The older I get, the less significant time seems to become.  Or more significant, depending on how you define significance.  There are seemingly fewer minutes in the day.  There are seemingly fewer days in the year.  I remember when the two months of summer break felt like a decade and the school year felt like a lifetime.  But now, with only two short weeks left in the boy’s kindergarten year, it seems like only yesterday we had our first meeting with his new teacher.  Like only a week ago, he was gone to his dad’s for the summer.  And in the blink of an eye, he will be back there again for this summer.  Part of me, I suppose the more selfish part, is looking forward to his (and my) vacation.  I will still see the girl as normal, but I won’t have child or children around every day.  That part of me looks forward to me time.  That part of me looks forward for the opportunity to do what I want, rather than what is expected of me.  That part of me looks forward to shucking off a good portion of responsibility, even if it is only for a short while.  But the rest of me dreads his departure as one might dread the amputation of a limb.  As I dread each and every time I have to say goodbye to one of my children.  More often with the girl, but in no way less painful.  You’d think I would have gotten used to the idea by now.  I’ve been saying temporary goodbyes to one or both of my children since the boy was a year old and his father “decided” to be a father.  Granted, there isn’t the stream of tears that once followed his departure, even if only for a weekend.  At least not an outward display of them.  But there is still the inconsolable pain of loss in my heart.  Thankfully this gradual shortening of time does make their times away seem slightly less “significant,” if not any less painful. 

But really, why does time shorten as years on the planet lenghten?  I remember when an 8 hour day was more than sufficient to finish any project I decided to take on.  In my mind it still is.  But in reality, 8 hours is a drop in the bucket.  In reality, I can lose an entire 8 hours to researching the compatibility of Rock Band and Guitar Hero games and equipment.  Or more recently, researching wedding invitations and photographers, only to not find a suitable option for either.  Apparently time has a cruel sense of humor.  The older I get, the more I have to accomplish, or alternately, the more I take on.  And the less time I seem to have.  Does this time-warp phenomenon only exist in my life, or is it universally true?  I could have sworn it was only 10am five minutes ago.  Only now I look at my clock and realize I have less than an hour left at work.  Where did the day go? 

It might be different if I accomplished something every now and again.  Or even if I just sat, but had incredibly prolific thoughts all day.  But no.  I simply maintain.  I maintain a household, barely.  I maintain a couple children, most of the time.  I maintain a functioning body and mind, sort of.  Even my maintaining is lacking in accomplishment, and I swear it’s because I just don’t have the time to do it right!  10 years ago, I could get things done, done well, and still have time to party all night and do it all again in the morning.  15 years ago I could write an impressive 10 page report in a couple hours.  And 20 years ago, days seemed like they would never end. 

Today?  Today I accomplished nothing.  Today I will feel hurried and tired all day.  Today the sun will go down before I realize the time.  Today I will go to bed exhausted, far to late, and dread tomorrow as I fall asleep.  And in two weeks I will have all the time in the world, yet will accomplish nothing with it.  And two months later, the boy will come home. The school year will start anew.  And life will keep on trucking at far to fast a pace, leaving me gasping for breath until the end.  How very depressing it all is.

Happy New Year!

So I’ve been slacking on, like, everything.  Seriously.  EVERYTHING.  And I need to stop.  I can make a buh-gillion excuses as to why I’ve been slacking, but it all comes down to this: 

I’m still slacking. 

And it needs to stop.

So my New Year’s resolution?  To stop slacking, of course!  I know, I know.  There is all the well-intentioned advice out there about not making vague resolutions.  “Be specific and you are more likely to succeed,” they say.  Well, “they” aren’t me, so…yeah.  Besides, I can be specific in my Ways Of Not Slacking, or WONS for short.  You know, like “wins” but in the past tense so it’s like I’ve already won.  Positive thinking at its best!

My things to end the slack on, or WONS:

• Smoking.  I need to stop the slack on quitting smoking.  Nuff said.
• Medicine.  I need to stop the slack on my meds.  I’ve been so busy trying to pretend I’m not sick that I’ve all but given up on all my “feel better” supplements and stuff.  And guess what?  I’m not feeling any better!
• Organization and planning.  I need to stop the slack on being organized.  There is one more class until I graduate, a move, and a wedding in my near future and if I’m going to get it all done without landing in the loony bin, I’m going to have to do some serious brushing up on those O and P skills.
• Speaking of the wedding.  I need to stop the slack on wedding planning.  With the recent addition of my dear friend and maid-o-honor, C, to my locale, the wedding planning, or lack there of, has been coming up in conversation a lot.  9 months, no budget set, no venue, no dress, no plans.  oops.  Well, at least I know the colors…maybe…possibly…
• Sleeping.  I need to stop the slack on my sleep.  I should be getting at least 8 hours.  It would be better if I got 9 or 10, under my present health condition.  I’m lucky if I give myself 6.  It’s gotta stop! 
• Name change.  I need to stop the slack on changing my name.  While I won’t be changing my name to “Mrs. W” when we get married, I should probably complete the name change process from my last marriage, which officially ended, oh, about 9 months ago. 
• Nutrition.  I need to stop the slack on good nutrition.  My kids need it.  I desperately need it.  Mr. W needs it.  Healthy food makes for healthy, happy bodies, makes for healthy, happy minds, makes for healthy, happy people.  I can do it…and so I must.
• Me.  I need to stop the slack on me.  I need to stop doing the things that make me feel like crap (smoking, not resting enough, getting behind on everything, eating like crap) and start doing things that make me feel good (supplements, acupuncture, massage, exercise, meditation, eating and sleeping well…hell, even getting a pedicure if it will make me sit and rest for an hour!) 

It’s a full circle.  If I can concentrate on the little bits, the overall picture will get better.  If I can work on me, all those around me will reap the rewards.  A rested mommy wants to play more.  A happy fiancee d0esn’t bite your head of for little no reason.  An emotionally sound friend can be there when you need her.  A healthy daughter can save leave for vacations and visits instead of using it on sick days. 

The guilt of how I’ve been treating my loved ones weighs heavily on me.  The guilt of how I’ve been treating myself does too.  If I can stop the slack, just one small thing at a time, the “WONS” will really be WON!

I’ve been playing hooky from my blog lately.  Not exactly sure why.  Maybe I’m tired of whining about how I feel.  Maybe I’m having some guilt about blogging when there are a MILLION other things I should be doing that I’m just not.  Maybe I’m being lazy.  Whatever it is, maybe I’m over it.  Maybe I’m not. 

So how do I feel I (don’t) hear you ask.  Well.  Lyme disease sucks.  It really does.  Physically, I have more bad days than good days.  There is pain, pretty much everywhere.  Some days it’s not so bad.  Some days it’s excruciating.  Think of a body part…yeah, it hurts there too.  So that’s fun.  Also, there is the “floaters,”  the harmless little black lines and spots everyone has in their eyes from time to time.  Only, mine are multiplying like horny rabbits and are always there.  Seriously, the words on my computer screen are dancing right now.  It makes reading anything very difficult.  And a new addition to the eye thing: now there are white, or bright spots along with the black spots.  It must be similar to what celebrities see after being flashed with a thousand flashbulbs on a regular basis.  My ears, constantly ringing.  Constantly.  It’s like after going to a really good rock concert, only I don’t get the perk of actually going to a really good rock concert.  It makes me very sensitive to sounds.  Annoying sounds are that much more annoying.  Loud sounds are that much louder and more grating.  Even whisper sounds drive me nuts.  I’m seriously craving a sensory deprivation chamber right about now, but all my problems are internal, so that probably wouldn’t work anyway.  I’m nauseous, and my appetite fluctuates between famished and I never want to eat again.  I almost always have a headache.  At the moment (I think) I am developing a nasty cold, since I’m stuffy about 50% of the time and there is a golfball-sized lump where my left lymph node should be in my neck.  My hands and feet swell randomly.  I’m tired and achy when I wake up in the morning, every morning.  After my shower (at $5 per shower thanks to needing a 6×6 tagaderm patch just to take a shower…gift ideas anyone?) and coffee, I am fairly awake for about 2 hours, then back to sheer exhaustion until I finally make it to bed at night.  I have cotton mouth pretty much all the time thanks to the pain meds, which don’t full work.  I get horrible stomach and muscle cramps thanks to the antibiotic infusions every 12 hours.  And now I’m on ADHD meds for the severe memory lapses and brain fog, so who knows what kind of side effects that will bring.  The antibiotics are also bringing about all the “normal” antibiotic side effects: candida, indigestion, digestive issues, upset stomach, etc, etc.  Probiotics are holding it off to a tolerable level, but then that just adds another couple pills a day to choke down.  Yea! 

Then there is the emotional stuff.  Long term pain = depression, of some sort or another.  I’m cranky most of the time, which I very unfairly take out on Mr. W (who is taking this all very well considering) and my kids, unfortunately.  (If only the ex-men would call more often to take the brunt of the crank!)  I’m feeling extremely unattractive, undesirable, un-everything thanks to a new, very short hair cut that I’m really  not liking (the showering thing, it only made sense to make my “getting ready” routine as easy as possible),  the bloat/weight gain that makes it difficult and uncomfortable to get dressed in anything but sweats, and, oh yeah, there’s the 4 inch long tube sticking out of my chest, just above my left boob, which requires wearing a sports bra to bed every night, and I’m already pretty flat in that area.  Like I need the extra compression.  My upper body has become a no fly zone, and with my flat-chested sports bra “lingerie” and my extremely short hair, I’m feeling more an more like a boy in the bedroom.  Not so great for the “mood,” at least on my part anyway.

Aren’t you glad you asked? 

Beyond the Lyme, I’m prepping for Christmas, which incidentally will be held over New Years in my house as the kidlets are with their dads this year.  Money is tight, but on-line shopping has provided me with some fantastic deals over the last couple months.  Yea for being proactive in something. 

Mr. W got a new job, starting just after Christmas.  Fortunately it’s like a 40% pay raise and in the field he loves.  Unfortunately, his office is about a 1 1/2 hour commute each way, even with public transportation, and his hours may be sporadic due to the type of work he will be doing.  So he won’t be home much during the week.  But we will be moving somewhere near the middle in the early Spring, and hopefully his new connections up there will throw out some info on jobs in my field of work and then we can move all the way up there.  I’m not planning on changing jobs any time soon…well at least until after I A) graduate, also early spring, and B) get the tube out of my chest and resolve all of my health issues.  “Nice to meet you on my first day of work.  By the way, I’m going to need to work a half day once a week so I can meet my home nurse, and I need at least 2 days off a month for doctors visits, and will probably average 1 other day off a week for just general sickness, and that doesn’t even touch any kid-related time off…thanks for the job.”  Yeah, I’m sure that would go over well with a new or potential employer. 

And speaking of new jobs, one of my best girlfriends is starting today at her new job, here, with me.  Yea!!  We met briefly in basic training (different squadrons there), and went on to Tech school together.  Although we were in different classes for the same career field, we had the same circle of friends and lived in the same hall.  We went to our first base together and managed to work out being roommates there.  Our friendship didn’t do so well in the dorm setting.  She was a party girl and I grew tired of that pretty fast as I was more interested in boys, and yes I do mean boys.  Looking back, I had pretty shitty taste in males!  I married ex #1, despite her loathing of him and warnings about him.  I even left her off the guest list to our wedding.    Anyway, we both eventually transferred and went on with our lives.  You know my story.  She went over-seas.  Grew up a lot.  Had a son.  Moved back stateside, and we reconnected about 5 years later, our friendship re-growing on a much more adult level.  Long story short, she was looking for more security for her and her boy, and my office was looking for more reliable new employees.  I introduced the two and wa-la.  She starts today.  All around, it’s great.  I have a close friend who is actually geographically close.  My kids and her son get along great, and they all have had a shortage of “at home” friends up to this point in their lives.  And she’s getting the security and benefits she needs for her and her son, while working decent hours.  I get a reliable, hard co-worker among a group of (mostly) assholes and slackers.  Win-win-win all around!

So that’s that.  I’m successfully dizzy from watching the letters dance on my screen, my fingers are starting to tingle from actually using them.  And I need a smoke and a coffee refill.  Oh, yeah, and I should probably get to at least one of those previously mentioned MILLION things I need to get done, like, yesterday.

Just in case I slack on the blog again for a while…

The so-called “honeymoon phase” of a relationship is a grand and wonderful thing.  Everything seems to fall away in the presence of, or even a mere thought of that new(ish) someone special.  One can easily pass hours, days, weeks without even realizing.  Time is easily filled with just being together.  *sigh* And how long does it last?  I guess it’s different for different people in different situations.  I suppose it could easily go on for years with a young couple in the prime of their lives and careers, with no kids or severe responsibilities.  When talking and love-making are all that’s really important. 

Someone recently told me “you can’t stop the Earth from spinning.”  It’s true.  You can’t.  I’ve tried.  Oh, to hold on to those honeymoon times forever.  To shed responsibility and live in the rapture that is new love.  It feels almost as if the Earth has stopped spinning for those moments…almost.  But in the end it all comes back into focus in jarring reality.  Life does in fact go on, and responsibilities still sit at your door and wait for you, no matter how long it takes for you to come out. 

Mr. W and I have a fantastic relationship.  In the beginning, we were fully enchanted with the honeymoon stages of things.  Responsibilities fell away and things like sleep just didn’t feel important.  Of course, this was also before the boy started school and my kids were still on the 2 weeks here, 2 weeks there rotation, so, no, I did not totally cast off all responsibility for a piece of ass, thank you very much.  Anyway.  Right around the time we moved in together and he left for Iraq, all that slowing of the Earth on its axis snapped back with full force and we’ve been struggling to recover ever since. 

There are: kid issues, health issues (oh, my are there health issues!), a need for sleep that can’t be ignored, insomnia (on both our parts), schedules with my exes, schedules with his ex, schedules with work, schedules with family, pets, holidays, time off, sick time, working, college, schools, housework, yard work, financial issues, stresses from all sides, creative transportation arranging (i.e. carting kids here and there), doctors appointments for 6 different people, dentist appointments, braces, learning to drive, buying a car, buying a house, selling a house, moving, storing, decluttering, organizing, Christmas shopping, dinners, lunches, groceries, cooking, planning, exercising, not exercising, great intentions and epic fails…the list of life goes on and on…and on.

It all seems to have come at once, knocking us square on our asses, struggling to regain our footing in the world, that damn spinning world.  But we are doing it together.  We are side by side in all of it, helping each other get a foothold here, dragging each other down as we slip there, but together through it all.  In the end, what more could you really ask for? 

I don’t think a successful relationship can be judged purely on happiness.  Seriously.  No one, no one in the world is 100% happy 100% of the time.  It’s not possible.  Unless they secretly found a way to stop the Earth from spinning and are happily living in one of their moments of happiness, but I highly doubt it.  The glory of life is it’s ups and downs.  How can you possibly know how good things are now if they’ve never been bad?  How can you know true happiness if you’ve never felt sadness?  How can you  know the true height of joy if you’ve never seen the true depth of despair?  Good and evil must coexist in order to be, so how could the same not hold true to the other pairs?  Mr. W and I have both been to the lowest of lows and have come out the other side fully ready to appreciate the high that is us.  We’ve had heartbreak and have mended each other’s hearts.  We’ve had despair and brought tears of joy to each other’s eyes.  We’ve been broken and have worked to put each other back together again.  That’s just how we roll. 

The best of the best?  We are just there.  Through the hard and the bad and the sad and the stressing, we are there.  No time in our relationship (so far) has been harder than now.  But we are still there.  All those things I listed above, all those responsibilities and “problems,”  yeah, we’ve got them.  Even without the added external stresses (kids, jobs, schools, etc, etc) we have quite literal “shit” going on just with us, or more to the point, me.  My Lyme disease = pain (physical for me, emotional for him), moodiness on both sides, stress, worry, and more stress, financial difficulty (yeah, doctors’ bills.  Gotta love ‘em!), and limits in just about everything, and really, who likes having limits?  But he’s there.  He’s here.  He stands by me.  Yes, sometimes he has trouble accepting his role of stand-next-to-er and tries to do that man thing of trying to fix everything.  But he’s working on that.  I can see where it’s hard to be helpless in all this.  To witness so much pain and suffering and not be able to do a thing about it.  I understand. 

And he tries. 

And we do it all together.  As best friends, as lovers, as soul-mates, as the most wonderful us we can be.  Together. 

******************************************************************************************************************************************************** 

I’m getting my chest port/Groshong catheter put in on Friday morning.  I’m freaking the hell out!  He quit smoking already, for me, and for him, and for me.  He said he finally has a reason to want to live a long healthy life.  All together now: *awwww*    I’m quitting too, although not as abruptly, or successfully.  But it’s hard to quit when you are freaking the hell out about something less than a week away.  He gets it without my explanation.  He accepts my weakness and loves me still.  Would you still love me if I were 400lbs?  Would you still love me if I lost all my hair?  Will you still love me when I’m old?  Will you still love me with a 4″ long tube sticking out of my chest? 

Of course he will.  And I call him Mr. Wonderful!

I’m having so many issues dealing with the boy lately.  Well, we, as in the couple-y we, are having issues dealing with the boy.  He is whiny and disrespectful and totally ignores everything we say, repeat, scream-at-the-top-of-our-lungs.  He fights constantly over everything.  Eating, sleeping, getting dressed, brushing his teeth, getting in the car, getting out of the car, putting his coat on, putting his shoes on, drinking water, juice, milk, soda (yeah, I don’t give him soda but his dad does.  That’s where the fight comes from).  It NEVER. ENDS.  EVER. 

Yesterday I smacked him in the shower.  It was ridiculous.  I swear he was doing (or not doing) everything he possibly could to piss me off.  I swear he was doing it on purpose.  Ok, yes.  I realize he is 5 going on 6 and probably (definitely) doesn’t have thoughts that complex and vindictive.  But at 6 am, after days, weeks, months of fighting and yelling and threatening, it just really seems that way.  And at dinner last night, we took a trip to the bathroom to discuss what was and was not going to happen for the rest of the night.  It sort of worked.

I am battling within myself with all of this.  I am a daddy’s girl through and through, and I can’t help but draw from the parenting I received as a child.  My dad’s way of thinking goes something like this:  I am the parent and you are the child. Period.  You don’t argue with a child.  There is no option.  The parent talks and the child listens and obeys.  Failing that, the parent makes the child listen, even if it takes some additional “punctuation” to get the point across.  My visits to the bathroom with my dad were much less about talking and much more about punctuation, not-so-fondly referred to as “boot therapy.”  It’s just the way things were.  My dad gave it to me much kinder than he received from his father.  My grandfather was more of the closed-fist punch  now, oh, yeah, and no talking later.  I’ve heard that I was the first child he ever hugged…or smiled at…  He had 4 of his own.

I don’t want to spank my kids.  I’ve fought the urge with (mostly) success.  Mostly.  But some days, more often lately, it’s just, difficult.  How do you convince a 5 year old to listen?  It’s not as if you can use logic.  It’s not as if they will just trust that you know what’s best.  There is threatening, but even that comes up empty in the end.  What can I take, what can I do, how do I punish, or even better, how do we get past this to avoid any need for punishment in the first place? 

• Time outs: don’t work.  They sit, and then they get up and seem to forget those 4, 5, 6 minutes even happened. 
• Grounding: doesn’t work.  (see above).  Plus I hate it.  Ground one kid and the whole family loses from it.  No excursions.  No playing.  No fun. 
• Taking things that are precious:  doesn’t work.  (see above again)  Plus there is always something else to play with.  In a pinch, my kids can play with a sock and a pencil for hours.  They are just creative that way.

Obviously yelling and screaming doesn’t do anything.  It makes for tears and bad feelings, usually on the part of all parties involved.  And then it just happens again.  And spanking.  Just not an option.  When I’m in a pinch, I can usually use my words and logic to get the point across, to get someone to agree with me and do as I say.  Yeah, not so much with the kids.  So what is left? 

And the whole thing is draining.  I’m tired.  Mr. W is tired.  The boy is tired.  We are cranky.  We are stubborn.  We are not thinking clearly.  It all snowballs on itself, day after day after week after month.  We are being slowly crushed under the weight of the massive, growing snowball.  It just sucks.  It feels like we can’t even dig ourselves out at this point.  It feels like spring will never come to melt some of this weight.  It feels, bad.  All relationships are suffering.  Mr. W and I are fighting.  The boy wants to trade Mr. W in for a cat.  The boy thinks I don’t love him because he’s bad, no matter how many times I tell him I do, more than anything in the world I do.  Mr. W thinks the boy doesn’t like him, and the cat thing doesn’t help.  I’m trying to balance my relationship with the two men in my life while simultaneously balancing their relationship as a pseudo-go-between for them.  It’s all just so very draining. 

Help?

I’m sitting here feeling generally tired, achy and altogether crappy after an unnaturally long day that I don’t even want to go into at the moment.  I’m watching “Marley and Me” for the very first time with the boy, fully aware that 1) he won’t keep his mouth shut for more than 3.2 seconds regularly, which jumps to a shocking 1.5 seconds any time there is anything on tv that I actually want to watch, and 2) the movie is sad and I will probably end up crying by the end…or rather trying not to cry in front of the boy while totally wanting to cry because it’s just been that kind of day, week, month…

Anyway, completely frustrated, I’m sitting here and the boy sticks his finger in my face for like the millionth time, while yapping about something or another, for the trillionth time, and I pushed his hand away and scolded him before I realized what he was saying.  He then turned to me and said the following:

“I really like you, mommy.  You are the best mommy in the whole world.  That’s why I was singing “Best of You” to you just now.”

Yes, it’s confirmed.  I’m a total ass.  Total. Ass.

And then, to top it off, this:

Me: “You think so, huh?”

The boy: “I don’t think so, I know so.”

Yep.  Even more ass-like.  But my boy loves me, so hey, I can’t be that bad, right?

Positive thoughts. Positive thinking. Positive intentions. Positive crap?  I don’t know.  I’m feeling rather blah right about now.  I’ve done all the right things and yet, still struggling.  I wear the right clothes.  Dress for the job you want, not for the job you have.  I say the right things.  Correction does much but encouragement does more.  I think the right thoughts.  It will all work out in the end.  I try to think positive, speak positive, be positive, and yet, here I am.  I sit at work, well-dressed, and pounding away at my blog in frustration. 

Things get better, things get worse.  Moods get higher, moods get low. 

Wednesday Mr. W was stressing about life, I think.  Schedules and need-to-dos and stress itself was stressing him out.  I tried to calm him, make him see it really wasn’t all that bad, be positive, say the right words.  I think it worked, and Friday, we, as a family, had a great day.  We went to the fair.  Ate lots of junk.  Won prizes (including two more immortal fair-fish).  Saw baby pigs race. Watched (and smelled) stinky farm animals.  It was a good day.  We rounded it out with an evening at home with three of the four children.  Saturday he left for drill…and my children turned into assholes.  Yep, I said it: ASSHOLES!! 

Why is it that it takes exactly THREE times being told for my children to do something.  ALWAYS THREE TIMES!  Not one (which is the ideal), not two, not four, not fifteen.  THREE.  WHY?  Not listening.  Saying the same word or making the same noise over and over and over and over AND OVER again.  Fighting with each other.  Fighting with me.  Bossing everyone around.  Making demands.  Fussing when demands aren’t met.  Yeah, this went on for THE.  ENTIRE.  WEEKEND.  After the fair, and a movie (Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs…in 3D…absolutely awesome!) and nothing but fun and spoiling for two days!  So Sunday morning I made them get up and clean the house.  Yes, I made my 4 and 5 year old clean my house.  That’s just how I roll.  Unfortunately (as it was meant for punishment) and fortunately (as I would rather them have fun with laughter and smiles any day) they thoroughly enjoyed cleaning, so, yeah… AND, the girl, still in the final stages of potty training: overnights, wet her bed both Friday and Saturday night.  That, for those of you who don’t know, meant four loads of laundry right there (two times for the comforter, two times for the sheets and waterproof bed cover thingy).  Not regular laundry either.  Stinky, pee laundry.  Not to be combined with anything else laundry.  Extra long wash times in extra hot water laundry.  Big bulky blanket laundry that takes longer to dry.  So a total of 5 hours, per day, tied up in her bed clothes.  Yeah, the regular laundry did NOT get done…so shoot me. 

Mr. W was home again Sunday afternoon.  I was still a bit cranky from the weekend FROM HELL and probably took it out on him.  Although I can’t imagine I would EVER do something so hideous…  Apparently we were fighting when we went to bed last night.  Something about dirty socks being inside out and an annoyingly squeaky spot in the floor.  I guess I missed it.  But he’s still mad at me.  Weird.  Frustratingly weird.  So frustratingly weird that my intentions to get a jump start on my homework (yep, started another class today) are all dashed over the rocks of frustrating weirdness, being beat down further by blah and negativity.

Why is it everytime I think I’m in a good place, with good intentions, with a positive outlook on life, SOMETHING (fate, God, the Universe, whatever!)  HAS TO GO AND SMACK ME UPSIDE THE HEAD WITH A FREAKING SLEDGEHAMMER TO LET ME KNOW JUST WHERE MY PLACE IN LIFE ACTUALLY IS: AT THE FREAKING BOTTOM, APPARENTLY!?   

So in the middle of trying to be positive, to stay ahead, to plan painting and packing and purchasing a house, to be organized, to avoid the stress and struggle, to get done, be done, to just find happiness… I’m, no we’re struggling and stressing (and apparently fighting) and being so freaking negative we are probably walking around backwards.

This Saturday I will be taking the kids to the girls fourth birthday party.  Yes, she reached 4 years of age two weeks ago, but this will be the fourth time she is celebrating it.  She had a family party with ex#2 and his family the weekend following her actual birthday, in conjunction with ex#2′s birthday which was the following Monday.  She had a party at pre-school that Friday.  She had a party at my house last Saturday.  And she’s having another one, with friends and all this Saturday.  And you best believe she received presents at the last three, with more to come.  Yes, divorce is rough on kids, but there are some serious perks!

The boy’s birthday falls just 2 days before Christmas and with my two divorces in his life, he basically gets to celebrate and receive gifts for like a month and a half.  He has Christmas with me, with his dad (ex#1) and his family, and with ex#2 and his family.  We are all in agreement that he shouldn’t get cheated on the whole birthday thing just because he was born so close to Christmas, so he also gets three birthday celebrations, complete with specific birthday gifts, not to ever be combined with Christmas gifts.  Now that he is in school, I’m sure there will be more celebrations of birthday and Christmas in his near future.  That’s eight gift-giving occasions in the month of December.  Nice!  (Of course the girl gets her two Christmases every year as well.) 

I am dreading the day that the kids consciously figure out that they can (attempt to) pit all us grown-ups against each other.  Seriously dreading.  The boy has Mr. W and me, his dad and me, his dad and Mr. W, his dad and ex#2, ex#2 and me, and on rare occasion I’m sure, Mr. W and ex#2 to work on so far.  Add in his dad’s girlfriend, if she sticks around, and any future Ms. ex#2 and that a whole bunch of conflict he can bring on all of us if we’re not careful.  With that many people competing for your affection, the possibilities are endless!  The girl doesn’t have any connection to ex#1, but that still leaves her with plenty of drama to cause.  Plus she has the added bonus of an over-involved aunt (and possibly soon-to-be uncle) and over bearing grandparents with their own ideas of child spoiling rearing.  With all the pre-existing differences of opinion on the hows and whats of being parental-types, the kids are going to have a field day working it all to their advantage.  My only hope is that we can at least start reading from the same book by then as I have a feeling being on the same page is just not going to happen.  And I married these men!  What was I thinking?

Why do we get involved with people who are so clearly different?  How can we possibly imagine it will all just work out?  I actually remember telling myself that.  ”It will all work itself out in the end.  We will be fine.  We will be happy, perfect parents.”  Yeah.  Fat chance!  I can’t really speak for the younger, less experienced, just plain dumber me of the days when I “fell in love” with these men, but the me I know today has ABSOLUTELY NOTHING IN COMMON with them.  (Except of course for the kids.)  We don’t think the same.  We don’t like the same things.  We don’t have the same beliefs.  We don’t run in the same social circles.  We don’t have the same goals.  We don’t have the same parenting styles.  We don’t have even similar hopes for our kid’s futures!  Thank the stars I found Mr. W.  I thought a relationship and a marriage and parenting was something that had to be constant work to even hope for success.  I realize now I was sorely and thankfully mistaken.  When you have distinct similarities the “work” just falls away.  We aren’t exactly the same.  That would just be annoying.  And a little creepy.  But we are at least in the same general area on most things.  Different enough to allow for healthy conversation, but similar and mutually respectful (← very very VERY important!) enough to come to some common ground in the end.  There are many moments that we think or say the exact same thing at the exact same time.  (Its cute really.    We call them our “soul mate” moments.  Cheesy, I know.  But show me a relationship without a little cheese and I’ll show you a relationship that just isn’t fun!)  But there are also moments when we see things differently but are able to have adult discussions on the best course of action to deal with such differences.  I know that sounds like “work” right there, but really, there are many more moments of cheese than there are of difference.  And I am so thankful.  That’s why I call him Mr. Wonderful!

Another thing that divorce brings to my kids life is variety.  Most kids grow up with a solid foundation of how things should be based on how things are in their youth.  They have one basic example around them and they tend to follow in that footprint, whatever it may be, right or wrong or indifferent.  There is that whole argument on Nature vs. Nurture that I don’t even want to get into, but you have to admit, those little spongy people just suck up what’s around them and usually continue the trends throughout their own adult lives.  My kids have several, vastly different environments and mentalities and ways of being to sponge from.  On one hand, this may end up totally confusing for them in the end, which would suck.  But my hopes (and true belief) is that the variety will provide them with a much richer bank to pull from.  They will be able to see, and experience several different ways of being, in relationships and in life.  They will be able to form their own opinions on what works and what doesn’t and come up with a mosaic that works for them.  They will be more educated on the sociology of life (at least parts of life) without ever knowing it.  They will take part in a larger spectrum of experiences as they pass from one group of people to another and back again.  I have high hopes for my children, and I am thankful that despite my failures they may actually come out the other end all the better. 

Or they’ll be totally confused.  Which as I said, would suck.

I’ve been itching for something more, not even lately, but forever.  It’s not that I would ever act on the itch, or that I’m not happy with what, or more specifically who I have, but there is the itch, nonetheless. 

I think about my childhood.  I was the kid who traveled the world, literally.  I had flown around the world 3 times by the time I was 16.  I had lived in England and visited several other countries before I even hit my teen years.  I could speak Chinese when I was 5, and I could understand just about any accent latched on to English, no matter how thick. 

In high school I was dreaming about adventure and grandeur.  I was not ready to settle in any area of my life.  I had a hard time deciding what I wanted to do with my life, not for lack of ambition, but rather for the multitude of options the world offered me.  But in my arrogance, I turned my nose up to so many opportunities… –Modeling in Japan, all expenses paid?  Medical school of my choice, tuition paid?  Traveling the world for a living?  Language school in Monteray, California, followed by two years in Paris? –

Even after I joined the military, my dreams were still in world travel and adventure.  My career was supposed to take me to new places, show me new things, give me new stories.  So how did I become the ex-military, divorcee mom living in a town (not a city, but a TOWN) in the US, rarely leaving my state?

Social networking sites like Facebook, Myspace, and Twitter have opened doors for keeping up with those you would have normally lost along the way.  I follow many of my old school-mates, mostly just dropping in to see what they are doing, and I’m jealous.  My best friend in 8th grade is working in China right  now, but her job has taken her all over the world.  A close friend from 9th grade has pictures of Israel and Jerusalem and France and who knows where else filling his virtual albums.  A friend from most of high school just got married, in Spain, in a beautiful Cathedral and several of our other friends were there with her, and she’s now living in Tunisia.  I have friends who graduated from MIT, Cornell, Harvard, Berkley, Stanford, and  NYU, not to mention ones who have gone to college in Europe, all landing fabulous jobs right after.  I have friends who are successful entrepreneurs, growing their dream businesses from nothing to fruitful.  I have friends in most of the major cities in the US, and some of the biggest business and cultural meccas around the world.  They consist of lawyers and doctors and international businessmen and women and engineers and peace corps workers and professional bicyclists and actors and researchers and bank vice presidents and people that work for the Department of State and Amazon.com and .  What the hell happened to me?  And this is why I did not attend my high school reunion…

Many people say things like:  “I can’t imagine life without my kids,” or “I don’t know what I would do without my kids.”  Well, I can and I do.  Does that make me a bad person?  I love my kids unconditionally.  I adore my kids completely.  If given the choice now, I wouldn’t give them up for anything.  And they do make me happy.  But I can still imagine what my life would be like if I had never turned down that road of marriage and mommy-hood.  Well, I can at least imagine myself nestled deeply in each of the few dozen options that the world would once again lay before me. 

I would learn to surf, while living a simple life in a crappy shack on the beach, making next to nothing, but needing even less.  Just me and nature, coming together…

I would see the world, taking pictures of all the beauty it holds, submitting things to publications like National Geographic, needing nothing but some good shoes and my camera…

I would learn to cook, dedicate my time and money to the best culinary school around, working hard to make it through a grueling kitchen while mastering cuisine from around the world…

I would spend months in an Ashram in India, finding my true self, away from the distractions of life…

I would study archeology, making discoveries about past and lost civilizations, finding priceless treasures in knowledge… 

I would finish school, finish grad school, and be anything I wanted to be…

I could help the world…

Of course, I would travel, see everything I’ve always wanted to see, join in with different cultures in different places, revel in the beauty all around us, become a true person of the world, expand myself and my understanding in the world…

I would be me.  Not a mom.  Not simply an extension of another being.  Just me.  Free to do and think and be what I want without the fear of responsibility to another.  I do love my kids and I gladly walk away from my options to be with them now that they are here.  But if they’d never been…

Today the boy is belt testing for his white belt in Tae Kwon Do!  I’m such a proud mama.  Ok, yeah, I realize everybody gets their white belt, but it’s still a big deal.  I mean, it’s a big deal for him in his mind, so it’s a big deal for me, and by virtue of you reading these words it has to be a big deal for you.  Of course everyone I tell has to go and point out the fact that everyone just gets a white belt, no actual skill needed.   You know, basically peeing all over my proud mama moment.  Even Mr. W made the comment that this is what ex#1 was objecting to, it is kind of a crock.  Yeah, it’s bad juju when your fiancee is agreeing with your ex in contradiction to you.  Bad juju indeed!  That must be why I’m feeling like crap today.  Seriously.  It’s connected.  I just know it.

On a high note, I feel like regular crap, not Lymie crap (or is it Lymee, or perhaps Lymey, or simply Lymi…my English ancestors are totally rolling in their graves right now!).  Anyway.  I’ve got a head cold (not the earlier hoped for reaction to 8 lbs of dust inhalation) that is undoubtedly going to slide down into a chest cold.  But that is normal.  Except for the extremely hot summer that is still going on… so I’m feeling positive about feeling like crap in this particular case.  Not in pain, at the moment.  And not incredibly tired, so that’s all good.  But the doc is convinced I should still feel like crap, so I’m sure this is all short lived.  Way to go doc.  Even if I was feeling better you have successfully convinced my twisted mind that something should be wrong so something will invariably feel wrong very soon.  Thanks.  All this after 2 hours of waiting room action. Nice.  Seriously, if he weren’t so super nice, and the best Lyme doc in the area, I would totally have to move on.  2 hours people!  That’s just craziness!

In other thoughts:

• I’m really missing Mr. W right now.
• I hate breathing through my mouth.  Ewww, I’m a creepy mouth-breather!
• I can’t type to save my life right now.  Seriously, it took me eleven tries to complete this sentence.
• My best bud at work is on vaca so I’m totally lonely here now.
• And even though breathing is enough of a chore right now, I’m still a dumbass who’s smoking.

And there you have it!  My peed-on mama pride, combined with the mucus in my chest and head apparently blocking the oxygen to my brain, combined with the cold medicine I took this morning that totally isn’t working, combined with the umpteen other chemicals/supplements/medicines that I take daily, combined with the leftover buzz of last night’s NyQuil (yeah, I’m a total light-weight.  What?  It doesn’t have alcohol in it anymore you say?  Well, that’s just how much of a lightweight I am!), combined with my probable Lymie (Lymy, Lymey, Lymee…) brain-fog that I’m just too gone to notice has left me in a place that is totally random, ramble-y, and pretty much useless.  Yea, me!