Buzz kill

X brings the N-Man home 45 minutes late.  No call.  No explanation. I’m rushed because I”ve had dinner waiting for a while already, plus… well, I’m irritated as hell because he was 45 minutes late with no call and no explanation.  Then X tells me that he’s going to, not asks me if he can, go upstairs and use my printer.  I told him no. This was the ensuing conversation.

X:  Why not?

Me:  (as if I have to give him an answer as to why I’m not at his disposal to provide him with every service in the world.) My office is a mess from all my new files being set up and my printer is almost out of ink and I need it for printing my billing paperwork later this weekend.  Besides I need to feed the N-Man first.

X:  It won’t take long.

Me:  I’m sorry, but no.  Why can’t you print it at your house?

X:  My computer is broken and I’m out of ink.

Me:  I’m almost out of ink too and I also have my billing running on my computer so I can’t shut it down.  They have printers at Kinkos.

X:  (getting mad)  I have to pay for that. You can get more ink.

Me:  (Um… WTF?  You can get more ink too, a-hole) Then go to the computer lab at school. It’s free.

X:  (turning red and stepping closer to me)  I don’t want to drive over there.  I need to print now.  I’ll just use yours and it will be done.  It’s for school.  I have to do it.

(BIG f-ing lie.  School is done and he told me he was glad he’d gotten it out of the way for the winter break)

Me: I’m sorry, but no. It’s not a good time and I’d rather you not be upstairs.

X:  (raising his voice. The N-Man is in the room.) I need to print it now.

Me:  I’m sorry. 

X:  (now fully pissed off  and leaning into my face as I”m trying to back away from him) Why are you acting like this?   Why do you always have to cause me problems?   (slams door on his way out.)

Once a bully always a bully.  I was afraid this would happen.  I bent over backwards to be accommodating over the holidays.  Give him an inch and he’s ungrateful that you don’t give him an entire rope and demands more.  Now the time has come to put some boundaries back up and I’m making his life difficult.  This is never going to end.  Is it?

Emotional Bulimia

I typically don’t do New Year’s Eve.  It’s never meant that much to me. The smoke filled parties, crammed shoulder to shoulder with drunk and slurring people have never been be something I can connect with.  My ideal NYE is a quiet time at home with my thoughts.  Much to my surprise, as I sat down earlier today put those emerging thoughts into print, 366 days of angst, frustration, solitude, transition, and ultimately joy suddenly surfaced and I quite unexpectedly burst into tears.  Tears of pain?  Tears of happiness?  I’m really not sure.  But I gave in for ten minutes  because it felt so good, then decided to step back before I wrote. 

Instead, I gathered the ever growing mound of donation items accumulating in my house, packed my dilapidated but trustworthy little SUV until the seams almost burst and ran the load to Goodwill.   I next headed southeast to the peace, quiet and solitude of the barn to take full advantage of a perfect December day that playfully mocked a spring that isn’t exactly just around the corner by taking the hoofed one on a two hour trail ride so that I could organize my thoughts more coherently.  I finally concluded, while out on the high praire gazing  contentedly across the full extent of the clear view from Pikes Peak to Longs Peak, the brown cloud of downtown Denver smothering in the distance,  the rocking motion of the hoofed one’s steps lulling me into a place far, far away, that this year I am celebrating and celebrating right.  I deserve it.

2008 can best be described for me as emotional bulimia.   The stress and hard knocks rained down hard and fast followed by periods of intense panic on my part where I did all I could to purge the negativity from my life.  Then, just as I would get through the storm, something else would happen and the cycle would repeat.   I spent  a good deal of this year putting on a happy face because that’s what I had to do to get through each day.  I spent it in  a fog, knowing that somewhere in that cloud, there I was,  despite the fact that I couldn’t see myself.  I attended too many sessions with a psychiatrist to monitor my prescribed antidepressants, the magic happy pills meant to dissipate the fog.  I lived my life  waiting for the other shoe to drop, mortified to discover that apparently I lived downstairs from an octopus.    Testing the raging waters of single motherhood, riding the waves of an ugly divorce,  learning to befriend a man for whom I have very little respect, my mother’s leukemia diagnosis, my twelve year old niece dying.   That was my year.    I believe, without a doubt, with every last bit of my my soul, that God never gives you more than you can handle.  Well, that said, 2008 is then a shining beacon of just how much faith He must  have in my abilities.   Many times I wished He didnt’ think so highly of me.   So dear Father Time, on this the last day of the year, run, don’t walk, and don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.  Never in my life have I ever rang out a year with such utter and complete relief.

But it hasn’t been all bad.  2008 had it’s good moments, plenty of them, more than I could possibly count.  No one is allowed to tell me how sorry they are for me, because in spite of it all, I’m not sorry for a second.   I celebrated the N-Man’s first birthday, the hoofed one came into my life and we rode our way to two year end awards, my mother is doing well, and in general, despite the fact that so much crap seemed to fall down on my head, I’m ending the year feeling truly happy, truly blessed, truly at peace with where I am.  This was my “transition year” and I not only survived, but I eventually did rediscover and redefine me , truly ME, with a new found and much deserved self confidence and strength.   All that is left to do is look forward to 2009 and wait with bated breath to discover what it has to offer, knowing all the time, that I’m strong enough to take whatever comes my way.  

Now on the subject of purging, where is a list of the items I did literally purge from my house this afternoon:   Two bags of my clothes, including a gazillion t-shirts from various events, many of which I can’t even remember, but most notably the free resort t-shirt from my honeymoon,  three bags of N-man’s clothes dating back to day one – that one was tough, an old printer, a good two shelves of  books I have never touched and likely never will,  almost half of my CDs,  and finally… my wedding dress, my wedding shoes, the matching purse, the shawl, the jewelry.  Every last remainng reminder of that day that unexpectedly detoured me around what was supposed to be my real life.  When I came home I sat in front of the now empty, gaping, space in the closet that was previously  filled with that taunting, haunting pile of fluff and tulle and celebrated and plotted for a much better 2009, considerably less free of drama and trauma.

HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE!

Dear drama queens

I have an extremely low tolerance for stupid people who make even the simplest things in life into an world ending drama.  But for the life of me, it seems like I always end up surrounded by these drama queens, pulling my hair out and wanting deprately to just smack somebody.   Here are a few examples.

1)   I dated a guy, a good guy, for almost three years whose family couldn’t change a light bulb without everyone’s input.  The  conversations would go something like this….

Guy:  Crap, I’m out of light bulbs.  I’m gonna run to the store.  (calls his sister)  Hey, I’m going to Wal-Mart.  You need anything?

Sister #1:  Why are you going to Wal-Mart?

Guy: I need light bulbs.

Sister #1:  For what?

Guy:  The lamp in the hall.

Sister #1:  Oh, that lamp. Are you sure it’s the light bulb?  I’ve had problems with that lamp before. The wiring is messed up.  Let me come look at it before you go to the store cause you might need something else other than light bulbs.  I can be there in 30 minutes.

Guy:  Ummm…. ok.

Sits around waiting…. phone rings.

Guy: Hello?

Sister #2:  Sister #1 just called me.  She said your lamp is broken and and she’s going to fix the wiring?   I don’t trust her with electrical stuff so I’m going to come over to help.   I’ll be there in about 45 minutes.  Don’t let her do anything with out me.

Guy:  Ummmmm… ok

Waits 5 minutes, phone rings

Sister #1:  Hey sister #2 said she’s coming over too.  Why don’t we all eat lunch if we’re all going to be there?

I could go on and on and on with this circus act, but the point is that three hours later now they’ve evolved to  fighting over who’s going to bring what to eat and what recipe to use because so and so doesn’t like such and such, their mom is on the phone long distance offering cooking advice,  sister #3 has gotten involved because it was her lamp first, and now my plans with Guy have been canceled because he needs a freaking light bulb and then six hours later it’s still dark in the hallway.   In the name of all that is kind and holy in this universe, JUST CHANGE THE FREAKING LIGHT BULB!!! 

2) Living with X was a daily drama struggle.  I would ask him to pick up some milk on the way home and it would turn into a thirty minute fight over why he had to stop for milk and ultimately morph into some ridiculous, delusional monstrosity about how I obviously hate Croatia and everyone who lives there just because I need milk and asked him to do something simple.   Then he’d suddenly stop fighting and agree to just do it.  Every time.  But every time he’d also then call me from the store needing my input on which carton of milk to buy and start another fight over why it had to be this brand and not the other.   Seriously, who has time in their adult life to be this stupid?  We need milk.  Pretend you’re 8 years old and capable of something and buy some already!

3) I have been ridiculously enmeshed with Qwest over my  internet service for months.  Sometimes I have it.  Sometimes I don’t.  Sometimes the wireless works.  Sometimes I’m tethered to the wall by a cable.  I call tech support at least twice a week and spend an hour on the phone with a guy named “Steve” who doesn’t speak English and tells me to turn my modem on and off ten times then declares that I must need to send my laptop back to the manufacturer for costly evaluation and repair because his end-all-be-all-of-the-universe script doesn’t provide him with the magic solution to get me going again.  Never mind that it works perfectly in every wireless location in the meto area except my house.  I spent three hours fighting with them again today, trying to get things fixed AGAIN, only to have them insist that “Steve” is very good and can fix the problem and transfer me back to tech support for the millionth time, over my protest.  I finally snapped.  Lost it.  I yelled.  I cried.  I finally told them to stick their giant, money sucking, piece of cow pie corporation where the sun doesn’t shine and canceled all my services with them.  I got in my car, drove to the nearest Cricket store to buy a mobile modem and, TA-DA, 15 minutes later my internet was working perfectly.  Maybe I should notify the press that I saw Jesus in my laptop because clearly this  is a miracle from God since, according to “Steve”, my computer is obviously broken. 

I’m just so over this drama!!  It’s  unbelievable how liberating it is to cut loose the stupid baggage that’s holding you down and making you insane, even when it’s as minor as crappy internet service.

Anxiety setting in

In one short week I will be fully immersed in single motherhood.  I will get a taste of what most single moms  deal with daily.  X is leaving for two weeks and I will truly be alone, juggling the N-Man, work, and the hoofed one 24/7.   I’m already staring stupefied at my schedule and blankly wondering how in the world I will possibly make things work.   I’m terrified.  I realize as time barrels down on me like an out of control crazy train,  exactly how lucky I am despite circumstances that others feel the need to incessantly and annoyingly apologize for.    In my worst moments, tucked far away in the dark, cobwebbed, angry corners of my mind I sometimes contemplate how much simpler life could be if X would just permanently move back to Europe and leave us to live our lives.  I suspect that I should be careful what I wish for.

Amazing things

1.  I lingered in a bubble bath for almost one glorious hour, until my fingers and toes had shriveled to the point of no return.  I indulged in a full body, at home galvanic spa treatment and carefully did my hair to look perfectly casual and un-done under my favorite, worn cap.

2.  I went to a movie.  It did not have cartoon animals.   There were loud noises, explosions, and criminal plots.  I was able to sit through the entire thing without excusing myself to take anyone for a walk.  Nobody shrieked in my ear or tried to climb over my seat.  My popcorn and juice stayed in their containers instead of spilling on the floor just as the crux of the story approached.  And I lazily lingered through the end credits until I was the last one in the theatre.

3.  I made my way to a bookstore and wandered over a cup of hot tea for almost two hours.  I poured over travel books and vowed to take a trip to central Africa to go gorilla tracking as soon as the N-man is old enough to spend two weeks in Croatia with X.   I passed by the children’s section and peered over the wall at the tired eyes of the parents held captive on the other side and did a silent, joyous dance that I was not them. I easily resisted the urge to go in.   I came out of my two year bookless shell and only bought books for me, save for one, sitting like a beckoning siren just outside the kiddie area, about a discontented wombat.  It would be negligent, as the mother of the N-Man, to not take full advantage of a shelf full of wombat books when that furry friend from down under is his current animal of the week.

I am officially learing to embrace and make the most of my childless nights off!

Taking off my boots

I may be a country mouse at heart, but I’m a female mouse.  And there is not a female anywhere on this planet that doesn’t love to get dressed up, all sizzling hot, every now and then and go out where everyone can see her in all her confident glory.  One of the things I miss about being married is that 2-3 times a year we would get seriously dressed up for no reason at all and then go out for a ridiculously over priced dinner and drinks.  I loved the game, picking the right dress that I knew would make him crazy, buying exactly the right shoes.  I haven’t gotten dressed up since three months before I left him.   I haven’t had a good reason to and haven’t had the energy to create a reason.   Until now.

The annual awards banquet for the horse association I ride in takes place one week from tonight.  I was 17 last time I went to one of these but they are always a fabulously big to do.  Everyone takes off their hard hats, boots, and spurs and slips into their very best evening wear to demonstrate exactly how well they really do clean up away from the barn.  If not for all the photos, ribbons and trophies lining the grand hall, you would think you were at fashion week, not a horse event.   There are outfits in the back of my closet that would do but 1)  since I don’t know when I’ll get the chance to dress up like this again  and 2) because I just found out that I have to stand up and go up in front of everyone to collect awards for the hoofed one twice, not once like I thought, I made the executive decision that I will not be outdone by those damn Joneses!   Armed with a new pay check and a plethora of after Christmas sales I went out yesterday and bought this dress (minus the fake dead animal around the neck).  

 

 

I even swallowed my pride and waived the I-can’t-accessorize-for-crap white flag and got all the right everything to go with it.  The cute, perky, sales girl feeling the commission coming, was more than happy to work her magic for me.   Just like Pretty Woman  except I didn’t have to prostitute myself to a millionaire for the attention.  Then, because the perfect, fabulous peep toe pumps in the first picture were so freaking tall that I strained an ass muscle just standing in them for two minutes (No, seriously. I really did. It still hurts.),  I declined them and opted to wage war on every shoe store in town.  Eight stores later, I  finally discovered these, but in the  EXACT  same sparkly, shiny, tannish-greyish-taupey color as the dress.  The fashion gods were aligning the stars, just for me.

So that’s it.   I’m ready!   Start shaking, not stirring.  I finally have that long over due chance to  don my post holiday best and be fabulous while sipping cocktails, mixing and mingling, smiling, and laughing with other fabuouls folk.  Just what the doctor ordred.   My trusty, dusty boots can survive a night without me.

Christmas day

1.  The N-Man still couldn’t care less about opening presents.  He was pretty jazzed about the playhouse/slide from Santa and dug all the new toys once they were set up but I opened all the presents again.  Maybe next year?

2.  During brunch, X stuck a spoonful of vanilla yogurt in his mouth thinking it was plain yogurt.  He doesn’t like vanilla yogurt so he just spit it out.  Yes, I was married to Borat.

3.  Crock Pot Pot Roast is the best thing ever.  Fancy holiday dinner that everyone raved about.  Five minutes of work.

4.  I thought every one knew you don’t put potato peelings down the kitchen sink.  Apparently my mother didn’t.  Peelings from four large potatoes sure make for one hell of a sink clog.  

5.  Apples to Apples is the best game ever.  If you don’t have it yet, go buy it.

6.  X and I had a long talk about the N-Man and his diaper rashes.  No one got hurt.  The guy truly isn’t an asshole when it comes to his son.  He’s honestly just slower than I’m able to comprehend any human adult being.  Maybe I was married to Homer Simpson instead.  I think   I hope  I pray I made a little more of a dent.  

7.  My mother only referred to X as her son-in-law in the present tense three times.  I’m glad she stopped because I didn’t have much restraint left by the time the last one came out.

8.  The rule in the LuWho home is that during formal family meals the N-Man must sit at the table until we are all finished eating.  Today everyone else finished before my mother.  Here’s what he thought about that.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE!!

Conflicted

Part of the problem is that he really and truly ADORES the N-Man.  It’s just so genuine.  X  called me from Toys R Us, so excited about shopping and asking for input to help choose between about a gazillion things.   Seriously, he really does try so hard in some areas.  Why Why WHY doesn’t he get it though?   WHY?  Why can’t he fix whatever part of his brain is broken so it can just be in in sync with his heart?  Because when I catch him in these moments, I realize that I  do NOT want the N-Man to miss out on one second of where his dad’s heart is.  But first, I need to trust that X can keep him safe and healthy.

ENOUGH!  I’m putting this away until after Christmas since it’s a non issue until then.  I want the next two days to be light and fun.  I don’t want a strained holiday.  Not if I can help it.   I need to breathe and try to get back to that happy, holiday cheer place that I woke up bouncing in this morning.