he is six after all).  I had a mommy manifesto whereby as of his 6th birthday I would no longer wipe his butt after a "number 2"--I was tired of hearing "MOOOOOOOMMMMM, I'm done."  every time he pooped.  so we prepped and taught how to wipe and magically, before the 6th birthday, he started wiping his own stinky butt.  Fast forward to this week, where the kid is totally incapable of wiping his own ass.  And the shit spread all over his bathroom due to his disgusting habit of sticking his finger up his butt to see if it's clean (WTF??????????????).  So after many underwear changes and bathroom scrub-downs, I've decided that I have to demand wiping rights to be returned to me.

Now the kicker...he's with his dad 3 weekends a month (my judge sucked) so I figured we'd commiserate and brainstorm solutions together.  Only, his dad swears R is the perfect pottier at his home.  Is it possible that a child can exhibit a behavior regularly daily, but on the weekends he's with his dad he's perfect?  I can't believe it.  When I was a kid, when I went to my mom's for the weekend, I was totally myself.  Which means I was a total shit.  But I knew she had guilt for not maintaining custody and I used that to my advantage.  I was a few years older than R, but still, he knows.  And the fact that his dad refuses to either admit that there is some regression or in denial that there is makes this "co-parenting" thing a real pain in the ass.

How do people do this??? 

Being female

This is the time of year when I get all test female out of the way.  Last week was the oh so fun PAP smear (came back clear, yay!), today was routine bloodwork and the ever enjoyable mammogram.  I am convinced they can find a way that doesn't involve smooshing one's breast into a pancake, but I know how important these things are, so I comply with a smile and a thank you to the tech.  Tomorrow I undergo my eye exam where I will be told (again) that I really need bi-focals, and this time I will probably comply.  I hate not being able to see well enough to watch tv with enjoyment or play wii with the kid.

What's your "favorite" annual exam?

Ah, fun with Twister

Mom, I was playing a game with B and C (cousins) where you spin the thing and it tells you what color to put your hands and feet on.  You don't need to know how to read, R means right and L means left.  It's easy.  I love the Twisters."

Alrighty then.  Think he's ready for college.

Happy Birthday, Mr. President

Good times in the Mo household.  Picked up R late from his dad's so they wouldn't have to rush through dinner.  yes, I am that ex-wife who does whatever he asks to just fucking keep the peace.

Anyway, we get home and R demands something or the other in his typical dictator fashion.  I turn to him and I say, "Am I your slave?  Didn't Abraham Lincoln abolish slavery?  Go get it yourself." 

and you know what???  He did.

amazing.

painting

I am not a domestic goddess type of person.  I'm a hire a maid even though I live in a shoe box kind of person.  That being said, the BF bought a house that needed some work and since he'll be living with me and R in said shoe box until it's habitable, I offered up my services to get it moving along. 

This brings us to yesterday, painting day.  I have, in my 42 years on this planet, painted one wall one time.  And I hated every freaking second of it.  And I had help!  So yesterday when tasked with painting 2 bedrooms and a hallway, I quite honestly was rather annoyed that I had volunteered.  But I am a girl of my word, so I boldly went where I don't like to go, roller in hand.  I still hated every second of it, and I still suck at it, but I did it.  The results showed my lack of skill (how the hell does the paint not stick to the freaking wall???  Aha, BF just informed me that he got the cheap paint--2 coats minimum). 

He worked too, don't get me wrong.  "Fixing up a house is a marathon, not a sprint."  thanks, genius.  Having my work critiqued also didn't help my mood.

At the end of the day, after 6 or so hours of painting, coat one was on and drying.  And I'm not volunteering again for that chore. 

And I will never paint a wall again.  Its good to have goals :-)

bedtime

usually, bedtime is not a big deal here.  R gets his story, I lay with him for a few minutes, and then all is well in everyone's world. But occasionally we have nights like tonight.  The refusing to brush teeth, listen to direction nights that drive me to drink.  Add to that the BF's philosophy on raising children (tonight's pronouncement of "you're screwing him up" was a nice touch), and it leads to a rather stressful nighttime situation.  R crying, "Mom, you're not listening to me."  BF saying, "he's not doing what he's supposed to do, so put him to bed and walk away." And my mom instinct which says, "get the boy to brush his teeth and take his allergy medication."  sigh.  lots of tears and slamming of doors in my house this evening.  Here's hoping tomorrow goes more smoothly.

Valentine's Day

Growing up, Valentine's day was the day you told the boys in your family how much you loved them.  Being the only girl, that meant a gift for my dad and two brothers to be placed on their dinner plates that evening.  Such pressure for a young girl.  Today, I get a gift for my parents and my son, and of course something for the BF, S.  My dad gets me a gift every year, and my mom gets my son something as well.  The point of the tradition is to show those we love that we are thinking of them on this Hallmark holiday.  In my heart, I'd rather ignore this day, thinking it to be such a commercial mess that shouldn't be acknowledged.  But my son has to do valentines for every kid in his class, so I can't ignore it.  And at my core I am a romantic who wants to give my significant other more proof that I love him.  So I continue the tradition started in my youth.  I do have to admit, my son felt entitled, "where are my presents?; and my BF was "you got me a Valentine's gift????"  both felt right to me.  My dad gave me a lovely bouquet of flowers, so I did receive something.  but in all honesty, today felt more like a giving day than a receiving day.  Is that a sign that I am maturing or a sign that I have given up on the hope of anyone giving me something just out of love (other than my dad)?  A question for the ages, I guess.

I think I've forgotten....

.......how to relax.  I've got the entire weekend to myself, just me and all the four-legged creatures, and I find myself at a loss as to how to just "be".  I have a list as long as my arm of chores I need to do around the house, so that might be part of the problem, but honestly, I can't even sit down and enjoy my book.  When I do, I look around the house and think, "self, you need to dust and vacuum", and immediately the book is no longer relaxing.  Perhaps I need to schedule in mandatory "me time" in which there is no using of cleaning products for a determinate amount of time.

I'll get right on that, just as soon as I put that next load of laundry in.

sigh.

A weekend alone

As I sit here attempting to recover from the Kindergarten Valentine's Day party (whoever decided that sugaring kids up and letting them loose on unsuspecting mom-volunteers to do various crafts was a good idea must die), I'm looking back at my day with wonder.

When I was pregnant, I found a group of moms on Baby Center (BBC.com) who had Jan. '05 due dates as well.  there were probably 30 or so moms who visited regularly, and we continued to "chat" as our babies grew into toddlers, sharing and enjoying each others milestone moments with our wee ones.  We also felt comfortable enough with each other to share the struggles and minefields that come with parenthood.  We migrated to Facebook, this group of moms and I, and have continued to share our lives with each other there.  I got to meet two of these wonderful "InvisiFriends" today for lunch.  It was awesome.  It felt honestly like we had been friends forever, even though we had never heard each others voices before.  It was so easy to just talk about the joys and not so joyful travels through parenthood; our crazy pets, etc.  These women were there through my divorce, and all the trials and tribulations that went with that.  I can honestly say that the women I met today, and all of the other women with whom I have developed virtual friendships are just as important to me and loved by me as those friends who can sit on my sofa on a Saturday night.  It is a wonderful feeling.

I am glad I joined the January baby boards back in 2004 on BBC.  It has made my life much richer for the experience.

And now I look at the next two days stretched before me.  No child (he's with his dad), no boyfriend (he's visiting friends), no plans (except for the darn oil change tomorrow)........whatever will I do with all of this alone time?  Let's see:
1.  Do 25 loads of laundry
2.  pooper-scoop so the dogs don't eat their own shit
3.  Homework
4.  Housework of the scrubbing variety (how do boys NOT pee into the toilet????)
5.  Grocery shopping
6.  Organize my sock drawer (I spent 10 minutes this morning looking for a pair of socks!!)

OK, so I think I just figured out that my alone time is going to be spent channeling my inner Cinderella.  At least I won't be interrupted every 5 minutes with, "Mom, will you play with me?"

Always good to find the bright side of things :-)

god dangit

I swear to god I still smell the poop.  And I'm at work!?!  W.T.F?????

And R thought it was freaking hilarious that the puppy ate his own poop.  Just praying that he doesn't try to do the same.

Ewww, I think I just puked a little in my mouth. 

yes, I am this immature

R:  "Mom, wouldn't it be funny if S had a horse?"
Me:  "Yes, especially since he doesn't ride horses."
R:  "Well, then, what does he ride?"
Me:  Snort, snicker, chuckle..."ummm, sometimes a bike?"

I am so not an adult :-)

The last 12 hours

9:30 pm, hit the sack.
12 a.m., wake up to the stench of dog shit
12:15 am, scrubbing bedroom floor of poo schmear, as the puppy ate his own shit right after taking previously mentioned dump.
1:45 am, still awake and still smelling poop
3:45 am, still awake, still smelling poo and now my child enters my room to stare at me.  Knowing S has to get up at 4 to catch his flight, I tell R to jump into my bed.
5 am, still awake, still smelling shit, R is sleeping horizontally on the bed with his feet in my back, the puppy is sleeping on my legs and the other dog is at the foot of the bed.
5:30 am, still awake, still smelling that god-awful shit smell--where the hell is it coming from?, the dogs are on the bed taking up a lot of room, the kid is doing acrobatics in his sleep.  Crap, might as well get up.

Ends up the poo smell is my son's breath mixed with the puppy's breath.  Lovely.

my life

R: Mom, you need to find Shoe (stuffed horse).
Me: It has to be in your bed, buddy.
R: It's not, I swear
Me: Oh look, here it is behind your pillow. I am magic.
R: No you aren't. You didn't find it, I did. ...
Me: Oh no, I am so magic.
R: No you aren't. You are just lucky. 

such is my life :-)

ramblings

My child cracks me up.  I know most moms have that feeling, but oh.my.god. does he ever come off with some great one liners.  I love that about him.

The boyfriend is currently working on making his newly purchased home livable.  Considering he has no experience in such things as remodeling a home, I am so very impressed by his abilities and subsequent results.  When I told him this today, he seemed shocked, but in all seriousness, he took this place from a cat-pee smelling hole to an amazing place.  And he's only halfway done.  He gets an idea and he just goes for it; somehow he just knows he can do this.  Such the opposite of me.  I look at a task and immediately assume that there is no way I can accomplish said task.  Defeated before I even start.  He just rolls up his sleeves and does.  How I envy that.

Back to the kid.  I signed him up for karate.  He left the house in the morning expecting to be able to return to the homestead with the ability to "karate chop the whole house"--ummm, you are a white belt novice, young jedi.  Give it some time.  When I picked him up and asked him how it went, he said, "It was so boring mom.  We learned to punch, kick, and about stranger danger.  Totally boring."  Ummm, you learned to punch and kick, where is the boring in that?  Apparently he was sorely disappointed in the lack of kicking ninja butt instruction he received.  Too funny.

Now we are doing the class valentine writing.  He's not really friends with anyone in his class, his best friends are all in other classes in his school, so getting him to complete this task is painful for both of us.  I'm thinking a few a day is the best way to get this task accomplished.

Okay, time to go back to being a mom.  Yay, me :-)   

diet patrol

I would have to say that one good thing about owning a Great Dane with a sweet tooth is knowing that you will not be able to enjoy the leftover birthday cake that is left on the counter. 

I think he gets kickbacks from my Weight Watchers leader.

Damn them.

Afterbirth

Who knew that the birthdays following the actual birth day could cause such enormous stress in a mom.  In attempt to be "budget conscious" I made the cakes for both the friend party and the family party.  Oh and I also made the dinner for the family party.  I will be recovering from this effort for the next week, at least.  But it was appreciated by my family, if not by my child.  I am sure that at age 6, one can not appreciate the working mom's dilemma of creating two cakes and a dinner for 13 while balanced with work could be.  This kid who today said, "maybe if I am late I will get fired from piano lessons." 

sigh.

Birthday Overload

Today was R's 6th birthday party, the Friends edition.  I invited only a few kids, only those R asked me to invite, so the "sports" theme was a bit hindered from the start.  Made a cake, got sandwiches and chips, hired a kid to entertain the rug rats.....I guess it went okay.  Then this evening, thanks to the BF, we went to the Monster Truck Jam at the baseball stadium.  It appears my son is more white trash than I ever knew.  He LOVED monster trucks.  Especially when someone flipped over and maybe DIED.  Oh, that was the best. 

When R turned 5, we opened presents outside of the party...that was the web-recommendation.  This year the kids insisted on R opening his presents.  I was shocked that the kids who brought presents were totally dissing the kids who gave R gift cards.  "OK, you got him a card, but where's the present?  I went to Toys R Us and got him something, why couldn't you?"  It was ugly.  Last year there wasn't this derisiveness.  Is it due to school?  Should I not have moved him from school district A to school district B?  I can tell you that R was so over the moon about the cash.....I think I've created the next Donald Trump.  He is so money driven, it's almost an illness.

Tomorrow is the "family party".  My dad's birthday is a few days after my son's so the family party will actually fall on my dad's birthday--kind of cool. My dad loves R like no one else.  It's been great to see the bond develop between the two of them.  My dad will pick R up from school just to hang out with him.  It's awesome.  My dad is getting up there in years and these times with my son will stay forever in his memory, or so I hope.

Happy 6th Birthday weekend, little man.  As you sleep, I hope you are dreaming of the Bat Man Monster truck :-)

Doctor's Advice

so today was R's 6th year office visit.  This is about the only time R ever goes to the doctor, thank you Jesus, or whomever controls such things.  So, he's fat and short, but otherwise healthy---yeah.  But while waiting for the doctor to arrive, I read to R the "Rules and Consequences" brochure there for the taking.  I am apparently no longer allowed to yell at R, because it could set a bad example.  So I tell R, if I yell at you I have to put a coin in your piggy bank.  Suffice it to say, all night long the kid has been begging me to yell at him.

This strategy works.

How to motivate a 6 y/o

R:  immediately upon waking:  "Can I open my presents?"
me:  "if you get dressed, brush teeth and hair, and put on your shoes quickly you can"
R:  in I swear 10 minutes TOPS, fully dressed and groomed:  "OK mom, I'm ready to open them."

I may have to have presents for him to open every stinking day of the school year.

Turning 6

One of the reasons I wanted to start this blog was because, not only do I need to journal things for my own personal sanity and self-reflection, I also want to create a place where I can store memories of my kid.  Who says some really funny shit, by the way.  Freaking hilarious. 

Anywho, said kid is turning 6 in two days, the day after tomorrow, Wednesday. Oh.My.God.  Six.  I can't believe it been 6 years since they removed him from my abdomen like a fatty tumor (I was an inadequate pusher, according to my nurse).  I remember refusing to change his diaper in the hospital because I was scared I'd break him.  And now he has best friends, can add and subtract, read signs, write his name.  It's amazing.  I wish I could take all the credit for this amazing little person, but really I am just relieved I haven't broken him.  You know the old saying that God doesn't give you anything more than you can handle.  Well, I think the Big Guy knew exactly what he was doing when He chose my particular child.  He's never really been sick; in 6 years I've missed maybe 5 days of work due to his illnesses.  He's never had to go to ER (gosh don't let me jinx that).  His teachers have always loved him.  He is very social and makes friends easily.  He wakes up smiling (most of the time).  And he is just plain 'ol fun to be around. 

So here's to 6, little man.  Here's to new friends, new adventures, another milestone growth spurt (please slow down, please), and more fun than a mom deserves to have.

I love you.
Mama

The Closet Monster

I went to preschool on the east coast.  As an insecure child, I sucked my thumb all the time.  A lot of kids do, right?  So anyway, my preschool teacher did not approve of said thumb-sucking and let us all know that if she caught us sucking our thumbs, she'd cut them off with her knife.  I remember her showing us the knife and it was HUGE, but then again, I was 3 so it could have been a paring knife, but still!  And when we were naughty, we got put in the closet.  The dark closet where she told us there was a monster who lived.  Yikes!

I remember vividly one day when a little kid came to school with a band-aid on his thumb.  The teach asked him, "is where I cut your thumb off doing okay?"  I stopped sucking my thumb at school pronto.

I wonder what ever happened to that lovely woman?  She was obviously in her dream job, wrangling toddlers.  NOT.

Getting started

So here's the deal.  I've been wanting to start a blog/journal for a while now, but I'm basically lazy so I haven't.  But as I sit here alone in my kitchen, with the dogs lazing around me, the kid's clothes in the washer, and a Sunday stretched out before me with nothing to do until I pick said kid up from his asshat of a father, I thought to myself, "self, let's start that darn blog."  So here were are.

A bit about me to start (and I know I will be the only one to ever read this, but humor me here, okay?), I am a 42 year old divorced mother of one amazingly wonderful and talkative kindergartner. I have a wonderful career and am very blessed to have entered into a profession that has not been too hard hit by this recession.  I earn enough money to support my child and I, which is great since ass-hat doesn't pay child support.  I am surrounded by an amazing family and support group who all live within 20 minutes of us.

All of this makes my life sound so Nirvana-esque, doesn't it? But truth be told, I am miserable.  I am such a sad sack I'm amazed I get through each day.  And I have no reason to be this way, and because of that I can't figure out how to get out of this funk that has lasted now for years.  Lots and lots of years. Therapy doesn't help, drugs don't help.  So, I'm hoping that dumping my angst into the black hole of the internet will help me figure out what's wrong and get me back on the happy track to rainbows and butterflies.  Or at least to partly cloudy skies.

that's all for now.

Lisa