Archive for December, 2008

Dec 23

Why Can’t They Just be Happy?!

I was going to write something heart warming about my son being home for the holidays. I’ve missed him so and I just wanted to be positive about the whole thing. It sucks wasting precious time on negative energy…but dammit, this visit is much harder than I anticipated.

I wanted us to spend time together laughing and cherishing the few moments we have…He’s only going to be here until the 31, not even two full weeks. Instead I’ve been mediating silly misunderstandings between the boys, which I suppose is normal, but I just wanted them to hang out, have fun and love each other.

Well…when I walked in from work today, my sister was yelling at the boys about roughhousing too much. They had spent what little dry part of the day outside but were still bubbling over with energy and she wasn’t having it. Apparently they had been wrestling and doing what boys do. The problem is that the little one couldn’t really hang and kept getting hurt…which is precisely why I hate that sort of play in the first place.

After I dealt with the initial drama I thought everything would be cool. The boys went into their room to play and were fine for a while until I hear the E yell “I’m sorry B! I’m sorry!” Then dramatic sobbing.

Dammit! What now?!

Breathe…breathe…

E was sitting on his bed still boo-hooing. I resisted the urge to grumble inwardly as I walked over to the bed, hearing B’s voice but not being able to figure out where he was.

“He’s under the bed mom,” E said.

“What’s wrong now?” Unfortunately my exasperation came through and the water works on E were going again. “What’s going on?”

E squealed something about B being mad at because he’d accidentally hurt B’s finger… sobbing

B interjected, “But I’m not mad. It’s just… indecipherable sobbing

What the hell?!

“Come from under there, and both of you…stop crying,” my voice was getting louder, but I didn’t want to yell. They were hysterical and needed me to be calm. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

B: He hurt my finger, but it was an accident and he keeps saying I’m mad…and I’m not,” he squeaked the end as he held back the tears; lip quivering.

E: I said sorry, but he’s still mad at me sobbing

“He said he’s not mad,” I snapped. “How frustrating it must be that you insist he is mad, when he keeps telling you he’s not.”

B: This is why I play alone! Every time I play with someone they get hurt! huge dramatic sob

I felt like I was in some sort of warped universe. I had no idea what was going on. B obviously wasn’t talking about his finger being hurt and E was just upset because he thought he had hurt his brother. B kept saying, “I’m not used to playing with other people,” and my heart was breaking because all I wanted them to do is play and enjoy each other’s company.

Me: You have to be able to play with your brother-

B: But I can’t play with him because he’s just going to get hurt…

M: Stop focusing on something that’s over and move on to the next thing…

‘Round and round we went, until I just held them both close to me, shushing them. “Stop, stop, stop.”

Finally B pulled away and said “I just need a few minutes alone.”

“Ok,” I stood up and reached out for E’s hand. “But B, don’t wallow. Use this time to calm yourself down. I’ll check on you in a bit.”

I didn’t have time to go back to check on him before he came into my room, where E and I were slightly distressed about not being able to console B.

B: Can I talk to mom alone please?

E gave his brother a hug and smiles as he closes the door behind him.

B: You know how I was telling you that I’m used to playing alone? (I nod ) Well it’s because I don’t have any friends…the kids, they all make fun of me…”

So now we get to the root of the issue; he’s an outcast. Well, not much you can do about that other than develop thick skin and sharp wit with which to confuse any potential bullies. I told him that I understood and that he would have to be real strong. Let them hate, because people who pick on others only do it to feel better about themselves.

We had a nice long talk, followed by a group hug. We ate dinner, read a bed time story and now I’m exhausted.

Add to all of this that I forgot something really important for my mother, which I don’t even have the energy to get into…

All in all, an emotionally draining, shitty evening. sigh

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Dec 10

Conference + Bum Knee = A Hard Damn Day

You all know by now that I’m hard on myself. I hate being sick, I hate not being able to do things…I am the Modern Super Human Earth Mother after all; obstacles be damned!

Well, sometimes it just isn’t that simple.

My knee collapsed as I was walking into the grocery store last Thursday. It hurt a little but I didn’t fall or anything, so kept it moving. The next day I was walking with a limp and my knee was definitely swollen. Saturday morning, I put my feet on the floor to take my morning pee and nearly fell; something was definitely wrong with my knee.

I spent the next couple of days laid up in the bed and on Monday I went to the Dr, where I was told that my joints looked good, there were no broken bones…my knee was just swollen and inflamed because it wanted to be. Oh, that’s just lovely. rolls eyes

The next day I was scheduled to work a conference. In hind sight, I probably should have asked if I could be excused from the conference and just gone into the office. Being the super woman I am, I was determined that I could handle this event.

And I probably could have if Murphy hadn’t been so set on kicking my ass.

When I arrived at the venue, the parking directly underneath was blocked off and I was directed to a structure nearly three blocks away. I parked and slowly began walking to back towards the entrance, all the while racking my brain trying to remember if the Long Beach Convention Center had elevators. I had been to the convention center many, many times and couldn’t for the life of me remember ever seeing an elevator, so I began working my way up the first set of stairs I could find.

I made it up the first and second flights triumphantly, only to be daunted by two more; one with at least 15 steps. I sat at the bottom of the third set and took a couple deep breaths before painstakingly inching my way up. Going up stairs had never been so hard…I was sweating and exhausted and still had one more flight of stairs to conquer.

Panting I stood there looking at the final set of stairs, my brain fighting itself…

You can do this…Shit I’m tired…Just one more flight and you’re there…This shit is so hard…You can do it!

I stood there for a few minutes trying to hold back the tears but I was feeling broken and the dam had reached its limit. The tears mixed with the sweat as I looked up the stairs feeling defeated. Folks began offering empathetic comments as they passed me on their way up the stairs.

“Well that hardly seems fair,” on guy remarked noting that the venue should have had an elevator.

“Do you need help,” said one woman, stopping to rub my back. I was simultaneously comforted and embarrassed.

“I think I’ll make it,” I said avoiding her eyes. “Its just so hard…”

She found my gaze, looking for some assurance that I was ok.

“I’ll be ok,” I said lying through my tears and pained expression. “I’m sorry.”

She rubbed my back a couple more seconds. “Don’t apologize, just take your time.” And then she was off.

Just as I worked up enough energy to make my way to the top of the final flight of stairs, another editor from the magazine showed up. It pained me to see the sympathy in her eyes, but I was glad for the company. She cheered me on all the way to the top and stayed with me as we walked into the venue, only to find we had to go up some more. At least this time there was an escalator…

When we arrived at the registration table, I was sweating profusely and unsuccessfully trying to put on a happy face.

“You shouldn’t have come,” said the guy running the event. “You look like you’re in an incredible amount of pain.”

I looked at the ground. “I would have been fine if I hadn’t had to climb the stairs,” I said with an uncomfortable giggle. My face flushed with heat as I felt the sympathetic stares of the staff on me.

He put his hand on my arm lightly, “Are you ok?”

“It was really hard…” and I turned away feeling naked as the tears fell once again. I dried them away quickly and took a seat, half hoping he would send me home, half wanting to be useful.

The rest of the day was spent sitting in the back of a ballroom watching presentations with my leg propped up on a chair. After the last session, I looked for someone to give me a ride to my car. Since everyone was still busy with conference duties, I made my way, resolved that I wouldn’t cry again. It took me nearly 30 minutes make a five minute walk, but I made it. Once I got into the car, I allowed myself a 30 second release, dried my face, started the engine and drove home where I locked myself away for the rest of the night.

Yesterday will go down in my mental history as one of the hardest days of my life.

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Dec 02

The Boy Misses His Mommy

I got a call from the boy’s teacher. We had actually been playing phone tag for a few days. It was parent teacher conference time and I was not available during the hours he wanted to meet. We planned to meet via phone but in the meantime he had something he was concerned about…

The boy was crying and acting out…”attention seeking” the teacher said.

“I’m doing my best to show him positive attention but I was wondering if anything was going on at home…?”

I knew right away what the deal was; the boy gave me a big fat hint not long before I got the call from teacher.

“He misses me,” I said resolutely. “I had been working from home for almost three years and now I work in an office.”

I replayed the last couple of months back in my head, trying to think if I had neglected spending time with the boy when I had it. No…we’d gone to our favorite breakfast spot twice last month, cuddled with each other on Saturday mornings, spent hours at our favorite coffee shop playing Mancala, I make him breakfast before school…There was only so much I could do without losing my own mommy time. And mommy is not happy when she doesn’t have her quiet time…

After taking inventory of mommy/boy quality time, I was confident that the issue was more that he was used to me always being around and now I wasn’t around nearly as much. I wasn’t see him off properly in the morning; not around to meet him at his classroom after school or to help him with his homework in the evenings (I expect it done by the time I get home)…He missed his mommy.

So I’ve been super affectionate and attentive the last week or so. I’m a little conflicted though, because I understand how the transition can be tough, but he’s not the first kid to have a working single mother. I’m torn between feeling his pain and thinking he should just get used to seeing me less.

Last Saturday, we went to breakfast and he tagged along while I ran errands in the morning. It was wonderful…just me and the boy. It made me miss the older boy a little because we used to do the same sort of thing on Saturdays before he moved across the country with his father.

sigh

We’ll all be together for Christmas and then I’ll soak up all the boy cuddles and affection I can stand. For now, I’ll have to be sensitive to the little dude’s discomfort with the change.

Change sometimes difficult after all…

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