Random updates out of the blue

1. The hoofed on is officially for sale.  I’m sad.  I’m ok with it.  I feel guilty.  I don’t want him to go.  I hope it happens fast.   When I bought him, I knew he wasn’t my forever horse.  He was largely an investment.  And as with any investment, you have to know when it’s time to sell.  And it’s time.  For a variety of horse business reasons, and even more personal ones.  The N-Man is about to turn 3.  (Excuse me for a moment, but how the @%@)&^(&#$ is he about to be THREE years old???)   And every parent knows that 3 is a magic number when it comes to activities.  Soccer, karate, suzuki violin… they all open their doors at three.  And suddenly, come spring, my time will be in demand for other things that are not all about me.  It makes no financial sense for me to own a horse I can only see two times a week when I can just take lessons on someone else’s.  And so, it is official.

2.  X.  He’ll never change.  He’ll never grow up.   Long ago he said he wanted to take the N-Man to visit relatives for Thanksgiving this year.  I was open to it.  Then he told me no, he couldn’t afford it.  I started making different mental plans for my holiday.  Then last week he told me that his father offered to pay for the plane tickets and wanted to know if I was ok with the N-Man going.  My biggest sticking point was making sure we balanced out his complete absences from my major holiday by ensuring he could spend Christmas Eve and most of Christmas Day here.  X’s immediate reaction to that suggestion was to invite himself over for Christmas dinner.

I just got off the phone with him and in discussing it again he once again announce that he would be coming for dinner.  I told him no and,  class=”hiddenSpellError” pre=”">suprise suprise “>suprise suprise, he argued with me.  Apparently because it’s HIS son he can do what he wants.  I offered to bring the N-Man to him later in the evening and he told me that wasn’t acceptable so he would be coming for dinner.  God help me for what I said next.   With no warning to me, my mouth suddenly blurted out  Look, I don’t think my boyfriend is going to be comfortable with my X husband having holiday dinner with us.  

No, you haven’t missed anything.  Yes, I just lied and told my X that I’m involved when I”m not.  But I swear it wasn’t a tactic for promoting jealousy or playing games.  I’m just at my wits end for how to deal with his bullying.  It happens less and less but when it does it’s still unbearable and it seems nothing I do even remotely works.  He just bulldozes me emotionally until I give in and do what he wants, because it’s easier than continuing to fight with him.  But I”ll tell you one thing.  I am NOT having him over for the holidays again. I did it last year and was miserable.  I”m not doing it again.  And blurting out what I did served it’s purpose.  So, to that extent, I make no apologies.

X’s immediate reaction to my non existant news was to tell me that he had to approve the people HIS son spends time with and he would take me to court to prevent ”this man”  from coming to my house for dinner.  Then he asked me how I would feel if he had a  girlfriend and had her over for the holidays instead of me.  Honestly, whatever.  It’s not my place to tell him who he can and cannot have in his life.    I don’t want to have a pretend family dinner with him.  Does he seriously believe that just because we were once married we are still so entwined?  I just can’t wrap my brain around his though process at all.

3.  Aside from his ultimatum that I never date again, X also told me that if he takes the N-Man for Thanksgiving, I have to take them both to the airport.  I told him no on that point too and again he argued.  I have a car seat in the car.  Um, so does he last time I checked.  He needs help in the airport with the N-Man.  Um, so maybe you shouldn’t be traveling with him if you can’t handle it.  He doesn’t want to pay to park his car.  Not my problem.  He finally told me we’d discuss it later and I just reminded him that, no, the issue was resolved. 

It just never changes and it never will.   So long as he gets his way he’s happy.  If he has to compromise anything his mission is to make the entire world a living hell until he does get his way.  I absolutely hate that I have to share my child with this person.

4.  On a more positive note, I’m in love.  Not with a person, but with a house.  And the timing may be perfect.  I love the house that I’ve been renting the past two years, but I’ve come to the conclusion that it is not our forever home.  As much as I love dating this house, I do not want to marry it.   One mile northwest of us though, there is one that I’m falling for…hard.  New construction in a darling little bungalow style community.  All the same school districts.  Almost exactly the same amenities as my current house, only with bigger rooms, a mud room entry perfect for exploding children, and a full basement to grow into (ie a full basement to lock screaming boys in when the N-Man is older and wants to have friends over to sleep.)  I’ve even picked out the lot I want.     End of the row with green belt open space on one side, backs up to a community playground, only one physical neighbor.  And it won’t likely be released for sale until late spring/early summer.  Exactly the time I’ll be serious about writing a contract.  But don’t hold me to committing.  I reserve the right to change my mind 1,001 times between now and then.

Flashback

Between 1977 and 1988 I managed to break my nose eight times.  Today at the barn I tried to do it again.  As I was getting the hoofed one ready for our ride I lifted up the cross tie, started to duck under it, realized I needed something so let go to turn around and grab it, then promptly turned back around just as the very large, very heavy metal clip was swinging  back… directly at my face.  BAM!  It hurt like a MF-er but gradually subsided.   In fact, I completely forgot it had happened (suffice to say it’s not actually broken)  until I came home two hours later, got out of the shower with water in my eyes ,and squinted in the mirror wondering what was on my nose.  Yeah, that would be the big cut and bruise right where I got whacked.  Lovely.  Lesson:  it is not enough to wear your helmet only when you are ON the horse because you might be a clumsy, stupid, on the ground accident waiting to happen disaster like me.

On an unrelated note, I took myself out to see Inglorious Basterds this afternoon and loved it. I’d give you my real thoughts but I don’t want to spoil anything.  However,  I had to raise a serious eyebrow at the group of women walking out of the theatre in front of me, complaining about the violence.  Correct me if I’m wrong, but complaining that a Q.T. flick is violent is akin to whining that taking a shower gets you wet.  What did you expect?

If I had a hammer…

I know I promised to write everyday for the rest of the month, but that vow failed to take into consideration the possibility of an evening like yesterday. 

I stayed home all day, waiting and watching like a child on Christmas Eve, for the FedEx truck to arrive.   Last week I ordered a good sized piece of furniture for the living room and it was delivery day.  Finally, at 5:15 p.m.  they arrived and I sprung for the door kicking random objects out of the way so the big strong delivery men would have a clear path to bring in my new treasure.  I signed on the dotted line and they handed me a box, two boxes actually and left.

WTF? When I called to ask about this particular piece, I explicitly inquired if it required assembly and was told no.  Excuse me, but I’m a single mom of a two year old.  When exactly do I have time to organize and wrangle 300 pieces and create a stable piece of furniture out of them, all while preventing the N-Man from  eating  a cam bolt or sticking a screwdriver through his eye?   I sat staring  at the two large boxes and the mess in my living room where I had emptied the previous cabinet plotting my next move.   I decided to suck it up and just put the monstrosity together myself.  I’m handy.  I’m a long time do it yourself-er.  I’ve tackled far worse projects with success.  I could engage the N-Man and turn it into a fun, family project. 

Yeah right.  Numerous pieces were damaged or broken, but of course to discover that I had to take it out of the box. I called customer service and they told me they would gladly accept the return…. IF I put it all back in the original packaging.  Again, WTF?   Have you seen these boxes?  You need a PhD in architectural engineering to stuff everything in there in the first place.  Besides, by now, the N-Man had destroyed 90% of the packing Styrofoam and my living room looked like base camp at a ski area. Repacking was not an option.  The other choice, wait a week for the replacement part to come.  Again, not favorable.   Neither was the 15% discount they offered me on my next order as a consolation prize, since I will never order from them again.   I slammed down hung up the phone and took a closer look.  OK.  The main part that was damaged was actually on the back of the furniture where it would never be seen.  I regrouped and recommitted to going forward.

Things just went down hill from there.  There were pieces missing.  The glue bottle exploded while I was filling a dowel hole.  The screw holes weren’t drilled properly so things didn’t line up.  I broke at least two more pieces (fortunately minor,  internal peices) having to re-drill holes that should have been there in the first place.  The veins on my forehead were throbbing and I’m pretty sure I was as close to a stress induced heart attack as I’ve ever been.  At one point while pounding with all my might with the hammer, trying to get the top to actually sit down on the screws  the N-Man stared at me with wide-eyed caution from the safety of the other side of the room and pointed out, Mommy needs a time out.  Four hours later it was assembled, minus the cabinet doors and drawers, and as I finally took my smashed & blistered fingers & hands upstairs to put the N-Man to bed, I decided it was in everyone’s interest for me to stop and join him.  I stared, fuming & angry at the ceiling for a good hour before I finally calmed down and was able to begin to fall asleep.

After a good night’s rest  I was able to regroup and get the doors put on before work this morning and hopefully, tomorrow, I’ll have time to tackle the drawers.  In the mean time, I’m reluctanly satisfied with the way it looks.  But was it really worth the drama, trauma, and tears to get to this point?   Next time something like this happens, I’m just putting the damn thing back on the truck, sending it away, and asking for demanding a refund.

What’s eating you?

I won’t bother putting it into context.  These things are just never as funny when you try to explain it to someone as they are when spontaneously blurted out in conversation.  But I will credit my favorite social worker, and former intern, for making me laugh harder than anyone else today.   So whatever is stuck in your craw, feel free to assume that’s what we were talking about in the courthouse hallway this afternoon when there was a long, pregnant pause, suddenly followed by this declaration.

“We should put them all in a bucket and light that shit on fire.”

Do share.  What’s in your bucket today?

Friday friday friday

I can’t be coherent this evening.  It’s just not possible.  My disjointed thoughts include:

1.  I arrived at X’s house  for our usual Friday morning N-Man exchange just before 10:00 am and had to pound on the door for almost 15 minutes before he answered.  Apparently he was still asleep.   I know he went out with the guys last night ( that was his given reason why he couldn’t take the N-Man home for an extra evening after we were finished with Chuck E Cheese) and I know how much he drinks when he’s out with the guys.  Aside from that I’m not going to jump to conclusions that I can’t back up.  I just know that I was not happy to see him looking green and acting as if I’d shown up unannounced at 3:00 am.  And would it really kill the guy to put on something other than his boxer shorts before he answers the door for me?

2.  I’ve gotten into the habit of taking myself to the movies.  For the most part I hate going to the movies with someone else and I’ve given in to that indulgence regularly lately and love it. I was in a non-descriptly, weepy, blah, entirely female kind of mood this afternoon, the kind of mood that every woman out there knows can only be cured by a good, no real reason for it cry.  So I went to see My Sister’s Keeper. Yep!  That did the trick.  And then I came home and have no N-Man here to hug fiercely.

3.  I approached my trainer today about my thoughts on potentially selling the hoofed one, couldn’t actually say the S word and burst into tears.  I think it’s fair to say I’m definitely not there yet. 

4.  I got an envelope in the mail from The Man today.  Definitely made me raise an eyebrow. Apparently he was cleaning out his car and found a rusted, broken, cheap, tacky, and obviously completely worthless bracelet in the back somewhere and assumed it was mine and mailed it to me.  Sorry not mine.  An email could have told him that if he’d asked first.  But whatever.  I threw it in the trash.  What is it with the random, bizarre interactions/communications I’m having with men this week?

5.  I have some pretty heavy duty stuff on my mind this past week.  Thoughts that are suprising to me.  Thoughts that appear to be, at this juncture, slightly more than just passing moments.   I just want to make sure they are thoughts that are seriously here to stay before I open my mouth here and freak anyone out.  Don’t worry.  They aren’t bad thoughts.  But they’re pretty life changing and serious.

6.  I’m getting my hair chopped off tomorrow.  OFF.  Boy short.  Think Halle Berry.  I’m a little anxious about it but know I”ll walk out feeling much freer and am not chickening out.   Tomorrow’s post = the before and after.

And with that, I’m kicking off my weekend by ordering Chinese and eating it in bed as I watch TV and then fall asleep early.  Ten years ago I would have found that oddly pathetic.  Now, I can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing.

Back on the horse

They say it takes three months to get into shape and three days to completely fall out when you stop.  Been there done that, time and time again.  I know good and well from my re-introduction to riding almost two years ago just how painful it is to get back up on the horse.  How discouraging it is to look back on your past glory while you plod slowly along in the present, thighs burning every step of the way, wondering how you ever did it and if you’ll ever be able to do it again.

Well apparently the same can be said for writing.  It’s been ages since I sat down and made a focused effort to keep things flowing, giving in to excuse after excuse for not being around.  I have amazing thoughts that never get put down on “paper.”  Questions I would love to bounce off the singleton community.  Diddies from the N-Man that never stop.  So what gives?   Resolution:  every day in the rest of August I WILL write.  I will be here.  I will put something, anything out there.  It’s the only way to get back in the game.  It may hurt.  It may be incoherent.  But it. will. be.

To kick things off, five random things that have recently crossed my mind:

1.  The N-Man came home from Florida with what turned out to be a urinary tract infection that spread to his kidneys.   Thus the week long, crazy high fever.  Later this week he has to go in for more tests and an ultrasound to see if there was any permanent damage caused.  Mama bear is worried.  It’s hard enough when he’s in pain, but when that pain involves sticking tubes up his junk…   Oh.  And if X tries to engage one more doctor in a conversation about circumcision because of this I won’t be responsible for my actions.

2.  I loathe my appearance right now.  Not right this second, but in general.   I look tired.  I look old.  My hair is a hippy disaster yanked back in a perma-ponytail because I don’t have an hour a day to blow dry and style it.  Yes.  That’s how long this rat’s nest takes to put in proper order.  I want to chop it off again.  Go back to boy short.  Been there plenty of times and always love it, so why am I so scared to do it again?  Because someone recently told me men prefer longer hair.  And I want to bitch slap myself for even remotely indulging that thought process.  Screw what the general male population prefers.  I want my hair short.  Hmmm… no horse show next weekend.  I think I’ll set up an appointment for a serious mowing and some ridiculously fun colors next Saturday.  I’m also pondering a little nip, tuck to the prodigious proboscis, but we’ll see.  I do guarantee that that most certainly won’t happen next weekend between morning coffee and afternoon stress relief on the elliptical.

3.  Horse shows.  UGH.  I rode like crap today.  No really.  I swear I’ve done this before.  But since so many of the ridiculously thin early twenty somethings that dominate the adult division rode beautifully, but off course, I still managed to pin in every class.  My trainer says I’m definitely getting better.  Hard to believe her on a day like this but deep down I know she’s right.  So no more self loating.  Can’t win ‘em all.

4.  I’m contemplating selling the hoofed one.  No. SERIOUSLY.  I know!  CRAZY!  Not right away, but like in a year or so.  No I’m not hanging up my boots again but as the N-Man gets older he’ll need more and more of my time and the responsibility of actually owning a horse will become harder and harder to fit in.  I can half lease a horse and not have all the vet bills and time commitment to deal with.   Plus, I have to remind myself that I bought him as an investment horse.  It will be hard to justify not crying as I bid him farewell when doing so will  end in enough money to make a down payment on a house.  But right now it’s just a thought.  It’s not going to happen in the near near future.

5.  When making a “Friday night mistake” it is not enough to just ensure that your “mistakee” lives in a different part of town.   Because if said “mistakee”  also happens to work in your neighborhood and innocently stops off at the same grocery store where you shop to pick up a few things on the way back to his different part of town, you could possibly find yourself suddenly ducking and running down the frozen food aisle with your pre-schooler squealing in delight in the shopping cart and catching a raging case of frost bite from stuffing your head in a locker full of frozen brussel sprouts to hide until said “mistakee” has safely left the premises.  Just a thought.

Well so much for that

We scratched from our horse show.  It poured rain.  The  Rapids failed to rise to even a level of basic mediocrity.  The fireworks show was a bust and didn’t go off due to technical difficulties.  And it took an hour and a half just to get out of the stadium parking lot and to the main road.  Not quite the holiday we had planned but since in 48 hours I’ll be eating hamburgers with the whole famn damily at Disney World, I won’t complain.  In the mean time, while I have time to pause in the pre vacation chaos, here’s a few shots from our fourth of July.

The N-Man schools Gramma on the rules.

Studying the beautiful game intently, as any proper hooligan would.

The highlight of the night: the mascot all star match. Great hilarity always ensues.

Franz the Fox dribbles it in.  He shoots. He scores to give the home team the go ahead goal.

Or mascot goalie, Jorge el Mapache.  Saying  Jorge el Mapache makes me giggle.

Miles of the Denver Broncos made his annual appearance.

Always up for a photo op with a fellow redhead.

Yours truly and the N-Man hoping everyone had a great holiday!

Happy Birthday America!

Love me some fourth of July!  Love the lazy, hot day.  The bbqs, the children with sparklers, staying up late to watch the fireworks, surrounded by my friends and family.  In my specific world, love the Colorado Rapids and their traditional undefeated home streak before a standing room only crowd ready to riot like the real hooligans from across the pond… of course highlighted by the best soccer exhibition in the history of the beautiful game, the traditional mascot all star game at half time.   And finally the patriotic music, songs that reduce even the biggest nay sayer to goosebumps.    I’ve been working with N-Man, teaching him about the history of this day, as best a tiny tot can comprehend, and convincing him quite easily, that marching is fun.  We have been holding practice parades through the kitchen for a week now, banging our pots and pans and clapping wooden spoons.  I think we’re ready.

If this song doesn’t at least make you tap your toe and bring a smile to your face, you should be deported.

HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY, EVERYONE!!!