What Nathan Said Tonight:

"Mom, I'm really nervous about school. Will it be hard? Will the teacher be nice? Will she show me what to do? I hope I get a Black teacher. Will the principal be nice?"

Wait a minute! Whoa there! Hang on a second! What?? Black teacher? What??

"I don't want a White one. I want a Black one."

But, but....?!? Why? You had an Asian teacher last year? A White one the year before? It doesn't matter what color a teacher is!!!

"Yes, but that was when I was a baby. I want a Black one."

I have no idea. Maybe it's something to do with his sitter for the past four years, who he was absolutely attached to - (who he is pining after) who is from St. Vincent?

But heck, man ... the things that come from their mouths.... you can't make this stuff up.

And I know. I have to write about the Weekend Of The Dogs. (They're still here. X supposed to pick them up around 11 tonight. J telling me I"m crazy that he won't pick them up. Me telling J that if X does not pick them up tonight X will no longer have a life worth living.)

You know... they are very good dogs. Very smart. Very sweet. Great with kids (and you should see what my kids have been doing to them!) but... they are TWO PUPPIES! What?!?! Was I crazy?!?!? (And to answer the question as to "Why I did this...?" I did it - for the kids who love them, for me who loves dogs [no longer!], and for the concept.... all of us here...w/the dogs... won't it be fun? What a fun adventure! Next time - remind me about this.)

They jumped over the gate (had them gated in the kitchen when we went out. X said they do this all the time. He didn't tell me they could jump the gate. Max told me later "Oh, they do that all the time." They chewed a hole into new comforter. Pulled out stuffing. (And Hooray! X will give me money for new one!! I liked the comforter/bedding set - bday/chanukah present from my parents -- but it had to be DRY CLEANED each time it got dirty. Who gets a dry clean only comforter for a parent w/two young kids?!? So, now I can get a new one! (Insert smug grin.)

And, the absolute best part was waking every morning to a kitchen filled with pooh and pee... because being walked three times a day was not enough for these little crap machines...

Bah! I'll post photos and write about some of the good stuff too. Promise.

Confronting Syphilis, Quite Candidly - New York Times

Yeah. She's a friend of mine. :)

Confronting Syphilis, Quite Candidly - New York Times

What. A. Mistake.

Right. so. X asked me to take his two dogs, Bill and Mickey, for Labor Day Weekend. Now, where I come from, Labor day weekend is Friday to Monday. Right? Yeah, well - x's trip start's tomorrow morning, so the dogs came over tonight. X forgot to tell me. Sprung it on me a week or two ago. "Oh yeah, not bringing the dogs over on Friday - bringing them on Wednesday."

Some might wonder (as I do) why I took them. I took them because my boys lovelovelove these dogs. They talk about them all the time, they love to go to X's to see them (oh, and X too...). The dogs actually belong to X's girlfriend & I told X that if they ever split up the boys need to have visitation with the dogs. They would he heartbroken if they never saw them again.

Have I mentioned that this is a pet free building?

And no, I don't know why the formatting is like this. I've given up with blogger and photos.

ANYHOW.

Mickey is about 8 months old, and Bill about a year. They're puppies. They have boundless energy. It's like having two more kids here. Now I'm sure you read in my previous post how sometimes it gets to be a bit much to be a single parent with two boys. Ok. Now two boys and two puppies.

These dogs are running all over the place, jumping on the furniture (X allows it at his place...) attack me with nips and licks every time I sit down... and I'm really a dog lover, but this is all so overwhelming to me. Especially after a full day of work. I pay attention to one dog? The other comes running over.

They've peed in my kitchen, wouldn't let the kids fall asleep... and? The X said "oh, don't worry - they'll fall asleep in your bed." WHAT?!?! He never told me that before (and I happen to know, when we were married X always said that he would never allow a dog to sleep in his bed.... hmmmmm) So, tonight I'll have the two dogs, at some point during the night the two kids will wander in... and tomorrow? J.

Yes, J, his dog, and his daughter are coming too. For the weekend. We're gonna bbq on the balcony. I told X I'd do it if J would come, that way I wouldn't be outnumbered. But that was before I knew I'd have the dogs during the week, too.

Labor Day Weekend House guest Tally: Three dogs, two children, one college student and two grown ups.

And for good measure...

My new sitter just quit. Actually, can somebody quit before they even start? I sent her an email asking about sick/vacation days & she emailed back that she and her husband are starting fertility treatments... and she's very sorry...

And I know she is. Sorry. BUT NOT AS SORRY AS I AM!!!!

SHIT.

So, I contacted my second choice to see if she could send me some references... of course I interviewed her over two weeks ago - so she might be working somewhere else already...

If not.. maybe I'll go with the high school girl? I don't know. Is 16 too young? It's only four hours a day....

And... if I could continue in the frame of mind I was in before (previous post) how unfair is it that I have to deal with all this shit. X gets the kids four days a month. That's it. He deals with none of the stresses, doesn't worry about missing work, doesn't get woken up 3 times a night...

Ack. Sorry. Very obviously in one of those "Feeling Sorry for Self" moods... and like I said (previous post) sometimes it just hits. Most of the time I'm just used to it. And honestly... it wasn't much better when he was here...but

This sitter thing just f-ing sucks.



(And kia ora to my Kiwi reader!)

I'm in a BAD Mood

You know how sometimes it's the little things that set you off? Yeah. It's like that. I called one of the class mothers from Nathan's old school. I had purchased a DVD of his graduation ceremony & realized I never received it.

She's like "Well, I'm right on 108th Street, I have a doorman, you can come by anytime and pick it up."

When I asked if she could mail it she was like "No. Not going to the post office." Which is entirely reasonable. Really. (Especially if you know the hell that is the Forest Hills Post Office.)

But.

That just totally set me off. The thing is.... there is NO TIME I can ever get over there! I swear! During the week I have to come rightbacktomyhome rightaway rightfromthesubway donotpassgo donotcollect100dollars. And once home? With the kids? Can't really go out again. I don't have a car (don't really need one here...) so for us to go anywhere we have to walk, bus or subway. Trapped. I'm trapped.

And on weekends, in Manhattan with J from Friday post work on - or doing things with just me & kids. So if we do it then we ALL have to walk over to this woman's house.

And it's so silly. It's such a little thing. But sometimes it's the little things... (Said that already? Yeah. I know.)

And I say to her: "But, I'm a single mom, I work all day, I have the two little kids at home, I don't have a car... It's nearly impossible for me to get over there." And she says "Well, I'm at home with my kids all day long, and it's difficult, and I can't do it." But... ummmm? What do you do when the kids are in school? Couldntcha do me a favor?

Then I feel like a loser, using the single mom thing... but it's the truth! If there was another adult here I could stop off on my way home. I could run over (or the other adult could.... telling me to sit on the couch eating bon bons while they go out to fetch whatever it is I desire....) but it could be done. And am I wrong using that card? The "Single Mom" card? Maybe. Maybe I'm jealous that she has that other pair of hands... maybe I'm wrong in assuming that things are easier for her - just by virtue of that. I probably am.

Ack. So, maybe I'm a wee bit hormonal... but sometimes it just feels like everything is such a frigging EFFORT. And I get used to it - but then something minor like this comes up & it's just so frustrating....

And

Well.

Just: Ugh.

Apropos of Absolutely Nothing.

Did a lot of walking this weekend (went to South street Seaport for drinks, Francisco's for lobster, Friday - Shakespeare in the Park Saturday, and Practice day at the US Open today. Yep. That's me. Taking full advantage of everything NYC has to offer. One of the little spoken about benefits of divorce... the weekend without the kids...)

But anyhow.

Did a lot of walking, and as I was walking I said to J: "Ever noticed that some flip flops make noise and some don't?" And you know what? He honestly never noticed that! Imagine! So I asked a follow-up: "Well, I've noticed it - because these shoes that I'm wearing now are making a loud 'slap, slap' sound when I walk, and some don't. I wonder why that is. Do you ever wonder why that is?" And imagine once again my surprise when he told me that "no" he has never wondered that!! Can you believe it?!? How can I be going out with somebody who doesn't constantly ponder the mysteries of the universe?!?!

So yeah. I'm wondering. Really. Why do some make that "slap, slap" noise when you walk and some allow you tread as silently as a cat....? I'm thinking it has something to do with the position of the toe thingy (you know, between the first & second toes), or perhaps the positioning of the straps.

Perhaps I should consult a physicist? You know, somebody who could work out how where the tension is placed on the foot relates to the amount of noise created by the bottom of the foot and the top of the shoe.

Anyone?


ETA: Lest you think I am very cavalier about weekends without children - let me hasten to remind you that I spend 26 out of a 30 days month with my children. Just me. Single parent. The X has them 4 (and let's not go to the place where I start talking about why he sees his children so infrequently... and how they feel about that. Let's just NOT go there.). So.... yes - I relish and enjoy those moments when I can sleep late, not have to wipe a tush, cut up a chicken nugget... whatever.

No Human Rights In "Kid Nation" - August 23, 2007

No Human Rights In "Kid Nation" - August 23, 2007

Trying, trying trying to be non-judgemental here... I'm sure there's some reason somewhere why parents would 1) allow their children to be a part of this show and 2) sign the waiver giving CBS the responsibility for even picking out medical care for their children! Consent for surgery!

I'm sure somewhere there's some reason.

Right?

Somebody please tell me what it is.... because this absolutely and totally boggles my mind.

Churning, churning...

You know, when I was with X it wasn't great... but at least when I was feeling off, when things were bothering me... whatever - I always knew where to look (inside) for the cause of those problems. Him! Antsy? Depressed? Angry? Anxious? Tense? Stressed? X. X. X. X. X. and X. Sure I felt those feelings on a pretty regular basis... but life was predictable. I'd wake up, feeling anxious, know it was because of X... get my walls up & get through the day. Ahhhh. life was so simple then...


Now, it seems, something else is happening. I'm feeling tense. I'm feeling anxious. I'm feeling stressed. And I'm not really sure why. I'd say this has been going on a good three months... with breaks here and there....but yeah. Three months.


We spent the past weekend at J's & it was great. Friday night I took the kids to B'nai Jeshurun for Friday night services... J met us... I was fine. Happy. Calm. Thinking/feeling.. isn't this nice.... Then at some point: BOOM! I got tensesotenseIcouldnotrelaxeverythingwasbotheringme. That's how I felt. Totally wound up.


Did I mention my parents came, too?


I'm not saying it's because of them, but I'll tell you - I was miserably tense all though dinner (and had two glasses of wine!)


My mom, of course, started the evening by telling me she brought the boys jackets. That I didn't pack. Because it might be cold. Tension point number one.


Both parents were dying to spend time with the kids. They hadn't really seen them since July 4th weekend. The kids would have no part of it. They were doing their own thing. Plus J's other daughter was there & the kids never see her.... so.... pretty fun girl, boring old grandparents? Right. The Grandparents were visibly upset. Tension point number 2.


Plus I always feel like my parents have super x-ray eyes. (They're parents after all. Don't all parents have those?) They're watching me. They're watching my kids. Waiting. Waiting for something to go wrong so they can tell me. Tension point number 3.


Ahhh, you're saying... you know why you were tense after all! Ok. Maybe I do. But that stuff has all happened before... not really sure why it was so bad that night.... and it was bad. I was miserable. Can't say it was any better for poor J - who had to bare (bear? I never know) the brunt of it.


We get back to J's place, I get the kids settled & go into his bathroom to get ready for bed. My stuff! It's all over the place! Some of it is missing! MY STUFF!!!!!! I ask (in my calm, not at all tense voice - yeah, right.) WHERE IS MY STUFF? J explained that the girls cleaned out the stuff in the bathroom. The put most of my stuff back, but the stuff they didn't know who it belonged to... was in this box... MY STUFF!!!!! I was like "but, but.... I had ALL OF MY STUFF in one place. It wasn't like it was all spread out. If they didn't know whose it was... if it was in my place, it was... (say it with me now) MY STUFF!" (I like my stuff, OK?)


Could have, perhaps, maybe, overreacted a wee, wee bit. But shit. Don't mess with a girl's stuff!


Had a horrible nights' sleep, was so tense before I fell asleep you could have bounced a marble off my back. Woke up in the middle of a dream - when J's alarm went off. I said: "I was in the middle of a dream" and promptly started hyperventilating and crying. Sobbing. All the feelings that were in my unconscious. In that dream. There. On the table (OK, bed. We didn't sleep on the table.) Out there. Raw. And I couldn't really even remember the dream, just kept saying/feeling "It was that I didn't belong."


Oy. I tell ya'. I'm sick of this emotional drama in my life. I understand that when you're in therapy you bring things to the surface & become a bit more exposed. I get that. But c'mon now!


So I've been really thinking about this - beyond the "I don't belong" feeling... because that would probably be a whole other post. But I've been thinking why I've been having so many more feelings (and the good ones too - but just not having as many of those recently!) and I think it's because when I was with X I was so concerned with HIS feelings. Keeping him happy. Keeping him relaxed. Keeping him calm would keep things calm for me. I didn't have time to worry about my own feelings... if he was OK he'd be OK at home. When I did have the feelings... my own feelings.. they were immediate. A reaction to what had just happened with him. And it wasn't talked about. It was tabled. Shelved. In my brain.


So, I'm thinkin'... that part of it is an overflow from what was created with him (my friend, a shrink, really feels that part of it is PTSD - the sobbing & hyperventilating) and part of it is just the luxury of having feelings. Being able to have my own... so I'm experiencing them more.


So yeah. It's been the best of summers, and the worst of summers. And now I'm just ready for it to end. (NOT the summer! NO! Love summer! Hate Moods!)

Thw Wall Has Been Smashed

So I'm at work Friday & on the phone with Citibank trying to figure out what was going on with my new bank card. (I lost one, they sent me a new one, and it's been chaos ever since.)

So, I'm on the phone with them for a good half hour trying different things.... FINALLY - they figure it out and tell me: "I'm going to put you on hold for a minute, will put this through, then when I come back on it should be fixed." I say "ok." I hear: Click. Phone disconnected. I say:

"Fuck."

I hear:

"MOM!!!"

Max was at work with me.

"I NEVER hear you say that! You said the F word! Daddy says that, but you NEVER do! I don't believe it! The F word!! You said it!!!"

I apologized and attempted to explain myself.

Later I see him sitting. Looking pensive. I ask him what he's thinking about.

"I'm just thinking about you saying the "F" word. I just can't believe it."

The innocence: Gone. Another wall: Smashed. I am one step closer to being a regular person and not just a "Mom."

Ay yay, yay

So OK. I'm not perfect. Sometimes things happen in my kids' lives that I don't pick up on & I'm not the perfect, kind, supportive, always there for you mom.

But I get an A for effort, right?

Nathan is going through something. Not major. But enough. He's clingy, he's teary, he wants to know where I am all the time - But it took me his "I'm going to cry every day when Gwen leaves." comment for me to realize. It's.....

Transition Time.

Think about it. He's spent his summer not seeing most of his friends, the babysitter he has had for most of his life is leaving, he's going to a brand new school, none of his friends will be at that school - and oh yeah, I carelessly let drop that he has to go for a blood test the end of this month. Just to pile another worry onto him.

Let me explain.

I'm a single mom. A social worker. A social worker with lots of debt. A single mom with an X husband who though he supports us as he's supposed to - does not really like to part with money. An X husband who does not believe in summer camp. ("They can go to the park." "This is a time of cutting back, camp is a luxury item. I don't support luxury items.") And you know, the mediators support that. When we were doing the agreement, they said the same thing. I could have gone through lawyers, but to pay the legal fees for that -- just to get him to pay for summer camp.... well... doesn't make too much sense. (And I'm not sure why it's not covered - as I WORK during the day, and we're getting a PART TIME sitter since they're both in school full time - so WHERE DO THEY GO the first half of the day. Help me. I'm already stressing about next summer! Make me stop!!)

Enough. Back on track.

So. Since X left the kids have been going to summer camp at the Forest Hills Jewish Center. They went for school from the time they were 2 1/2 and then camp. When X left he would not pay for it. You know: Luxury Item. But I was determined to keep things the same as possible for them... so I spoke to the director. She helped me out, and let them go to summer camp for free. (By "camp" I use the term loosely. It's at the school. In classrooms. They play on the roof...)

Once most kids get older - say about 4-5 years old - they leave the Jewish Center camp and go to "regular" camps. On Long Island. That cost upwards of $3000 for a summer. I have two kids. Free camp? $6000 for camp? Plus babysitter. Right. You get it.

(Omigod, sorry this is so long!) This summer ALL of Nathans friends were at other camps. They would get home at about 4 pm when he was done at 1, and he never got to see them. Plus he was one of the oldest kids at the camp & had a difficult time connecting with the other kids. (Which is not usual for him. He's usually the most loved. For the first time he came home and said "Coby said he doesn't want to be my friend!" It was heartbreaking!)

So he's been off kilter all summer long.

Now our sitter is leaving. At first I thought he was ok. Now he's asking, all the time: "When is Gwen's last day?" And saying: "I'm going to cry every day when she's gone." And "Gwen doesn't love us. She loves babies."

And you also know where I go in my mind - that mommy guilt. That Divorced Mommy Guilt. And even though I know that Wallerstein says not to put everything back on the divorce... I feel like he's had this loss of having his dad move out... why this, too? (And now of course he's older & he's saying things like "When I'm at Daddy's I miss you. When I'm with you I miss Daddy.")

So, I try. I try to say the right things "Gwen still loves you. You can call her. We can see her." But he just refutes everything I say.

And now kindergarten. "I don't want to go. None of my friends will be there. It's scary. It's big." Which I know are all normal feelings, but....

THEN he had to hear my telling J that I had to bring him in for another blood test (he's on the small side so we've been monitoring his growth, hormone levels, etc...) His pediatric endocrinologist had actually told him that he had to go for only one more test - and then he wouldn't have to come back anymore -- and Nathan told EVERYBODY! "Dr David told me I don't have to come back!"

Except that on his last blood test he tested low for thyroid. So he has to get it re-tested.

So he hears me telling J and he's all "He lied! Dr. David lied! He said I don't have to go back! I don't want to go for another test...!"

And now he's all anxious about that, too!

I don't know. I mean, I know kids go through stuff.... and this is all relatively minor stuff - on the Stuff Scale ... but I just feel like they should be able to go through at least the first ten years of their lives without stress, without anxiety... there's so much of it to go around when they're older...

The working wounded / Most women don't have a choice to stay home with kids

The working wounded / Most women don't have a choice to stay home with kids

Amen.

Random thoughts from a baseball weekend.

I'm going to start off this post by saying that I hope the pictures I upload end up at least somewhere NEAR where I want them to be... I haven't been having the best of luck with that.

So this weekend was another baseball weekend. Yankees and Detroit Tigers. J is an ardent Tigers fan (his dad was a fan... way back from Hank Greenberg - one of the few Jewish ball players who apparently won a very ardent group of followers.) So, even though they never lived in Detroit, or even Michigan, J grew up following the Tigers. Plus J has season tickets to the Yankees... sooo.... We went Saturday and today (she said, still picking peanut shells out of her shoes...).

My boys have been converted from the dedicated Yankees fans they were at the beginning of the season, to the sort of Tigers fan that would make any Motor Cityite proud. So they were very excited to go both days. J couldn't go Saturday - so my sister came with us - then J was with us Sunday.

I just don't get the absolute dedication and ardor that people show. To a sports team. Now I guess you have to understand something - when I was growing up we never went to any sporting events. Never. Oh wait - we went to a few MISL games because I developed a crush on Branko Segota (we were snowed in at a hotel with the New York Arrows & he was there & he waved at me. He waved at me!! I must have been about 14/15 years old... and this cute soccer star WAVED at me! That and my mom said "He's looking at you. Look! He's looking at you!" OMIGODOMIGODOMIGOD! But I digress.... but what a fun digression down memory lane it was....)but we never really did the sports thing. The culture thing, sure - but... (And Ok, in the interest of full disclosure I did have Jim Morrison, John Lennon, and Mick Jagger posters all over my room...)

So here are two things I noticed. Going to a home game with people (children) wearing hats from the opposing team. Uh uh. My kids were NOT shy about who they support ("Go Tigers! Yankees Suck!"). They got high fives from the U. Michigan students, pats on the back from the older Tigers fans... and... the man sitting in front of us today ripped up paper and stuffed it in his ears to prevent him from hearing my kids yell. (No joke. I sat there watching him, and I'm now trying to decide if I want that paper to get stuck in there or not.)

But I'm watching the game, watching the people & MAN - people take this shit really seriously, huh? Like really. Like enough to give little kids a dirty look when they say "Yay Pudge!"

Then there was this man who stood up and danced each time the Yankees did... oh... anything.

But there was the man with the orange goatee who sat on the end of row. He left his seat and came to get us after he saw us walking the wrong way (away from our seats) saying he wanted to help us even though we're Detroit fans. (Thank you Man With The Orange Goatee! We'd probably still be wandering if not for you!!)

Then we went to wait for autographs after... and it made the whole thing worse... imagine if you will... a group of people - grown-ups and kids... waiting for a smile, a wave, a handshake or maybe even an autograph from a sporting figure they've been rooting for for the past three hours. Imagine, if you will, those same sporting figures walking by. Not waving. Not smiling. Not acknowledging at all. Huh?!? I was so aggravated. Of course, the "real" fans forgave them. Me, I'll get back to you.

And no. The pictures are nowhere near where I want them to be.

Punk Rock Girl

Anybody remember that song? Punk Rock Girl? The Dead Milkmen? I used to love that song, Bitchin' Camaro. "Bitchin' Camaro, bitchin Camaro, donuts on your lawn! Bitchin Camaro, bitchin Camaro, Tony Orlando and Dawn!" Classic! (And I"m not going to go into the "Taking the Retards to the Zoo song....)

So anyhow, I started thinking about this last week, when I went to the Crowded House Concert. (Which was absolutely positively GREAT!) and was reminded when I read this post by MetroDad -- how I used to go to concerts all the time. I used to be so hip. So cool. So up on music. I'd go to CBGB. I'd go slam dancing. (OK. Once. At a Dickies concert @ CBs - when I soon realized that my 5'2" frame was far, far too small to do that with those BIG BOYS with combat boots....) (And how random is it that they have a Dickies posting on Wikipedia?!?)

So there I was, sitting in my $50 seat, at the Beacon Theater. Sitting. With other people who were also sitting. Nicely. Drinking bottled water. Listening to music that was very nearly easy listening. Augh!

(Yes, yes! I admit it! I'm a music snob! A terrible, horrible music snob!!!)

I'd go to a concert a month. We (my friends and I - mostly my friend Susan -- but I brought and converted everyone!) were Fishbone groupies, would go to bars just to hear random bands...

And OK. The point is. Here I am now, at the concert and it's 9:30 pm and I'm looking at my watch. "It's 9:30! It hasn't started yet! I'm already tired!" I got home after 1 am and was dead the next day.

What happened? How did it happen? When did it happen? I didn't notice it happening!!

I'm still kinda cool, right? Right?


(And don't get me started about the CBs closing & that bloody Hilly Kristal not doing anything, and the press not picking up at all that he wasn't paying rent to a organization that serves the homeless, for crying out loud. Yeah, I have a couple of strong opinions. Just don't get me started on Whole Foods....)

Well, it's done

I hired somebody. I hired a new babysitter. Amazing how this thing can be so big, and then all of a sudden.... it's solved. Over. Done. Next.

I interviewed about 6 different people, and the woman that I hired will actually be great! She is a college student, studying to be a teacher... a bit older than a traditional student, is personable, articulate, sweet, has a ready laugh, my boys like her.... and got the best references I've ever heard. For anybody.

It was between her and a local high school student. The high school student was also very sweet, seemed responsible, dedicated to the job - and local. Also $2 cheaper... But when it came down to it - I just couldn't do the 16 year old thing... I know, I know, I babysat when I was that age.... and I was responsible... but when I was presented with this other sitter (who I hired) well - it was no contest.

(Plus my mom said I should hire the more expensive one, but we won't go there. Not in this post. But honestly.... sometimes she is right. And sometimes, as much as I balk at it.... sometimes she does have some good advice....)

I made one mistake in the process. I mistakenly thought that X would be able to take part. Take part, that is, as a "normal" responsible parent. (Stop laughing.)

He started out ok... of course there were the "what color is she" questions and the "I don't like the Irish" comments... but I'm pretty used to those & able to deflect. He mentioned one time that he'd like to take part in the interviews.... but when I gave him times & dates... wouldn'tcha know... he had previous engagements! So I did it on my own.

But, I'd tell him about the interviewees & he actually seemed to have some good ideas... but I realized... too late - that it was (say it with me now) All About The Money.

'Cause that's what it always is with him, isn't it.

He kept advocating for the HS girl, and I wasn't really sure why... then when I told him I wanted the college one - who was $2 more... he made it very clear. He does not want to spend that much. That extra $100 or so per month will make a difference.... (I didn't tell him I already offered the College Girl the job....)

I don't know. It's strange. We're supposed to be co-parenting.... but oops! I sometimes forget he's a co-parent! Sometimes I've made "bad" mistakes, like taking the kids on vacation & not telling him, or signing them up for some class without talking to him about it. It's not right. It's not fair. Really. If I want him to co-parent I really need to include him. Right?

I just feel like everything comes down to money for him. And while I fully realize that money is VERY important.. .and just because I work non-profit I *do* realize the value of a buck. But, well, I guess I realize the value of my kids more. (He'd argue that saving for their future is caring more... I'd argue that giving them a good foundation in which to have that future is better... Wrong or right? I don't know. Probably just two different ways of looking at the world...)

So, where am I going with this? Kinda off track.... I guess the point was, I hired the Super College Girl Sitter for $12/hour and will not be taking the High Schooler for $10. I feel more comfortable with CGS, feel like she'll help with their homework more, feel like she'll be more confident in terms of what to do with/for them, and dang it - I'll just feel more at ease. I figure that's worth and extra $40/week? Right?

Weekend Away

It was really nice. Really relaxing. More details to follow.

And one more thing...

Oh yeah. This also happened... which I think was also good.

There was some bickering, and some moods. And when I was with X he was always moody. And when he'd be moody and quiet the next thing out of his mouth would be something to do with me. How he didn't like what I was wearing, how I looked... something.

So imagine, if you will.... me in a bathing suit. A BATHING SUIT - when somebody who is not so comfortable with their body image is at their most vulnerable -- and imagine J going all quiet.

So you know where I went in my brain, right?

It wasn't pretty. It was really hard. You know how brains are... you can tell them one thing, you can say that J is most certainly NOT X... but brains are still hard wired, conditioned, used to one way of being.

Oh. It was so hard.

BUT - I got through it. And another day, when it happened again, I just told myself: "Self. J is NOT X. Stop it. It's a mood. People have moods. You're in a horrible PMS mood, for crying out loud! You've been bickering. You've been talking. He loves you. It's not about you. Get through this. Deal with it." And I did.

But oh. It was hard.

Finally!

My Summer Vacation

So, the trip was lots of fun. It was J, his daughter, my kids, and their friend and his two teenage girls. I'm sure some of you remember, a few posts down, I wrote about how I had been experiencing a wee bit of PMS.... Remember? Yes. Well. If you don't, I'm reminding you now, because those three letters figure in quite a bit. Not hugely - but enough.

So anyhow.

We got up to Lake George fairly early and went straight to the lake. J had said: "It's so great, we bring down beer, soda, chips and hang out on the dock. We're at the lake all day! It's fun, relaxing, just so nice!" Sounds super, right? Food? Beer? Relaxation? Sun? One thing he didn't think of - and neither did I, for that matter: My kids are younger than his. I can't sit and relax. I can't read a book. I can't snooze. I have to be down there, in the lake, in the water, playing, encouraging, and watching. See that photo? Like that.

So that was one.

Then two. I'm fair skinned. I'm really fair skinned. I haven't been out in the sun for such long periods of time since I was a teenager and slathered my body in coconut oil trying to get that deep down Tropical Tan.... That was a lot of sun.

And then....

I thought I'd like to hang out at the lake all day. I really did. But when it came down to it... I started to get... a little.... bored. I wasn't relaxing. I wasn't reading. I was sitting and watching my kids frolic. Yes, yes, it was broken up with the odd jet ski ride... and yes, yes, what parent doesn't lovelovelove watching their children grow, learn and have fun.... but heck. There's only so many "Mom! Look at me! Over here! Look now! Watch me! Max splashed me! Nathan splashed me! Look at this great rock! Hold it for me!"s you can hear. To make for a relaxing vacation... if you know what I mean.

And if I sound like I'm being petty and complaining... maybe I am. And also, those three little letters were always there.... lurking in the background. PMS.

How can I describe PMS for those of you who haven't experienced it....? It's a total annoyance and discomfort with the world. It's a constant agitated and sort of itchy feeling. It's the feeling where you just want to go into your bed & pull the covers over your head. It's like what I said to J "Just take a rubber mallet, hit me over the head, and put me out of my misery." It's just a horrible unsettled feeling, totally on edge, and everything that happens is magnified. Little things become bigger. Huge. Gigantic. Massive.

So, I said to J - Hey - could we do something else? Break up the day? Not spend so much time at the Lake? You could have heard a pin drop. "This is how we've always done it."

Oh. Then it dawned on me... I was on their vacation. The one they've done the same way for about six years. They have their traditions. Their plans. Their schedule. That did not really sit well with my pmsed self. I felt excluded. I felt like a (welcomed) guest on somebody else's trip.

Then, if you don't mind, lets go back to the age of my kids and the age of theirs. 5 (me) and 13 (them). 7 (me) and 18 (them). Now, the kids all got along great, and it was so cool for me to watch my kids interacting with the "big" kids, and seeing the big kids being so kind and helpful with them. It was really super.

But.

They do things until late in the night. Fireworks, shopping, hanging out. My kids can do it, but they (me) will pay the price the next day. (no, they don't sleep late. They alwaysalwaysalways wake up the same time.) So when J said "Oh, lets go to the fireworks, it will be fun!" I snapped: "Sure, fun for everybody but what about tomorrow when they're cranky?! This is MY vacation to and I don't want to spend it with cranky kids!"

Can you hear it? Can you imagine it? You know, these aren't big things... but PMS blow them up. I snap. He's upset. I'm upset because then I don't know what to do. Let them stay up? Hang out? See what happens? Make the next day even worse? Am I being rational, or is this a decision being made with PMS brain?

Oy yoy, yoy. I know. You're tired already. This is long & lots of details... but that's kind of what it was like. Dealing with all these new things. Me coming on his family vacation. Him dealing with younger kids & somebody who doesn't like all they things they usually did... It was tough. It was a transition. Complicated by hormones.

Butcha know - (and here's the cool part! Aren't you glad you made it down this far??!) We did it. And we talked about it. And we bickered, and we talked about it. And by the end... you know... I felt so much more secure and solid about our relationship. About our families. Because this wasn't a throw-away vacation. We didn't just say "oh, lets just forget it - you do one thing, I'll do another..." We talked, listened, compromised... and it was good.

I'm an interviewin' machine!

Like a tuna sandwich, I'm on a roll! (Come on, you smiled a little, right?) I put an ad on craigslist and have eight interviews set up for part-time sitters. Not bad, eh? I woke up this morning to about seven more emails. Craigslist rules!

So, we'll see. I have three categories: 1) The High School student who probably won't be long term, but could be fun for the kids, less expensive & also somebody I could possibly use for a weekend/evening sitter; 2) The College Student - who also won't be long term... but since they're all ed majors could be good to help kids with homework; 3) The "regular sitter" who should be fine, but may want more money & I'm worried are just looking at this part-time job because they need something & will leave as soon as they get full time...

So, we'll see. I have two interviews tonight.

And I know - I still have to write about my vacation! And J and I are actually going away this weekend (that I actually keep forgetting about, actually. Do you think I say "actually" enough? Actually, I probably don't.)

I'll try to get to the post-vacation wrap up, but with the two interviews tonight... not so sure.

Just think of it as a plot. A ploy. A plan to get you to keep coming back to see if I've written about it yet. Yep. I know you so well....

Wait. Was I on vacation?

I thought I was. But then, I thought you're supposed to have that post vacation buzz for at least a week.... Right?

Yeah. So. My babysitter quit. Yesterday. We had worked out that she would continue part-time in September - when both kids are in school full time - & find another part-time job. She took another full time job. Which, I suppose I understand..... in the dark, dark recesses of my mind..... but shit. Shouldn't she have told me that she wasn't finding anything part time? Shouldn't she have given me some sort of clue?!

So now I'm looking for a new part time sitter. Wish me luck.

And oh. Big rainstorm today. Leak over Nathan's bed. On bed. On Nathan.

WTF.

Yes, There Is a Place Named ‘Real Good’ - New York Times

Yes, There Is a Place Named ‘Real Good’ - New York Times

Where I live!

Two Questions (or maybe three)

How I ask you, HOW is a parent supposed to know when to bring a child to the Dr? Or not?

Last night Max's ankle hurt him. It was a bit red & swollen. I gave him some Motrin, told him to go to sleep & let me know how it is in the morning. This morning. Still red, swollen & sore. He would pull away when I touched it. He said "Ouch!" when he walked. He said "ouch!" when he moved it.

Did I mention we're going on vacation tomorrow?

I knew it wasn't broken.... but how could I know what else it was? How else, I ask you!?!? So, I brought him to the Dr.

And why is it that 9 out of ten times I bring my kids to the Dr. I wind up feeling like an over-worried hypochondriac mom? WHY?!?

Dr. looks, touches, prods, moves.... Tells Max "Jump up and down." Max does. On his bad food. HOW WAS I TO KNOW?!?!?

He said it's just a bruise. Doesn't need ice. Doesn't need rest. Doesn't need Motrin. No nothing.

(Now you know it's not that I WANTED him to need those things... but I might, perhaps, have felt a bit more comfortable having him miss a day of camp & me be late to work if there was at least SOMETHING wrong!

Ugh.

And now another question (which may or may not play into the somewhat FRANTIC tone of this post...) (You noticed it too, huh?) WHY would I have to have PMS just when I"m leaving for vacation?! Why? Where is the justice?!? It's supposed to be a calm, relaxing, have fun time... not a "OMIGOD WHAT IS GOING ON HERE THERE AND EVERYWHERE AND EVERYTHING HAS TO BE EXACTLY IN IT'S RIGHT SPOT AND WHY IS THAT OVER THERE? AND WHY IS HE DOING THAT? AND WHAT DID SHE MEAN BY THAT? AND WHY CAN'T i SLEEP? AND WHY AM I SO SLEEPY?"

Ya know?

Just wondering, that's all.

Yeah. That's me.

Perhaps I should stop poking through the photos.... But yes, that's me. With the hood. We're in Fire Island. Must be about 1966 ish. My mom's right behind me with my Dad wearing the denim shirt. Can I believe they look so...... cool? I'm trying.

Big Game

I love this photo! It's probably from the early 1960s. It's my Dad (balding guy w/dark sunglasses on the right) my Grandfather (oldest man) and my two uncles.
Sooooooooo intent.

Inflammatory Breast Cancer

Ok. I posted this as my "shared items" plus I forwarded this link to ohhhh, just about everybody I know. But, on the off chance this catches one more person - I'm including the link it here.

I blog. And I read blogs. And I read this one by Whymommy where she is writing about her battle with Inflammatory Breast Cancer.

Now, I've often joked that I have the most examined breasts this side of the Rockies. I've had mammograms, ultrasounds, needle biopsies, core biopsies, lumps/cysts removed, milk ducts removed, a day of examination of a mysterious lump.... only to find out/realize it was a bruise from my falling asleep on a Lego. (!!!) But I had never ever ever heard of Inflammatory Breast Cancer before.

It's scary.

Here I was thinking that with all this examination I was safe from breast cancer. I had become complacent. Hey, I even have "Breast Specialist" - what could happen?. I'm not. This could. Especially since we don't know/never heard of any of the symptoms!

So, those three of you who read this blog. Or anybody who has not read the email I forwarded - read this. Educate yourself. Tell people.

Then go pop over & tell Whymommy she can do it. 'Cause she can.

Hooray!!

So guess what! Come on! Guess!!

Ahhh, you never will. I'll tell you.

I have one client that I see for purely psychotherapy. Most of my other clients are case management, supportive counseling, or case assistance. This client came into the office about a year ago, ostensibly to find out what sort of government programs he might qualify for, started talking and just did not stop. I soon realized that he did not want any of that sort of assistance, but really needed to talk.

I said to my co-worker (who does mostly psychotherapy, and who is very good) -- "but I don't do therapy!" To which she responded... "Ummm, you actually ARE. This is what it is."

So anyhow, he came in today & told me that in the past week he has made some significant changes. So, I asked him why he thought he was now able to do that... after thinking a bit he said "From coming here."

"FROM COMING HERE!" ME! FROM SEEING ME!!! You have absolutely no idea what that feels like. To have actually made that sort of impact. I mean, I'm used to doing concrete services (signing up for meals on wheels, government programs, getting home care, etc, etc) all of which *do* make an impact and have direct change on the quality of peoples' lives.... but this!! This!! Just through talking, listening, asking questions... for a YEAR! It has taken a YEAR to get this change.

When I talk to my co-worker about this client & complain that it's the same thing with him, each week... nothing changes... (she gives me "supervision" which is where you talk about cases...) she says "that's what therapy is. It takes a long time. Don't expect anything over night..."

You know, when I went back to school for my MSW it was with the idea of putting up a shingle. Of doing therapy. But my supervisor in my first field placement was not so encouraging. "You know" she would say "there are other kinds of social work." But, looking back now - that was one of the worst years of my life. Going back to grad school when Nathan was only 6 months, Max not yet two... I was not ready for it. It was too hard. Classes. Field work. (I had to go. Had been going part-time and the school told me I had to do my field work then, or lose my credits.) Two children under the age of two. Little/no help from my then husband. ("You don't have a "real" job, you're in school. I have the job. I have to get my sleep.") So my therapy skills might not have been as good as they could have.

Then, my second year field work... was a bit better - but I was still so distracted. Then X and I split 2nd semester & he moved out right before graduation. ("No, I can't stay until you're done with finals. It will always be something! I have to go now.")

So I never thought I could do it. And maybe I couldn't then. Maybe my brain was just too messed up with that horrible marriage - then the divorce... who knows.

But I did it, I did it! (Doing virtual happy dance!)

Wasting time at work? You're not alone: survey - Yahoo! News

Wasting time at work? You're not alone: survey - Yahoo! News

Who?!?! Me?!?!

Ahhh, lounge chairs...

My parents are going away this weekend and.... well... I'm having a party at their house!!! (Augh! I said it!)

I know. I feel like such a dork. I mean, I'm a "grown-up" (whatever that means) and here I am running out to my parents' suburban home, when they're away, with the express purpose to invite people over and eat and drink!

It's just that... you know.... the whole Manhattan living thing (I know, I live in Queens, but the concept still applies!), the whole small apartment thing.... vs a backyard! A BBQ!! Lounge chairs!!! (Ahhhh, the lounge chairs.....) Don't get me wrong, I love urban living (and right now it's not feeling so horribly urban with my pigeon and mouse infestation...) but summertime is BBQ time! (And lounge chair time....)

I love the summer.

I actually feel like a totally different person in the summer. Lighter. More relaxed. More carefree. In the winter I feel pinched. Tense. All wound up. I just don't like it. I love the heat, I love sitting in the sun.... I actually feel like I get energy from it. It's just my favoritefavoritefavorite time of year.

And I think my kids feel the same way. Although they sleep with their faces in front of a fan (with the AC on) and I sleep in my flannels. (I have airconditioning issues. Heat. I'm all about heat.)

In my before kids/single days, when I lived in Manhattan, I used to love the city on summer weekends, concerts, street fairs, outdoor brunches, and Central Park! I would come home at 4 am Friday and Saturday nights, and then the next day pick up a bottle of water, a bagel, and just flop in the Sheep Meadow in Central Park.... Eventually throughout the day all my friends would come & we'd converge there.

It was so great.

Now with the kids I've found all the cool water playgrounds (a great one by Tavern on the Green & you can even sneak in to use their bathroom!), the fun outdoor concerts (Dan Zanes!), and the boardwalk and baseball games...

Butcha know... for riding their bikes... it's mostly out in the 'burbs, for their swimming, it's mostly out in the 'burbs. J says he will take the kids bikes to his place & we can bike in Riverside Park. That's a good place to bike. I just can't get my mind around biking on these sidewalks...with all the driveways, and streets.... Taking off Max's training wheels & running with him?

You can take the girl out of the suburbs, but you can't take the suburbs out of the girl!

Baseball Weekend

Yep. This past weekend was just all, all, all about baseball. And, errr, well - that was ok. I like being outside. I like the summer. And I like being with happy people; so...

We went to the Yankees game on Saturday. (No. I don't know who won. Don't ask me!) J has season tickets but only four. We were five. The last time we went we stopped off at the Yankee Club for brunch before - so we just went into the game. Nobody noticed & we didn't really think about it. (Yes, ok - Nathan's 5 and a real person... but we just didn't think about it!) This time we went in through the front & were stopped. "Hey, there are five of you but four tickets!" We spoke to a manager who said "If he can fit under the turnstile it's ok."

So, we started to walk through when suddenly a security man grabbed Max's arm. I was on one side of the turnstile, he was on the other. The look on his face... (no, it wasn't quite like the one he so ably made for that photo...) I said "Let him go! You're scaring him!" The man wouldn't. ("Gotta keep my hands on this 7 year old! Who knows what he'll do!")

Finally we worked it out & the man let Max in. He snuffled a bit & seemed ok. A few minutes later: "Mom, what happens if somebody grabs me & tries to take me away?" I explained how you yell as loud as you can & kick, bite, punch & somebody will help. Or I'll be there. "Yes. But what if they don't? What if you're not?"

I just kept saying that they will, and I will -- because you know, I just couldn't go to that other place in my mind....

Rest of the game was fairly uneventful. Got cotton candy, which is always cool. Spent far too much on souvenirs... (I'm a sucker for buying my kids souvenirs. I just am.)

Then, came back to J's, visited R @ her job at Ben & Jerry's - got free icecream (whoo hoo!) and ate on J's stoop. Found out that the boy's dad was right down the street and played for a bit in Riverside Park. (I'm thinking that that is where I got all the bites I'm currently scratching..) (And yes, strange photo of me. I look oddly contorted or something...)

The next day we went to Brooklyn for a Cyclone's game. We went to Nathan's which wa very exciting for Nathan! He kept thanking us for coming to his restaurant... walked on the Boardwalk, went to the beach, and even the Aquarium! Then the game!

It was so cool! Seeing the Parachute jump in the background... being so close to the game, the boys getting to really see the players, have their glove/balls signed... I'm a believer!

Feel free, at any time, to ask me how much I HATE Blogger's photo formatting. These photos are nowhere near where I wanted to put them.

The weekend

Just some photos. Will post later.