DoozieLife

What is spam? Well, it could be a really weird canned mean product loved by the citizens of Hawaii… or it could be all the comments coming to my blog from people promoting sex sites, viagra, wow leveling, and any other manner of useless attempts to create backlinks with my blog. Spam could also define my mood, my state of mind… a kind of useless (but versatile) mush contained within a hardened shell, disguised by bright, distracting colors. Look at the outside and you have no clue what lies within.

This week, I returned to my job. Not my everyday, raising children, trying to keep the house from being absolutely disgusting and all the pets fed and alive for another day job.. but my real, income producing, thought required job. I am , and guess I always will be, a graphic designer. So, it was back to my local print shop that I went this week, back to deadlines, clueless customers and my bosses, who I have known forever. It feels good to be working again, pay cut notwithstanding. It feels good to provide a positive example for my children, and it feels good to get out of the house.

This week will also mark a new stage for Rachels dad. For the near future, he will be her caretaker during the day. This means he will watch her when I am at work, basically from 9 till 3, until the older kids get home, and maybe 9 to noon on Fridays, on the weekends when he heads out of town. It works out, hopefully my daughter will get a little extra income, and for my son, I will show my appreciation with stuff like movie tickets. For Rachel, it means she gets to see her dad about 30 – 35 hours a week, which is a lot more than some kids get. Probably more time than she has spent with him in the past six months, because I won’t be here for her to cling to. Today was the first real day I was gone, and her sister watched her most of the day. Aside from a multitude of poopy diapers, it all went well.

This Sunday, Bill, Rachel and I tried to go out to dinner, so he could see the baby after being out of town for the weekend. I didn’t handle it very gracefully. I wanted to go, but then again I was uncomfortable. Being unsure of my role made me very short, and snippy, and confused about how I should behave. It felt weird because we went to the one restaurant that has always seemed like a date restaurant for us, and it was memory and emotion laden for me. So what did I do? Shut down, when i should hav ebeen engaging in every moment. I have to learn to just appreciate the time he spends with me as a friend, rein in my emotions and just be grateful that we are able to attempt to make something of our relationship/friendship and our family. Because I was not very nice, IMHO, I have invited him out this weekend if he is in town (yea, it hurts to say that, I don’t want him to be out of town), but anyways, if he is around (crossing my fingers, damn it, I miss the S.O.B.), I want to try again, show that I can be mature and play nice, and not just be a pouty, jealous bitch. If I can’t get myself under control, I do not stand a snowballs chance in hell of getting my family back together again.

Since Bill moved out, we have made some changes. I have two little monkeys sleepin’ in my bed now. I moved my 7 year old into my room, and now he and Rachel are both going to sleep at a normal time, and Rachel is even going to bed without me being in bed with her. She is also sleeping the whole night though, not getting woken up, and then wanting to nurse. This has been a godsend, as I have been getting up earlier lately, trying to complete a rush job for work. Other plans in the works are downsizing the pet department. Since our poor Max died, my daughters boyfriend has suggested she take Mickey, my chihuahua. He really likes the dog, Mickey would make a great apartment pet, and my daughters cat really needs to find a home with more room. I also have decided to sell Charlie, my Schitz Tzu. He is a sweet, good natured dog, but he needs supervision during the day in order to stay inside, and with me not here, he can’t get it. So, he is relegated to being an outside dog, and the breed is just not well suited to that, He gets dirty, and matted, and is a bitch to get clean. It also is just not in the single mom budget to keep him groomed. My son and his girlfriend plan to take Casey, our Pit Mix, when they move out this summer. So, that will leave me with just our rat Melma and hermit crabs Eww and Scabby. I probably should have done this a long time ago, the dogs were just another wedge that widened the split in the relationship between Bill and me. Again, too little, too late.

So, a lot going on. Adjusting to work, adjusting to work, appreciating the calmness, wondering how to keep that calmness if I ever get my relationship back together. Maintaining hope… it’s not easy, but I so want to raise my daughter with her father, not just become yet another set of alternating parents.

So, some weeks turn into slow motion.  Each day becomes a blur of worry and exhaustion.  This week, with my daughter in the hospital, and my relationship going into its last tortuous week of “ending,” I have had all I can take.  Food tastes like crap, sleep taunts me all night, remaining just out of grasp.  Every time I feel I am getting a little of my emotional strength back, something happens and it gets kicked back down my throat. If I didn’t know myself, I would describe myself as bi-polar, so crazy off track my emotions have been.  I know better, I have been through worse, but it is hard to remember that sometimes.

Last night was sleepless… I tossed and turned all night, finally giving up and reading into the early morning hours.  I finally fell asleep, and managed about an hour and a half before my son bursts in, saying something is wrong with our cat, Max.  Dear Max, a faithful giver of toe lickings, bird offerings, and unconditional love for the last 14 years, was lying by our steps with blood oozing from her mouth.  As I went to pick her up and heard her cries of pain, I knew it was the end.  I wrapped her in her blanket and I pet her for a bit, and her ears went forward and I heard her struggle to purr.  Kedrick went out and said goodbye, and I took her down to the Dr, so she could go to sleep in peace.  I cried all the way, cried as I filled out the paperwork.

Later, UCSF called.  My daughter was in recovery and wanted to say hi.  As we talked, she heard the strain in my voice and had to tell her what happened.  Again I cried, at the checkout in WalMart, tears rolling down my cheeks.  It wasn’t just Max, but losing her just tipped the scales.  I come home, and my dear son Ian pulled me into his arms and let me cry it all out.  He took Kedrick to the movies so I could decompress, and then afterwards we all went out into the sun to turn the day around.  Ian and his girlfriend played football with Kedrick and Rachel, while I washed and butchered our Shitz Tzu.  Rachel eventually discovered the flower beds and I decided, “What the heck, have a ball baby.”  After a bath and dinner, she is snoozing in my arms.

Here is part of how I celebrated my life today.  I had my hands full of wet, wriggling, fur flying Shitz Tzu or would have loved to get picturs of the kids playing football today,  However, with Rachel adding the word football into her vocabulary, I am sure we have much more to look forward to.

We all know and love classic blog memes such as “Not Me Monday” and “Wordless Wednesday.”  These awesome memes belong to some of the most talented mom bloggers I read and have taken on a life of their own.  I was driving home from the Children’s Hospital in San Francisco Tuesday night, about 11:45, and I decided I needed to clear my mind of all the crap that was going through my mind, and all the mistakes I had made that week.  So this is why I am taking Tuesday’s to say goodbye to all the residue of the week before.  I think we all have negativity that we need to air, I know for sure I am not perfect and I make mistakes, but I do not want them to cloud the rest of my week, I want to move forward and think positively, with a head and heart free of clutter.

As I drove home Tuesday, I had a good two hours to hash out my week.  I had a lot of guilt.  Guilt because I feel like I have hurt Troll Baby’s dad deeply, and I never wanted to.  Guilt because I wouldn’t let my daughter come watch the Super Bowl because we were keeping the house low key.  Guilt because I hadn’t had my seven year old home in a week, because with all the conflict and tension, he was better off not staying in his own home.  Guilt about the frustration I felt the day my son called for a ride home from school because his knees were hurting, and he needed to stretch them out and ice them.  Of course, the big picture is, my son chose to stop smoking medical marijuana for his pain, and we don’t have a pain management plan in place, so he is hurting.  Wednesday morning, I look at his progress report and he is doing awesome.  I am so proud of him, it’s the big picture that counts.  There was a lot of guilt this week for opening my mouth without thinking first.  I had guilt about making my daughter cry when she called me saying UCSF wanted her to go to the hospital that night.  I wasn’t frustrated with her, it was overwhelming exhaustion after a long emotional conversation with Troll Baby’s dad mixed with concern about her,  and should she take my car, or should I drive her topped with “What am I supposed to do with the baby?” until I was able to take a deep breath and call her back, having worked out the logistics.

Besides guilt this week, I had a lot of anger.  I spent probably the first half of the drive planning retribution against our local hospital, for just ignoring her condition and letting it get to the point where I was driving 4 hours round trip in the middle of the night.  Anger at the ER doctor who sent her home the Friday of a 3 day weekend, with a distended gallbladder, high white blood cell count and a diagnosed UTI.  A doctor who did not take the time to read the ultrasound report, who chose not to administer antibiotics while she was in the ER, and sent her home without a prescription.  Anger when she has to return to the ER the following week because she still is symptomatic with abdominal pain and nausea, and the ER doc says they have no GI docs on call, and that she should just call San Francisco because there wasn’t a GI doctor in town that would touch her.  I also had a lot of anger about how events are tearing my family apart, and I just didn’t have anywhere to channel that anger, so I just had to bottle it up.

Last week, I had a lot of poor parenting days.  In addition to abandoning my son to his dads for the week, I was frazzled and couldn’t seem to accomplish anything.  Troll Baby ran out of pajamas, and instead of doing laundry I put her to bed in tights and a t-shirt for 3 nights.  Its not that what she wore to bed was dirty or didn’t work, because she was warm and comfy and it really did look cute.  It was that there was no reason my child should not have her pajamas washed for bed.  I also just now realized that since my little guy was gone all week, no one bought him valentine’s to pass out at the party.  He is sitting here assuring me that it didn’t matter, that everyone got plenty of valentine’s, and he has a special girl he asked to be his valentine.  I guess that the big picture is, his valentine party at school was still pretty good.  It just sucks that I missed out on helping make it more special.

So this is my new meme, Goodbye Doozie Tuesday.  All this is behind me, the slate is washed clean, I accept that I am allowed to be imperfect, and tomorrow is a new day.

FYI – I am bleepin tired, so my Mr. Linky will have to be set up next week , in case anyone else wants to clear their slate.

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I am a writer, writing my life as it happens.  My mode of writing is this blog.  It is real life, written as it happens.  When you write, this is called transparency – in other words you aren’t hiding behind a shield of made up bull, pretending life is all perfect, or exaggerating how bad it is – you just write it as it happens.  Bloggers must walk a fine line when it comes to documenting reality, because it isn’t just your life you are putting out there.  Every day has meaning, every day I have interactions with family members and friends.  These interactions are what shape me, they are the highs and lows that find their way onto these pages.  I try my best to remember to use code names so that I am not exposing my subjects to the scrutiny of the general public.  I think I do a pretty good job.  However, when you write about your personal life, those who are involved can decode your writing and see clearly when they are your chosen material.  One blogger that inspires me is writing about how she was a closet alcoholic – the perfect mom and wife on the outside, dieng to get that first drink of the day on the inside.  She is living out her acknowledgement of her alcoholism, and her daily battle to fight the disease, at http://theextraordinaryordinary.blogspot.com/.   I hope I can tell my story with the openness and dignity with which she is telling hers.

This week has been full of ups and downs.  The ups have been helping my son buy his first truck, and enjoying having him become more involved with school and with me.  Another exciting plus was a good visit with my daughter’s GI surgeon, and finding out that it is a go to have the final surgery to get rid of her ileostomy. The downs are the continued weirdness of a relationship that is no more, but has the main characters continuing to co-habitate.  It is hard to try and maintain a daily routine, when my mind is all a jumble.  It is also hard to keep an even keel with my attitude, when everyone is angry and resentful, as much as we all try and fake it to get by.  I find that every day the thin veneer I have coated myself in is growing thinner, and it is harder to not be angry at nothing.

In between the ups and downs are the just plain “awkwards.”  Last weekend, I took Troll Baby to see her aunties and cousins at her cousins first birthday party.  Her dad had other plans and was unable to attend.  Half the people at the party (who are all family of Troll Baby’s dad)  have no idea that we are no longer together.  To avoid awkwardness, the aunts and I just pretended.  The people I hadn’t met, they introduced me to as his girlfriend.  I guess that is better than be introduced as “B’s” Baby Mama.  When people asked why he didn’t come, I just bit my tongue and mumbled an excuse.  I was glad I went, Troll Baby had fun and so did my seven year old, and Troll Baby’s aunties made me feel like I am still family.  And yet, it was awkward.

This weekend, Troll Baby’s dad is recovering from a voluntary procedure.  This leaves me in the role of caregiver, and as a friend I am happy to do it.  Yet, it sets my teeth on edge.  Why do it now, weeks before you move out?  Just so you have someone to take care of you?  Then I think, “Are you retarded Michelle?  Of course he wouldn’t think like that, he’s a guy, he just didn’t think.”  So for the past two weekends, he has gone off to enjoy himself, and this weekend I get to take care of him, and next weekend is Valentine’s and I am just trying desperately to think of somewhere to take the little kids so I can pretend I am not a single mom whose life currently sucks.

So next Sunday, weather willing, I think I will find a beach.  Not sure what beach, just a beach where a single mom can go and hear her kids laughter, hoping it drowns out the sound of failure that rings in her head.  If I get lucky, maybe those beautiful children will heal a little piece of my heart while they are at it.

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I Cry Over Spilled Milk

It never fails.  As much as I ride the kids about not eating when they use the computer, invariably I am the one who gets bit in the as when I ignores my own rules.  Today, in a desperate effort to remain productive while feeding Troll Baby, I decided to have her sit with me on the couch while I fed her breakfast.  I guess she was a bit angry at my divided attention, so she sent the bowl of cheerios flying, right onto my new net book that was sitting on the ottoman.  Shit.  I Quickly turned the net book upside down in a kind of pup tent configuration, and turned to deal with the Troll.  Timeout.  While she sat in her timeout spot, wailing in true Troll fashion, I attempted the clean the keyboard.  As you can see, aside from a tendency to be a bit… sluggish, my keys are working fine.  Umm, I still have issues with “D” so forgive me if I refer to someone as a dipshit an it comes out as an ipshit.

Later, I decided to download some trial software, and ended up with a nifty little virus that disguised itself as part of Windows Security Center.  By the time I clicked on it and saw the words “Trial Version,” I knew it was too late.  A wonderful little nasty called Malware Defender had invaded my computer.  A rogue anti-spyware application, it prevented access the internet, so I couldn’t even download my software of choice, Malwarebytes’ Anti-Malware.  Luckily, I was able to log on to our other computer, and download it onto a USB drive, then install it on the net book.  Bleh.  What a pain in the ass.  I despise you hacker people who have nothing better to do than ruin the days of moms like me.

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