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.

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. 

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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!

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.

The boy is signed up for Tae Kwon Do for the school year and yesterday I took him to the Dojang to pick up his uniform.  When he walked in, his eyes simply lit up as he spied all the trophies and medals that decorate the office area.  (He has a thing for trophies at the moment.  Ok, cyber-trophies on his plethora of video games, but trophies nonetheless.)  I initially signed him up in hopes that his I can’t attitude would be adjusted, as well as to give him a much needed boost to his self-confidence.  He is a shy, sensitive sort of kid, quiet and reserved around anyone he isn’t completely familiar with.  That and he has no athletic prowess whatsoever.  Seriously.  To watch the boy run is completely comical, bordering on just sad.  I honestly think he walks faster than he runs.  Really. 

So I signed him up for the before-and-after care program that includes transportation to and from school, help with homework, and a 1 1/2 hour class daily.  He’s excited, for now, and so am I.  Of course, now the girl wants to go too.  Yeah, sorry chica.  Totally not going to happen, ever. 

The girl does cheerleading.  Not by my influence at all, but her by father (and aunt and grandmother and grandfather…).  Ex#2′s mom runs/owns a gym and her main focus is all-star cheer.  That’s all well and good, and her teams are absolutely fantastic.  The girl enjoys it, sort of, and it’s a good activity for her, I guess.  But cheerleading just isn’t her.  She lacks the focus or willingness to do the routines, and since she is the granddaughter, none of the coaches push her.  Beyond that, cheerleading doesn’t match her normal level of activity.  Unlike the boy, she is constantly going.  Climbing, jumping, dancing, running, just moving freely.  The girl never stops.  Ever.  There is too much down time and stillness in cheerleading.  Too much structure.  Plus she’s a little rough-and-tumble.  Gymnastics may be a better fit, but I worry about her age with that.  Dance would work, but they don’t offer it there.  And martial arts would be perfect, but, alas, things such as that don’t fit into ex#2′s image of his perfect little princess.

Ex#2 has already planned out her life.  From birth he has insisted on dressing her in nothing but pink, frilly dresses, despite her affinaty for dirt and falling down (on any given day she has at least 2 bruises somewhere on her body and more than a couple scrapes/scabs).  He put her in competative cheer with the idea that she will continue through high school (that’s 14 years from now), pick up a cheer scholarship to a local university, go to law school and be a DA.  Have I mentioned she’s 3 (well, almost 4)??  He pays zero attention to who she is and what she wants and is intent on forcing her into this little mold that represents what he thinks a woman should be: long haired, big busted (yes, he has articulated this specifically), quiet and reserved, perfectly-pressed-black-skirt-and-white-collared-shirt wearing, fancy-leather-seated-car driving District Attorney.  While she may turn out to be just that in the end, it’s not who she is today, at 3 years old.  For that matter, it’s not who she has been yet.  Today she is a tom-boy.  Today she likes to run and climb and jump and fall.  Today she likes motorcycles and big trucks.  Today she is enamoured with Star Wars (yea!) and Transformers.  Today she wants to do Tae Kwon Do with her brother.  Today she wants her hair cut short because it just gets in her way.  Today she wants to dress herself in pants and skirts and T-shirts with robots on them that totally don’t match.  Today she wants to sing and dance.  She just wants to be her which is totally annoying to him, but to me, there is absolutely nothing wrong with that!

My kids couldn’t be more different.  While I have dreams of what they could be and ideas of what they “should” be, I do my damnedest every day to keep those ideas to myself and let them just be.  Ex#2, not so much.  Even ex#1 has his moments with the boy, but not nearly as bad.  And you think it’s bad with the girl?  With the boy it’s worse!

• The boy got a mohawk, because he wanted a mohawk.  Ex#2 wouldn’t take him outside the house because he was too embarrassed and chastised the boy about his hair.  The boy is 5.
• The boy is a sensitive and peaceful soul and it’s not unusual for him to cry at the first sign of conflict or displeasure with him.  Ex#2 articulated that he thinks something is wrong with him.
• The boy plays with dolls, with his sister.  They play house and he plays the daddy and she plays the mommy.  Ex#2 insists he’s gay.

These are only a couple examples of 5 years of degrading comments and horrible judgements  made on my child.  Yeah, I really know how to pick them!  If there was a way to get him completely out of both my children’s lives, I would do it, immediately.  I don’t blame him entirely as I know how he and his sister grew up.  But I see who they have become (generally unhappy, insecure, and angry people with very low self-esteem who tend to prey on others to build themselves up) and I do not want that for my children.  That’s the biggest reason I left in the first place!

But for now, I’m working with the boy, attempting to help him build his self-esteem before anyone else can stomp on it.  As far as the girl, all I can do is support her for who she is as much as possible and hope her innate strength continues long enough to stand up to her father.  In all the hopes and dreams I have for my children, that their strength, independence, and self-worth hold strong is my number one wish. 

I know it’s been a bit, but I’ve been a very busy little bee over the last week…let me catch ya’ll up…

Well, Mom and Step-dad came and left early in the week.  They drove cross country to visit Florida, Virginia, then here for 4 days.  The kids came home for their two summer weeks with me the day before my parents arrived, so yeah, it’s been living on the fly for the last week.  Things are starting to calm a bit now, so I have time to catch up with stuff.  Namely by blog, my homework, my housework, my never-ending quest for organization…  Good news about the parental visit: they like Mr. W.  They really do.  It’s hard with the kids around to have a really good get to know you on an adult level set of conversations, but from what they see, they agree…he is wonderful!

I’ve been actively trying to quit smoking (yeah, I know I’ve said it before, but really, really trying now.)  I’m having trouble though with the nicotine patches.  They are about the only thing that keeps me from scratching my face off without smoking, but it never fails, the second day I put one on, whatever body part I apply it to (arm, shoulder, leg, hip…) gets this deep, radiating, throbbing pain that is literally unbearable!  I had one on all day Friday: no problems.  I put one on the opposite hip yesterday morning and 3 hours later, excruciating pain running down my right leg that I can still feel faint traces of now.  WTF, man?!  How am I supposed to quit if I can’t use any of the aids to help me quit??  Yes, I realize I could try the cold-turkey route, but seriously, with all the crap in my life…soooo not going to happen!

With the quitting smoking, and the back-up on my homework (yeah, 4 assignments behind) I’m doing my damnedest to enjoy my time with my kids.  I was away from the boy for 37 days total…and it sucked.  The girl had her normal visits, but it’s nice to have them both here together.  It’s like a double edged sword though…yeah, all you full time parents out there (some have verbalized this jealousy to me) think it’s great that I get some time alone, without worrying about the kids.  No doubt, it is.  I miss them terribly, but I do enjoy my time in quite solitude sometimes.  No external responsibility.  No schedule.  No screaming-fighting-yelling-mommying-arguing-blah-blah-blah…  Yeah, that part is nice.  Privacy and the ability to be adults for a night (read: go out to dinner/for drinks/whatever) is good for bonding with Mr. W.  It would be all well and good, except…

The ex-men don’t have the same parenting style as me…ok, that’s putting it very nicely.  They don’t have any freaking parenting style, unless you can count doing very little and letting your parents, who, of course are grand-parents with all the grand-parent allotted spoiling going on, do the parenting for you.  (Yeah, both still living with Mommy and Daddy.)  So when my kids get home, they rebel and struggle and all-in-all have a hard time adjusting back to my parenting style.  You know, one with rules and boundaries and schedules and healthy meals and minimal spoiling (ok, I spoil my kids, Mr. W especially spoils my kids…but not near to the level that their fathers by proxy of their grand-parents spoil my kids!).  So the sword is this:  If my kids were here all the time, we wouldn’t have this constant struggle.  They would know what is going on and what is expected of them and what they can expect at all times.  They would behave and know their boundaries.  We could spend time on enjoyable things rather than fighting.  We could spend time learning new things rather than reteaching old things.  It would be easier on them and easier on me as a whole.  But I wouldn’t get the time I so sorely need.  Time to study.  Time to do housework.  Time to relax.  Time to run errands.  Time for Mr. W.  Time for just me. Yeah…that’s about the story of my life…double edged swords all around.  No wonder I’m always covered in scrapes and bruises!

But, all in all, it’s been a nice week.  It was good to see my parents, of course.  And Mr. W took 2 days off work to get to know them, despite the earlier drama about taking time off.  We had some good family time…even his kids came along with us for one outing.    My mom and I didn’t start bickering until the end of day 3, so I figure 4 days is just perfect for us…you know, mothers and daughters!  The kids have been mostly well behaved.  Mr. W put a TV, DVD player, and a couple of the boy’s old gaming systems in his room, so the combination has kept them busy for a couple hours of the day since my parents left, allowing me the time to put a dent in the amount of housework and homework that is always looming.  The puppy has only peed and pooped in the house 3 times all weekend (new record) and is currently sleeping soundly at my feet.  Yeah…it could be worse!

Last night was better.  Granted, the girl was caught standing on the dining room table, jumping on a bed, and intentionally breaking one of the boy’s toys, but given the choice of screaming, defiant whininess and just regular 3 year old bad behaviour, I’ll take the latter every time.  At bed-time, she jumped right in, no arguements, and (presumably) went right to sleep.  Whether she did or not, there was  no pitter-pat of running (playing) feet, or talking, or fussing to note.  Score one for Mom!  Now let’s see how tonight plays out.

In blogging news, I’ve been crappy on here lately, but I intend to work on it.  I think I’ve forgotten what an outlet my blog has been for me in the past, and in neglecting it I’m also neglecting myself.  I have a tendency to hold things in until I just can’t anymore, resulting in volcanic erruptions of some sort of emotion or otherwise (not fun for anyone in my path).  I did update my set-up awhile back (you may have noticed the change to the blaring orange that now graces my page), but have done little productive since.  And, in case you are wondering, I am not a complete deviant…I intentionally spelled “peace” that way, its a play on words, see…  Of course, I messed with some other settings and now, according to the handy wordpress stats thingy, NO ONE reads my blog*.  I was admittedly a little bummed about that, until The Girl from the Ghetto graced one of my posts with a comment containing some fabulous money-saving ideas for my upcoming wedding.  So, obviously someone is reading…but now to figure out how to turn my tracker do-hicky back on…

Home life has been, well, home-life.  The stress of the kids 1) being whiny and defiant and 2) leaving soon for the summer has been weighing on our house-hold.  Mr. W is working on his “parenting” patience, and doing quite well actually.  It’s been 10 years since he’s had to deal with all the pain frustration stress joys of a 3 or 5 year old, so I do my best to cut him a little slack when it comes to joining in the parent parade.  Besides that, we do differ on some of our views when it comes to raising and ruling kids, so I allow him some leway on that lerning curve.    On top of the normal kid stuff, there are all the looming factors.  And the cherries?  Work, school (for us both), and life in general.  All in all we are holding things together pretty well.  No real fighting.  We are taking it all on on a united front, as far as I can tell. 

I am trying my damnedest to plan some sort of weekend getaway for just the two of us, though.  It’s been awhile since we have taken a trip together.  We used to quite often when we were still dating (granted there was more opportunity then).  We’ve done DC, the mountains, Philadelphia/Atlantic City (not our best trip, but hey), Detroit, and a little bit of Miami (before our family cruise).  I think it would help…but then there’s planning, financing, and pulling it all together sans stress…hmmm, wish me luck!

*hint, hint. If you are out there blogoverse, let me know it.  Send me a “hey how, ya doing,” or a comment…you know, whatever. 

I’m not the best at expressing my feelings.  The commonality in my various bouts with counselors has been that I 1) hold everything in too much, 2) desperately need to find a way to express those pent up feelings, and 3) if I don’t, I’m going to have a breakdown.  Mind you, this part-diagnosis has been steady since my first visit to a “professional” back when I was 14, for reasons having less to do with me and more to do with my parents’ concern with me after their (much needed) break-up. 

Last night I had an epiphany-like moment with Mr. W after a couple days of building on a fight.  And an explosion of emotion ensued.

I’m a cranky person at times.  Yesterday was particularly bad.  I had a rough day at work, entering conflicts with a couple of my resident assholes towards the end of the day.  Mr. W had plans with his kids, as he does every Wednesday, so I knew it was just me and mine after work.  And they started from the moment I picked them up. 

I’m the sort who needs a little downtime in the transition from work to home life.  Yesterday was a sore example of that.  I didn’t get it.  I tried, but it was Mommy-this, and Mommy-that from the moment I walked in the door of daycare, and it just multiplied from there.  By the time Mr. W got home, I had resigned to full on frustration and screaming (never a good moment for me) which of course led to guilt and more frustration over screaming.  He was at a loss at the situation, trying to avoid conflict, keep quiet, and help, although in the wrong way, but he tried. 

Kids in bed, the night went on fairly uneventfully, until we turned of LOST and decided to head to bed…and it started.  That tension.  That half-fighting thing we do so well.  The knowledge that he would not sleep, but instead creep out of bed once he thought I was asleep to head to the computer, leaving me to come find him at about 1130pm, pull a conversation out of him, and end up resolved and back to bed by 2am.  I wasn’t going to let that happen.  We climbed into bed and I made him talk.  And talk we did…and fight…and get frustrated and angry.  I tried to explain, he tried to explain, and we both spun up to  a place of no eye-contact and bitten tongues. 

He made a comment that I was punishing him for all the pent up anger that I don’t take out on the ex-men, and possibly a little for my dad.  He said it’s not fair, and I realized he was right on that note, but I wasn’t angry at anyone…or was I.

And then it happened, my epiphany.

I am angry.  I’m angry at the ex-men.  I’m angry at Mr. W.  I’m angry at just about everyone.  I’m angry because I am jealous.  It’s not fair.  I’m a mom.  I’m a single-mom and pretty much always have been.  Everything I do is for someone else.  My life is not my own.  I don’t get to make choices based on my wants or needs, it’s always about someone else.  First and foremost, my kids, then Mr. W, then my dad and my mom, then everyone else just falls in line.  I don’t get choices.  I don’t get to have anything that is just for me, just because that is what I want.  I don’t get a space, a thing that’s mine, an outlet, a time for me because all my spaces and things and times are wrapped up in someone else and it’s just not fair!  The ex-men have their parents to back them up at every turn, to support them and give them what they need when they need it, to give them whatever breaks they need or want whenever they may-possibly-in-th-sometime-near-future want it.  Mr. W gets his space in the basement, gets to go to the gym for his outlet, gets to work whenever he wants, gets to see his kids whenever he wants, or not hang out with them if that’s what he wants, to take classes and know he will have time to do his work.  No one else has to think of the kids first because it’s my responsibility to bear alone.  So, yes.  I am angry. 

In an effort to share my epiphany with Mr. W, the tears came like a torrent, wracking my body with forced words and ragged breathing.  The whole thing came spilling out of me, uncontrolled, like a volcanic eruption.  It’s like all that emotion and feeling I’d been holding in for however long all came rushing to the surface at once, unbridled and uncontrolled, leaving me struggling to even breathe. 

After my ragged explaination, he held me (the most perfect thing to do at that time…seriously, boys.  If she’s crying, don’t ever just sit there.  Hold her.  Even if she begins to push you away, hold her.) and the tears slowed.  My breath began to normalize again.  My tremors in my chest and body began to subside.  He loves me, completely, unconditionally, (even when I’m a little crazed with snot spewing from my nose) he loves me.

And I love him.  The night ended *ahem* nicely, twice.    And we slept, soundly.  This morning I felt refreshed, although physically a little tired.  My mind and my heart felt cleansed and new again.  Over coffee, he confirmed that he heard me, and that is good.  I love him, too.

*as in five-year-olds.  Ok, so that was pretty bad.

The boy has been taking us to hell and back with his mood swings lately.  I firmly believe it is a combination of a case of terrible -uh- fives, and a butt-ton of changes to his already topsy-turvy life.  Since the ripe old age of 10 months, he’s been shuffled back and forth between his dad and me, graduating to a two-week on/off schedule which began at about 2 years old.  Poor kid, although I must say he is always the most well behaved kid on the plane!  

My house and his dad’s house are very different environments to boot.  Polar opposites even.  I strive for peace in my home life.  Uncluttered (although not always succeeding at this one), respect of other’s speaking, listening, a generally lower noise level, organized schedules.  I think these things are important, especially when dealing with children, especially when dealing with my children who have far too much chaos in their lives as it is.  They need a place of calm, of comfort, of safety for their thoughts and emotions.  (Damn, I’m sounding very touchy-feely here…)  Both the ex-men’s houses are full of people, thus noise.  Plus, there is no respect for others’ talking.  I think this may be a side-effect to big families that I’ve never really experienced in my own childhood as I was an only child.  They all talk over one-another.  I guess the goal is to be louder so you are heard.  The result is just, well, noise.  The ex-men (and their parents…have I mentioned they are grown men, with kids, still living with mommy and daddy?)  don’t keep to any sort of schedule or basic structure.  Meals are whenever, however.  i.e. eat a bite, go play, come back for two more, etc, etc.  Naps may happen, or not.  Bedtime is whenever they a) pass out on the couch, or b) daddy wants to have some alone time with his girlfriend.  This bothers me to no end.

In recent months, the boy has started school, cut down severely on his back-and-forth between his now full-time home with me and his dad’s house, and Mr. W has come back into our lives, full time, in our home (Mr. W’s home, but you know what I mean).  It’s a lot for the boy’s 5-year old mind to process.  So he’s acting out.  A lot.  He goes from whiny and completely unable to do anything on his own, to absolutely beaming with happiness, giggling with that oh-so-cute giggle of his, to quiet boy playing his games, to constant talker boy, just aching for attention of any kind, which usually leads back to whiny if he doesn’t get the attention which is apparently vital to his very survival. 

It’s all very frustrating.  For him, for me, for Mr. W.  He’s trying to figure things out without even knowing what to figure out.  He’s trying to find his role and his safe spot in all the chaos.  He’s trying to ensure he is surrounded by the love we profess at all times, lest he be forgotten.  He’s trying our freaking patience!  I feel bad for him, but sometimes I want to just shake him and say, “LOOK!  I love you.  Mr. W loves you.  We know you are there.  We know what you are able to do and not do.  SO STOP MESSING AROUND!  Be strong, little padawan.  We are here for you, but you must find your own way to be a true Jedi.”  And he would totally get it…well, if he was actually listening at the time…because he is a total Star Wars fiend  (so proud of that, btw!).  But he won’t listen.  Can’t listen.  And the wheel keeps turning, threatening to spin our family happiness right into space (like the outer rim deep…like Tatooine deep…yeah).

So how do I reach him?  How do I make him feel secure enough to just be a happy 5-year old kid?  He has enough to deal with:  school, new friends, divorced parents, step-family (ex#2) side-stepping out of his life, new siblings (Mr. W’s kids), tying shoes, and just being 5.  I know phases happen.  I know testing happens.  I know change is inevitable, but this is more.  He’s insecure and confused, and worse, he doesn’t even know it.  Oh, and in two months, school is out and he goes to his dad’s for a good portion of the summer.  What then?

I have control issues.  (Ok, I admitted it, now let’s move on and never again speak of my faults.)  In my work, in my life, in my kids’ lives, I have a need to be in control that is so deep seated that most of the time I don’t even realize it until well after my angry “type A” side has reared it’s ugly head, usually at the expense of someone near and dear.  I think the hardest thing by far about getting divorced with children has been dealing with my need for control.

I’ve finally come to terms with the idea that my way may not be the only way to do something, although I will continue to hold on to it being the best way.  When I was still married to ex#2, we discussed the kids’ upbringing, discipline, etc, etc.  Usually the discussion would end up on my side of the fence, and I was perfectly happy with that.  And if it didn’t, at least we had enough discussion for me to accept the other side being some form of my side anyway, so I could live with it.  As far as ex#1 (the boy’s father) was concerned, well, we didn’t really care what he thought, and I had back-up to my unfair discounting of the other father, so that was good enough for me.  But now things have changed and I have to give up control of my kids and their upbringing.  (Yes I do realize that they aren’t just my kids, but when the other half isn’t around, and you hate despise dislike don’t see eye to eye with them normally, it’s hard to want to share responsibility and decision making with someone else.)

Ex#1 and I are getting along better these days.  About 70% of the time, we are able to discuss the boy and come to some agreement.  The other 30% of our discussions end up in a fight, and end up being way more complicated and frustrating than the situation ever called for, but more often than not we live amicably in that 70%.  The boy helps too.  He understands that rules are different in the two houses, and as sad as it is, has developed the ability to switch seamlessly between his two behaviours depending on his surroundings.  He is also past a lot of those milestone stages, walking, eating grown-up food, potty training, using the potty by himself, sleep issues…

And then there is ex#2.  We fight about 70% of the time.  We fight over her daily schedule.  We fight over potty training.  We fight over her rules.  We fight over everything it seems.  And the girl, not having to deal with this her whole life, hasn’t figured out the differences between mommy’s house and daddy’s house yet.  My biggest issue with ex#2 is that we, we, together figured all this stuff out when we were still married.  We decided on daily schedules.  We came up with a discipline plan.  We agreed what was a good diet for the kids.  We agreed on how we were going to go about potty training and other milestones.  But now that he’s living with his parents, he is letting them decide most everything and totally disregarding my input, reasoning, or desires.  Not that his parents are bad people or bad parents for that matter.  They are very kind and giving and loving to their children.  But seriously, both ex#2 and his sister have some serious issues that I won’t go into here but I (with their parents’ own admitting way back when) believe are at least 85% due to their upbringing, and I just want my daughter to be…well…better.

Ok, done venting.  But control, it’s like crack.  It has this hold over me that, with massive amounts of self therapy, I’m sloooowly loosening the grip, but it looks like a long road ahead.  And with the recent (and totally unprepared for ) cohabitation with Mr. W, my control issues are ready for the pounce at every turn…and just when I started to get the co-parenting thing under control.  (see, there’s that control thing again!  I can’t escape!)  I had my world (semi-) under control.  My schedule, my space, my way of doing things, my order of doing things, my routines, my rules, my needs,  my wants, my kids and the way I treat/raise/deal with them (at least in my home), my way of dealing with my exes, my plans, my future, my world is now to be shared with another person.  EEEK!!  But he’s a person I love and want to/plan to spend the rest of my life with so I should probably work on the home edition of my control issues soon if I still want that to happen!  Bear with me, Mr. W!!  Please!!! 

And work…well work just better look out.  With no other outlet for that crazy angry “type A” side…I coming in with a vengeance! 

 The boy refuses to talk to me. 

The boy is at his dad’s for the week.  It’s something we agreed upon to help the boy (more like his father…but whatever) transition from the two-weeks here/two-weeks there schedule we had to the here for the school year, there for the summer schedule that will be in full effect when he starts Kindergarten.  So yeah, he’s playing hooky from school for a week, for no good reason, but it gets him a stable environment (which also happens to be my environment) so overall it’s a win. 

But he refuses to talk to me. 

For two days now, he has whined and yelled that he doesn’t want to talk to me when I’ve called him.  For two days, my heart has shattered in my chest at those sounds.  For two days, I haven’t been able to reassure him that I love him and miss him.  For two days, I haven’t heard the greatest words in the English language: “I love you, Mommy.” 

Saturday afternoon, while playing video games, he casually asked me why I don’t love his daddy.  I haven’t figured out how to handle this yet.  Honestly, I didn’t think I would have to deal with this so soon.  After all, he’s 5, and he’s never seen ex#1 and I together as a couple, so I figured he would be safe from the trauma of mommy and daddy aren’t mommy and daddy anymore.  Apparently I was wrong.  I tried to reassure him that me not loving his dad doesn’t mean I don’t like him, and that we both love him tons.  He quietly accepted this, or so I thought.  Later that night, after his shower, he casually stated that he wants me and his dad to be together.  Hmmmm….. What the heck do I say to that? 

Now, the boy adores Mr. W.  He was ecstatically excited at the news of Mr. W coming home.  He leaped out of bed when Mr. W got to the house Saturday morning.  He was enamoured with him all day, sitting with him, showing him everything, talking to him, hugs and kisses all around.  So that isn’t the issue.  I’m not really sure what the issue is, actually.  Maybe it’s being in school, amongst all the other kids with mommies and daddies, who live together, and are a family.  I try to emphasise our unique family to my kids, including Mr. W and the gonna-be-step-kids.  I thought I was doing a good job at it, but with these conversations popping up, I started thinking.  The boy draws a lot.  Mostly SpongeBob and Patrick, but sometimes he draws portraits of us.  The thing is, it’s always either him with the girl, or more often, him with me.  Occasionally he will include Mr. W (as a dot on the paper “because he is so far away”…how cute is that!  My boy understands perspective!), but never, ever does he draw his father.  Ever.  He has even drawn him, the girl, me, Mr. W, and ex#2 in pictures.  Is this strange?  Why did I never notice before?  Hmmmm…..

Of course, my other theory is that all this is his dad’s doing.  Ex#1 is kind of an idiot.  He’s got ADHD pretty bad and when he does actually focus on something, he just doesn’t stop.  He ignores all logic and normalcy, and recruits all those around him to help in his quest, including the boy.  Ex#1 had a girlfriend around the time he agreed to let the boy go to school in my state.  They have since broken up.  He  knew about Mr. W, but also knew that Mr. W was out of country for a year.  (He does not know that Mr. W is back for good now.)  Apparently our break up, almost 7 years ago, did not sit well with him.  He hasn’t been in a serious relationship since, except for the girlfriend mentioned above, which wasn’t really that serious apparently.  Could it be that he saw my divorce as an opening?  (When he found out Ex#2 and I split up, there were many requests for lunch and dinner meetings, lots of phone calls to talk to me rather than the boy, information passing about job openings in my career field in his locale, and not so sly questioning about why we split up.)  Could it be that he saw Mr. W’s temporary departure as an even bigger opening?  Could it be that he’s vying to get me back and using the boy as leverage?  I wouldn’t put it past him.  He has done some pretty despicable things in the name of what he wants in the past and this wouldn’t be worst of them.  Fairness to and the best interest of the boy never, ever crosses his mind. 

Either way, I’m not sure what to do.  And in the boy’s absence for the week, followed by another in April (Spring Break) combined with his refusal to speak to me, my stress level is up, my heart is breaking, and my mind just doesn’t want to work under those conditions.