Stayed too long at the party

March 31, 2005 | Category: In My Life

I have a friend in trouble.

She is the most decent, honorable, and professional person I know. Her career is to help the most disadvantaged children in the state. Look in the newspaper - those horror stories that you read about children who have been found to be abused or neglected in the most heinous ways? That's when my friend's phone rings.

Unfortunately, her mentor and boss slowly lost his scruples along the way. And a sterling example of everything a private welfare agency should be was eaten away until only my friend was left to champion the ideals she still holds.

She knew something was going very wrong. Like a distant bell that would get loud and then fade again.

About 2 years ago the emergencies - no money for payroll, overdue audits - started coming every few months. She'd rally and rant until the boss would clean up everything. We, her friends, would cluck our tongues and suggest that maybe, just maybe, she ought to build an exit strategy.

And then, in the last year, the slippery slope got slicker. And she ended up taking out a bridge loan to keep things going for a while. But she soon realized it was irrevocably over.

Tearfully, she closed up shop and cobbled together care for the clients still in her agency's care. Meanwhile, her boss was hard to find and his stories harder to believe.

Her savings almost gone, her career in crisis. And then the letter arrived from the government, followed by meetings with lawyers and accountants.

And all because she stayed too long at the party. For all the right reasons. For the kids to whom she was the only consistent adult in their lives. For the kids who clung to her, in a sea of beaurocracy. She ignored that distant bell.

And it may end up bankrupting her and her future.

As we talked today, with tears in our voice as we tried to reasonably walk through best-case and worst-case scenarios, I couldn't help but see the parallels. Dressed up in neon and bouncing on that trampoline, I'm pretty sure the whole planet could see them.

"I don't want to admit..."

"It's OK."

"It's not the same."

"I know."

"I mean, we're talking about..."

"We're going to get through all this the best we can."

And I couldn't believe that she was comforting me at a time like this, selfish bitch that I must be.

She wanted to hear about the latest fight CD and I had, and how we're losing ground an inch at a time. It took her mind off the quarter million dollars in back corporate taxes and fines that she can't possibly pay and frankly shouldn't have to.

Then we cried some more, and yelled, and thought up fundraising ideas (would anyone pay to see me naked in a calendar?) and ridiculous notions (she is so NOT moving back in with her mom!).

And I love her. And she loves me. And we are messy, fallible women. Who stay too long at the party.

But for all the right reasons.

Exhibitionism

March 29, 2005 | Category: In My Life

*Turns out that Average Mom and I decided to write almost the exact same post. Only her first. And funnier. And a little more insightful. Heh.

Over Easter dinner, I was asked why I blog.

And the conversation careened and stuttered from there, as I felt compelled for some reason to explain all the good that has come out of my blogging.

But what about the drawbacks?

Have I turned myself into a soap opera?

The troubles finding a partnership that works for my marriage, the struggles in raising my only son, my windmill-tilting as a female in a strictly masculine corporate structure. My slow slide to what I am sure is a stress-induced nutty.

Why share all this?

Is it still a diary if you purposely share it with the world?

Or just expositional exhibitionism?

End of Innocence

March 28, 2005 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

Let's start with the good news. Because like last week's outfit, you have to hang your hat somewhere and I'm all about the silver lining.

The company was good, the egg hunt in the backyard a happy diversion and I didn't burn the ham. (Normally, we wouldn't worry about my ability to make a ham. I mean, HAM. Puh-lease. But on Saturday night I walloped a roast within an inch of its life and made very wet jerky so I skittered into Easter with a bit of a twitch and shake. Happily, all was well...)

The Menu:
Ham with cherry/orange Grand Marnier glaze
Scalloped potatoes
Mashed sweet potatoes
Asparagus with a citrus cream sauce
Stuffed tomatoes
Sweet baby peas
Homemade bread and fresh butter
Margarita Cheesecake
Chocolate Pudding Pie
Served with: Sangria, water and then coffee service.

Afterwards, we all went out for a waddle. We waddled up the block to the big park.

The playground structure was teeming with kids and parents, so my mom and Bear stopped there while the rest of us waddled the around the park.

By the time we got back, about 15 minutes later, my mother's face was a thundercloud.

Two brothers, aged about 8 and the other about 5, were bullying Bear.

The small one was calling Bear names to get him to chase him and then the big one would come up behind Bear and try to hurt him.

My mother saw what there were up to and stuck close. The small one didn't like that and kept telling my mother to go away and sit down. (How sick is that, telling the grown-up to go away so they could have my son all to themselves?) But even sticking close, her dogged interventions had little effect.

They didn't have any fear of her. They knew exactly how nasty they could be, where the line was. Thankfully, Bear grew pissed-off and marched away, telling them they weren't his friends and he didn't want to play with them.

Bear went off to sit at a picnic bench and he and my mom were sitting there as the rest of us came around the track.

The two boys didn't give up. They were still trying to engage Bear. We could see the little one running over to them, taunting Bear right in front of my mom's face. The big one stood watching from the jungle gym, and even I thought he was creepy and menacing. Such a little kid to have such a nasty expression.

Mom said it was like watching a sick kind of con act. You could tell that they had done this before, the little brother enticing the kids and the big brother hurting them.

As I approached, Bear got irritated and marched over to the where the bigger brother was at the top of a little ladder to confront him. The big brother started swinging his foot as my kid climbed, and you could see the "accidental" foot in my son's face coming.

I shouted, and jogged up. "Hey, big kid, it's time for my son to go home. Do me a favor and don't let him up there!" Big kid looked at me, the 4 adults behind me, and my mother approaching from the other direction, and stopped swinging his foot.

I grabbed my son under the arms and carried him right off the ladder and over to the path, where his dad and Godmother started tickling his exposed tummy. We headed home.

As we left the playground, Bear told us what happened. He told us about how the boys that they weren't his friends and he'd walked away from them.

"How do you feel?" I asked, after we all told him that walking away was the right thing to do.

"Good," Bear said.

We were reminded that in karate class, Bear has been taught how to deal with people who want to hurt him and he showed us how to break away and run somewhere safe and shout for help. That he knows there are bad people in the world.

The problem is that we never told him those bad people could be his own size.

Today, I have to sit down and warn his babysitter about those boys. My stomach hurts. I'm mad. I'm sad. My son is only 4 years old.

But yesterday signaled the beginning of the end of innocence.

How was the trip?

March 24, 2005 | Category: On The Job

Let's start with a recap of the outfit: black silk pants that swung when I walked, high-heeled black pumps, deep periwinkle silk sweater, and a black silk blazer that, I kid you not, looked nice but was maybe not worth the price equivalent to a month's rent in my last apartment.

I don't know what color my hair was, because I dyed it a couple of times this week. But the cut was sharp. Furthermore, I had BOTH my eyebrows - a huge improvement over my last 3 meetings, when I over-groomed in a fit of anxiety (my poor left eyebrow).

And I went lo-accessory. Just earrings and my "smart" glasses, the ones with the tortoise-shell rims that make me look like a naughty schoolteacher.

Normally, I don't talk fashion. I leave that to Kalisah (for good reason). But stick with me, I have a point.

I was late. I called and said I would be, because I was juggling other teleconferences.

Which was fine because things were delayed due to lack of a conference room.

We finally got settled, about a dozen of us. A whole bunch of engineers in khaki's and polo shirts and then myself and the two Directors in pseudo-suits (You know, it's "casual" if you just leave off the tie).

So we spent the morning with a guy droning on about spreadsheets. This is the program budget. This is the budget on Metamucil. This is the impossible situation we are left with. I was cast in the position of class clown, in that I had a handful of comments that could have been brutal but I couched them in humor.

Then we went to lunch. This big cafeteria place. The two directors gave me a ride over, and I sat with them (discovering later that the rest of the team all sat together by pushing together a few tables).

Director A was trying to convince Director B that B should take over so A could move to a different assignment.

I tried to talk about other things, like deadlines and organizational structure and the customer expectations. They shut me down and talked about places they've lived and where they are retiring to and how A wants off and how B kept saying no dice.

I was eating a Reuben sandwich with a knife and fork, because the thing was so big it spewed sauce every time I tried to bite it.

The afternoon was more of the same. I was beginning to feel like comic relief, because the team kept asking my opinion and I think it was just in desperation I would break up the monotony of the never-ending 78 Excel spreadsheets with something funny or acerbic.

Finally, the Droning Guy got to my area of expertise. He started saying that lots of money was going to be found using a new piece of WonderSoftware (WS) in a certain way.

"No, it's not," I said.

"And you know that because..."

"Because I just spent the last year implementing WS."

"At which account?"

"All of them."

So the guy went to his archives and pulled up a presentation on WS, because he was the kind of guy who had to prove everything. And sure enough, there was my name on the first slide at the top of the org chart.

"Oh," he said.

"Leave that up," I told him. I moved to the front of the room and walked through some of the slides, explaining that WS could help us find some savings, if we approached it thus and so.

By the time I sat down, I wasn't comic relief anymore. Thank heavens.

As we broke up, Director B asked me how I'd gotten the WS gig. "Really," he asked. "Great program."

So we finally had a real conversation. Then most everyone drifted away, but not before I handed out all my business cards and negotiated my stay in St Louis down from the whole summer to 4 weeks.

A couple of the engineers stuck with me, asking questions, as I slung my briefcase over my shoulder and walked to the exit. There was the mini van, waiting. Door opened, my son waving to me.

"Oh," said the first engineer. "Is that your family?"

"That's my life, " I corrected him. (I used to think to be successful, I had to deny that anything else in my life was as important as my career. Now I know better. Success has absolutely nothing to do with my career and everything to do with my life. )

As we drove to meet friends for dinner, I asked about CD and Bear's adventures exploring the city. Bear was very excited to tell me about something called the Monster Truck and about the science center and the hotel (Bear: I like that house!).

Then we talked about my day. After all that sound and fury.

I was like, meh. If I'd ended up with the director gig, I'd be knee-deep in the craps but the assignment I've negotiated, not so much. In fact, it's a half-step down for me in terms of difficulty and responsibility.

So CD and I talked about what we'll do now, and how long I could handle it if it converted to a work-from-home position (which I think I can pull off). I'm not excited, I'm not nervous. I'm .... nothing.

Yeah, after all that. I mean, I still want to quit. But otherwise?

Which is why I had to talk about the outfit? Because the outfit? Fantastic.

Life is a highway

March 22, 2005 | Category: In My Life

A couple of targets were hit in the last few days.

First of all, I finished writing a story. After umpteen years of starting and never finishing the Great American Novel (and coming to the conclusion that I just suck rocks at fiction), I had an idea and finished it. 135 pages, 10 chapters. Not quite a book. On an idea based on characters someone else created. Just to see if I could do it. And then I let some strangers read it and provide criticism and feedback. It was all very nervy of me, really. The response was kind, but I am not sure I will ever do it again. Just proud I did it this time.

I went clothes shopping, too. I hardly ever do this because I am overweight. Since becoming pregnant with Bear (and lying down for most of a year), I gained a LOT of weight. And I couldn't afford to. I had spent my adult life fighting chubbiness (although I was a skinny kid) so now I well and truly look like a weeble. I have 4 decent office outfits that I can mix and match, and none are great quality. I invest our clothing budget more in CD (he never asks, I just buy the stuff). He's always the same size and very well shaped and fun to dress. (ahem)

So for the past 3 days, the three of us have hauled ourselves through shoe stores and clothing stores. Trudge trudge trudge. Up to Lord & Taylor's and down to Talbot's. Yes, the upscale places do make clothes in my size (not that I'm saying what it is). I got black silk slacks and a silk blend black blazer. And a deep-blue short-sleeved silk sweater. (Silk, it was a theme.) Even bought high-heeled pumps, although God knows they don't slim me the way the magazines say. I think I look more like a bowling pin on sticks but I'm trying, and I think that's probably progress.

Got my hair done, and my nails, and some treatments on my face. Even bought some new makeup.

In short, I have done all those external things that I slowly have stopped doing for myself since Bear was born. Because after that, I stopped liking my reflection. That's it, I guess. And I realized last week with a start how bare my self-care regimen has become.

Not that I am going to throw myself back into the world of constant spa treatments and $50 underpants, but I decided that maybe I needed to stop martyring myself. No one is asking me too and it's not exactly making me a nicer person (or nicely dressed).

And, finally, I got myself somewhat of a demotion. Working for a conservative corporation the size of a small European country, executive positions are very hard to come by. Mega is not top-heavy by any stretch of the imagination. So this last assignment, which was Director-level responsibilities, was a pretty big "get" (which, of course, I was hiding from). Somehow last week I managed to downgrade my position in the program to Deputy Director.

I'm still not sure how I pulled it off. But after the initial 60 days this summer working on location, I have been told (since I'm only a Deputy type now) that my work schedule will be much more flexible. That sounds good, right?

After that, I sat CD down and told him that I did understand all his practical concerns (I make twice the money, am vested in both stock and retirement, have full benefits, etc.) I get that it makes no sense, none at all.

But if we are going to make it together, we need to find a way to make this happen no matter the sacrifices: Me as a full-time mom. For at least a year, soon.

I know that there are a lot of people in the world who would think that cutting our family's income by 2/3 is crazy and irresponsible, that there will be little financial security and a lot of sacrifices.

But I needed to say it - that this was the most important thing. And I needed him to hear it, and not just nod his head and walk away and another 6 months go by. One of my weakest traits is that I don't communicate my personal priorities well. The people I work with think I must be devastated that I got the Deputy assignment ('You were robbed!' said an IM I got).

Well, that's fine. But at home I needed to change tactics. I think it is possible that I never shouted loud enough to be heard before.

I have now.

Bulls-eye. I don't know what happens next. And maybe that's OK for right now.

So off I go, southbound for a few days to meet my team before kickoff. Wish me luck.

Post-Nuptials And Such

March 20, 2005 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

After such a dramatic week, it has been a very normal weekend. We've been cleaning, and shopping, and doing chores. CD and Bear have once again taken shovel and muscle to the tree stump on the edge of the driveway. And once again, they have turned back with that tree stump still firmly in the ground.

We figure it will take chains. And a 4X4. Maybe dynamite. Or a beaver.

I was up last night for a few hours, thinking.

It's difficult for me to think that somehow, the idea of a post-nup has demonized CD. I have done something, communicated something, wrong. And I don't know how to fix it.

My husband is not an American citizen. We did plan to sign a post-nup that had our agreement about Bear's nationality and raising in it.

We've both been exposed at what break-ups can do to children in multi-national relationships, so it just seemed like a reasonable thing to do. We just never followed through. It's hung on the to-do list for years.

In the shifting landscape of our marriage, we've said and done things we both regret. But we've always come back to our senses quickly. Even if we couldn't solve the problem, we found a way to be kind to each other.

But what if we couldn't?

So we thought about and agreed that Bear would have both his parents within a 50 mile radius. And be raised in America unless we both agreed otherwise. But be a citizen of both countries, and be exposed to both languages and customs.

We just never wrote it down.

Is it coming up now because things are rough? Yeah.

Is it coming up now because CD imagined a worst-case scenario and it scared him? Yeah.

Do I wish things were better between us? Hell, yeah.

I do, with all my heart.

I knew a guy once. Gorgeous. Charismatic. Successful. Promiscous. Always wore a condom. Always.

"Elizabeth," he once told me over lunch (just as friends. I knew better.) "You'd be amazed how many women try and convince me it's not necessary. Daft. Maybe crafty. I actually left an apartment once because she insisted we leave it off. No doing."

I never understand those women either. Protection in and of itself should never insinuate there's something irreedemably wrong. Sometimes all it means is: 'just in case'.

This piece of paper doesn't make CD a bad guy. I do not, in any way, resent him for asking for it. It was my idea in the first place, all those years ago.

Sure, I get mad at CD for many reasons. But not that he asked that we execute the post-nup before I take his son 4 hours away for a couple of months.

I can't imagine why I would say no.

So I was up for a few hours last night. Wondering if maybe I complained too much. Vented too hard. And I don't know what to do. I feel bad that anyone would think I was sleeping with the enemy. It's not how I feel. Isolated, angry, tearful? Yes. Pushed to the edge of the cliff and looking down sometimes? Yes. Scared? Yes, Yes. Uncertain, sad? Yes, again.

But no, not given up. No.

*sigh*

Headline: Not breaking up

March 18, 2005 | Category: In My Life

Note to self: Honeypie, until you find your freaking brain again, stop making blog posts and then, you know, POSTING them. It just leads to editing, re-editing, and apologies. Time to sit quietly with your words and have a nice glass of chianti, mkay?

I want - must - say thanks. I am more misty-eyed than you know that there is a whole bunch of people, non-strangers, who have showered kindness at a difficult time.

I know my situation, although it has me in considerable pain, is nothing against the real hurts in the world. My life is full of blessings - a healthy family, a good job, and a home in a safe and pleasant neighborhood.

But such compassion, despite this. Each and every one of you is my favorite person in the blogisphere.

To answer the big question. We are not filing for divorce.

I need a lawyer because we've decided to write down a post-nuptial agreement that, if nothing else, will make a legal promise that in taking Bear to St Louis for the summer, I promise to bring him back.

All things considered, it is a fair and reasonable thing to do. Many movies of the week say so.

Don't knock movies of the week; they also drove home the importance of condoms, cell-phones, and a good hair stylist.

Need a Lawyer

| Category: Family, It's a Trip

Hi, does anyone know a good family lawyer in the Chicago area?

I need someone competent and reasonable.

Please email me if you have any recommendations, thanks!

He needs us both

March 17, 2005 | Category:

Just to be absolutely clear.

CD informed me weeks ago that going forward, his job will demand travel. Since we live 900 miles from the closest family member, and because I go apeshit when separated from my kid for long periods, and because it was one of the options - I looked into how I could take care of Bear and still do my job.

It was never, ever my intention with any bone in my body to take Bear away from his Daddy. I would never, ever do anything like that. This is an impossible situation all the way around and I am just trying to figure out the least-bad solution.

I stand by this.

What Project Managers Do

March 16, 2005 | Category: In My Life

So, first off let me say HAPPY BIRTHDAY LAURA!!!! You insanely beautiful and creative person, you! (How do you keep getting better all the time?)

Secondly, let me say: Thank you. I will respond to everyone who has commented. I try to do that anyway, but right now the love and support is overwhelming and healing and I can't begin to express my gratitude.

Thirdly, let me say: I had to edit my entry. I broke a promise and I feel bad. It was wrong of me to reveal what I did without the someone else's consent.

Forthly, and is that a word?: So I have plans in place now. I spoke to our bookkeeper and my boss and made about a bazillion calls. I will need a lawyer to help put some things down on paper, but otherwise it looks good.

Door #1: If it is St Louis, then I talked to the Admissions Director of an outstanding Montessori there and he's got a place in their summer program. I'm not saying that it would be the world's most fun summer, living in a Hotel. But we could make it QUITE the adventure and still find fireflies to catch and still drive home to Chicago on weekends.

DOOR #2: If it is the suburbs, then I will take Bear to work with me. There's a Montessori near (minutes!) away from the client site.

What happens after the summer is still a big dark blank, but then again - this is what Project Managers do. If there is anything I can do well then it is this - plan, manage, adjust, assess risk, balance the budget, and plan.

But just so we're clear, I would much rather be good at play-doh, treasure hunts, homemade cookies, flashcards, and lego's.

Meanwhile, I'll find out more tomorrow.

Dreams go poof, like tissues

| Category: In My Life

Note: I had to go back and edit this entry. Because I did agree that I would not discuss CD's medical issues, treatment, our marital issues, treatment, or 'what happened' openly in this forum. And I broke that agreement. I was wrong. - C.M.

When we decided to become parents together, we decided that one of us would always be home with our child. It was something I felt strongly in my bones, no judgement on how anyone else does things.

We both had good jobs, either salary would do, so I stayed home.

But it didn't last.

Now there are 18 months between now and Bear going to Kindegarten. And my job pushing (hard!) for me to step up with a new level of commitment that I just don't want to give. I've been dreaming of being home, being this kid's mom. This last big chunk of time before school starts.

But that expectation is a lot. No matter how I would have structured it - what package or part-time job, it still would have made CD's job the prime income.

Clearly that was too much expectation. And I ranted and I raved, but really that was for my own benefit. Because this dream of mine is just not going to become real.

And as I sit here, trying not to cry like a big wuss, I realize that I truly don't know what to do next. I have held on to this dream being just around the corner for so long, that I never really thought about what the alternative would be. Expecially an alternative that keeps me away from my son for 12 hours a day.

I know I'm an idiot. But with our our earning power, I've really just thought me quitting was always - "just as soon as..."

I've got to take Bear to preschool now. And then come home and get to work. Yes, of course this is what millions of people do every day and I know that I'm not special and all this is like so much wet tissue disintegrating in a puddle somewhere.

It'll just take some time. That's all. And then it'll be just fine.

And the wheels on the bus

March 15, 2005 | Category:

What happened today?

Got my new assignment, no choices. Big emergency, they need a "powerhouse" to go fix a high profile program for the next year.

And?

I'll have to work on the client site, a 3 hour commute a day, at best. Going to have to put Bear in daycare or ...

Or?

Thought, maybe I had options. Maybe this was a sign that it really was time to quit or at least take a long leave of absence.

And the wheels on the bus...

But that would have meant that he'd have to...

He won't.

...Go round and round...

What now?

What do you think of selling the house, after the school year is over? Find something closer to this assignment so I don't have to sacrifice being a parent completely...

...Go round and round...

What about....

I really can't talk about it.

...Round and round...

Why did you expect this time would be different? Honey, why? You just set yourself up to hurt when you go counting on -

Please. It's hard enough feeling like a fool in this rut. Knowing that I'm the Charlie Brown in this little play, always hoping that this time Lucy won't pull the ball.

Lucy always pulls the ball.

I remember, when it was the moon and the stars and...

Are you gonna be OK?

I dunno. Some days, I wonder if I've already cracked. Am I the last to know?

...Round and round. The wheels on the bus go...

A Random Day

March 14, 2005 | Category:

I'm a fricking Chatty Cathy doll today. (No disrespect to anyone named Cathy, y'all).

3 posts. Maybe more. Who knows.

My phone hasn't rang once all day. I have 3 weeks left to hand off this program, and a pile of work in my inbox that would make you weep. Normally, my ADD self would get it done by putting my head down and plowing through for an hour or so and then pausing to answer calls, attend meetings, etc. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Except, no calls. No meetings. This is a pause before the storm, but still - my head may just explode. Except for periodic trips for more TUMS to settle my queasy stomach (stress, not Corporate Mommy Jr.), I would be going nutty.

As it is, my day has become a scattered mosaic of visions and tastes, stuffed between hours of adjusting budgets out to fiscal '07 based on updated project plans and levelled forecasts.

Picking up Bear from pre-school this morning, I passed by a High School. The sidewalks were teeming with kids out on lunch break.

I saw a young couple. She was in a pink sweater and a sensible hairstyle. He was tall and handsome, with an arm slung around her shoulder.

At the intersection, she had a small smile and finished whatever she was saying. He nodded in agreement, then closed his eyes and kissed the top of her head for a long time. With his arm he held her tight. She bowed her head a little, into the embrace. Then the light changed, and I had to drive away.

The vision stayed with me for a long time. To be young, and so in love.

Back home again, Bear is crawling around the house pretending to be a cat. The babysitter is following him with a pillow, so when his knees hurt from the wood floor, he can rest on something soft. It is good to be the little King, don't let anyone tell you different.

Myself, I decided on just some broth for lunch to see how that would go down. The first little cup did OK.

In honor of our upcoming dinner at Benihana's, I made myself some of their famous starter soup out of the remaining bowlful of broth - mushrooms sliced so thin you can see through them, finely chopped scallions, a few pieces of fried onion, a few other herbs and spices (with a very light hand).

Ate it slowly, and feel about 50% better.

Tonight I was going to make lean filets with a red wine mushroom reduction and steamed veggies but I am rethinking that whole menu.

The sky is gray and it is time to go back to work. I have miles to go before I rest. Miles.

And for now, I am walking them alone.

Bubba

| Category:

This story by Jay got me to remembering our own little run-in with Bubba many years ago.

You gotta remember - CD is a big guy. Not overweight, but tall and very broad-shouldered. He's got a jagged scar down his left cheek from a bar fight when he was 15 (or so the story goes) and his eyes don't naturally smile (unless he's looking at our son).

So it was a rainy rush-hour night, and we were riding in the van somewhere not quite downtown but still in the city.

At an intersection, our light turned green but CD was still kinda new to Chicago and didn't realize that a whole boat-load of people turning left still thought they had the right of way.

So he hit the gas and started driving straight through.

*Wham!*

We were clipped.

Next thing you know, we're all pulling over to the side of the road. The car that hit us was like a clown car full of Bubbas. Short Bubba, Tall beefy Bubba, and even a roly-poly-little Bubba who looked like he was ready to throw a punch at the first thing he saw.

CD ordered me to stay in the van and lock the doors. Then he got out. I thought this was a terrible idea and told him so, but he was already gone.

He approached them, and asked for the driver's license and insurance card.

Then the screaming began. The posturing. And the threats and accusations. Three of them facing down CD.

CD crossed his arms and just stared at the driver. Repeated his request.

They kept shouting. Rattlers in my stomach as I imagined my guy laid out in a pool of blood.

CD just stood there, arms crossed.

A couple of minutes later, Bubba-the-driver leaves his Bubba-buddies behind and races back to the car. After a tense moment, he returned - with his license and insurance card.

Next thing you know, the information had been exchanged and DriverBubba had apologized for the whole thing. CD shook his hand, and we were on our way.

CD later told me that he got out of the van for the same reason Jay did - because otherwise that little mob would have approached us and he didn't want me at risk.

And no, Bear wasn't conceived that night. But not for lack of trying.

Enough

| Category:

I couldn't get to sleep last night.

I laid in bed, and did that thing that I do to fall alseep.

I imagined having enough.

It used to be that I would imagine winning the lottery. But at some point in my life it occured to me that since I don't play the lottery, I will never win it. And my logical brain rebelled.

So now I imagine 'enough'.

In my 'enough' fantasy, I am home taking care of my son. I am his primary caregiver. But we can still afford the Montessori school.

In my 'enough' fantasy, we have time. All the time for me to be, as Anna calls it, 'the water to his sponge'. Bear and I do all those crafts, we learn to cook together, we talk about why the sky is blue at the Science Museum instead of in a rushed conversation between points "a" and "b".

In my 'enough' fantasy, there's enough left between CD and I to build this amazing, generative relationship. The kind I used to think we had. The kind where we once again spend long road trips arguing religion and politics at turns serious and others, laughing.

In my 'enough' fantasy, there are some decent contractors in our county - and we find them. And little by little the electricity and the plumbing are brought up to date. The stairs to the second floor are put in. And before Bear is too much older, we have enough room for us all in our formerly tiny bungalow.

In my 'enough' fantasy, there's health and energy to do most of the things I mean to do in a day. The time with Bear and CD, the workouts, and the errands, the writing, and the classes I am still eager to take.

Enough looks different to everyone. What's your 'enough'?

(And yes, I slept like a log)

Shut Up Already

March 10, 2005 | Category:

I absolutely hate whining. Especially when it is ME doing it.

So now that I have it out of my sytem, I will throw myself on the mercy of the blogisphere and say: I'm sorry. I know in the grand scheme of things that I am blessed and lucky. And I will shut up already.

Meanwhile.....

Back in California. Michael Jackson showed up to court in his jammies. You know, because he wasn't already wierd enough.

This guy cut off and ate his own penis. Which is a whole new subcategory of wierd.

And this guy was SHOT by his cat. Which begs the question: what was he cooking with a loaded handgun? Pissed off lobster?

(Tomorrow on Jerry Springer: When good pets go bad!)

Could you move the fire?

March 09, 2005 | Category:

On a camping vacation to Door County years and years ago, my traveling companion and I met up with the nicest guy.

We got to talking, as you will. And he revealed that he had recently been divorced. Oh, how painful.

When he'd dated his ex, she'd been an active woman. Always working out, going to games of some kind, long bike rides.

As a tour guide for adventure trips, this was an important requirement. They fell in love. Married. And shortly after, she actually went on one of his trips.

It was late, that first night. She'd already been to bed. He was still up. Then she peeked her head of the tent and called to her new husband - "Honey, I'm hot. Could you move the fire?"

Except, uh. She was serious.

The logistics of moving a campfire aside, the question arose: Didn't you know? Didn't you see that she wasn't exactly a Girl Scout?

The answer is an emphatic NO.

When I met CD, you would not know him from the man I am married to today. The inside has completely rearranged.

I was thinking about that this evening when I was reading about Emily's plight. Her ex-husband has hi-jacked her kids for the night.

This is an escalation of his behavior since she asked for a divorce. Using any ambiguity and loophole to punish her and the kids. Like forcing complete obedience from children he wholehearted supported in Attachment Parenting prior to the breakup.

It would be so easy to wonder, didn't she know he would be like this when she dated him? Weren't there signs?

Humans don't like chaos. We like reasons and predictability. If we blame the victims, then somehow we empower them to have made different choices. It makes us feel like we have power to never become victims ourselves.

Which is just bullshit, isn't it?

Yeah OK. Some of us have too many stars in our eyes. We see what we want to see in the gaps of our reality. We jump to conclusions, or misunderstand.

But the truth is that people (me included) do reveal themselves in careful doses and evolve in unexpected ways.

Sometimes that is a grand recipe for two people to share a life discovering and rediscovering each other.

Sometimes that is a brutal recipe for a night spent in tears, wondering if your children are all right with the man you chose to be their father.

And sometimes that is a quick trip to the disposal so you can start all over again. With someone who understands the concept of a campfire.

What was lost

March 08, 2005 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

RP, another MuNu blogger, has 2 amazing children - a girl and a boy. The girl is a little older, although they are close in age. They are close, period. Recently, he posted about how they hold hands in the car. Now he has a picture up.

I think about how my little brother and I weren't always close, but how we used to hold hands in the night when we were afraid. He would slip into my room in the dark, and sit on the floor by my bed, and reach up with his hand.

God, I miss the us we used to be.

Bear wants a sibling so desperately that it hurts. He turns friends into sisters and brothers. He begs for us to give him a baby to love.

I wish we had.

Somedays I feel like I have failed him in every part of my being by consigning him to life as an only child.

All Aboard the Clue Train

March 02, 2005 | Category: Mother to the First Power

So, Bear is now an Orange Belt in his young kids martial arts program.

He tested last Saturday (his kicks are more like hops, but hey - he's 4) and afterwards, the tester asked who would like to be promoted to orange belts. Bear shot his arm up and bounced, his little body tight as a drum with excitement.

When the tester told him to come to the front and get his new belt, I just about burst into tears with happiness for him.

No, wait. I DID burst into tears.

So, about last night.

Normally, CD takes Bear to class twice a week. Last night I did it because he was running late.

I thought it would be like it had been on Saturday, all the parents cheering for all the kids. After all, you have never seen a more egalitarian or cheerful dojo in all your life.

The instructors are every color, gender, and age. The teaching approach, while grounded in respect and tradition, just oozes kindness and support. The kids LOVE this place, it is bright and happy. They line up early and press their faces against the glass wall that divides the spectators from the mats.

Was I ever an ignoramous. So totally missed the clue train that I think I was in the wrong station.

The mother next to me asked which one was "mine" and I pointed out Bear. (He's easy to spot - being the youngest one and, oh yeah, that BRIGHT ORANGE HAIR.) She pointed out "hers", a big girl who she said was 7 years old.

She then spent the next 40 minutes telling me what Bear (and everyone else) was doing wrong. And what her daughter was doing right.

The father on my left pointed out his son. He had 2 little girls squirming on his lap, but in his free seconds he provided me with color counter-commentary to the woman on my right.

The lady standing behind me started to chime in. Her daughter has been doing martial arts for a year now, and so obviously she was an expert. She raised the bar by telling us what the teachers were doing wrong.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

I burst.

When the first woman informed me that Bear's feet weren't parallel, I interrupted her.

"I don't care," I said, cutting her off.

"Well, you see..."

" I. Don't. Care." I repeated.

"You will when he falls down in competition..."

I refused to respond.

"That's your son?" Lady #2 asked me. "Why is he always raising his hand?"

"He likes to be called on, is my guess," I answered.

"Well..."

"Is that your son?" Lady #1 asked right over my lap to the man on the other side. "He would be a good sparring partner for her son," she indicated me.

"OK," I interrupted. Again. "Look. No offence meant but I'm just here to watch my son. And he's just here to work off some energy and have fun."

Silence. Ahhhhh.

Then. Behind me. Lady #2 to Lady #1. Sotto voce; "She'll learn."