Last night, my sister, brother-in-law and myself sat at the kitchen table and talked about our new year's resolutions. Mine were pretty simple. My brother-in-law's was even easier - "I will no longer vacuum the pool." He looked at my sister smugly and that was the end of it. We all started laughing. My sister said she wants to lose the extra weight this year and maybe quit one of her jobs. It was quiet for a minute and I said, "I know how you can lose a lot of weight fast." I had her attention. She waited for me to reply and I said, "Just get divorced, you'll be skinny like me in no time." She didn't say anything, but my brother-in-law reached across the table, took her hand and said, "I'd rather just keep buying bigger clothes."
So would I, so would I...
Monday, December 31, 2007
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Haste
I met a woman yesterday on the airplane back into Baltimore. We sat for nearly three hours together, waiting for the plane to take off in the blizzard that hit the northeast in the last couple of days. She's been married for thirty-three years, was close to divorcing on two occasions, but they stayed together to spite the statistics. She said it was the best decision she ever made. Talked to my neighbor a few days ago. We stood facing my house, watching the kids and the dogs play together. He shook his head in sadness and said he and his wife were so close to divorce at one point in their marriage that their marriage counselor said they'd be better off apart. They, in turn, got upset with the marriage counselor and stayed together to spite him. He said it was the best decision he ever made. Both people went on to raise well-adjusted, hard-working children.
We grow in marriage, tightening our grip on our past as we walk through the stages of the marriage. The bliss of the new beginning, the quiet nights spent reflecting on what the future shall bring, and the fruition of a dream as it comes out crying and full of life are all the glorious pieces of the marriage. Then there are the bills, the pressures from work, the crying babies, the lack of sleep, the maintenance of the house, the laundry, the groceries and the meals. Somewhere inside of that big mess are two people, gripping their past, riding the bumpy ride and losing sight of what the future will bring. It's easy to lose sight, lose hope, lose the idiosyncrasies of the other person that made you fall in love. And then one day, as your standing on a rug, piecing together the missing pieces, yearning for the past and the future to meet in a sweet kiss, you see your significant other race into the room, grip the rug in his hands and yank it from beneath your feet. A hasty, hasty decision and you know it's a mistake, you know it's the biggest mistake of his life, and you try. You try. You try. And finally, you stand up, straighten the rug and heavy with regret and fear and pity, you step out on your own.
I doubt very much that in ten years, the spouse who made the hasty decision will one day stand looking at his neighbors' house, or talking to a stranger on a plane will say it was the best decision of his life. It might be a better decision, sure, but the best? Can't be, not when there are kids involved. Kids who cry for their parents together, kids who were swept into the air by that yank of the rug and who are still landing, landing softly, maybe landing elsewhere. A hasty decision like that is selfish, but that decision had to be made that way because anyone who was looking outside of himself/herself in reflection upon the lives it affects would have never done it. A stronger person would have seen the damage and tried to thwart it, at least, tried.
I am reading a book, a list of things to know, written by three doctors. I just came across the following:
WHY DIVORCE HURTS CHILDREN
1. It signals the collapse of the family structure - the child feels alone and frightened. This loneliness can be acute and long remembered.
2. A couple's capacity to be parents is diminished. They are preoccupied with their own emotional survival during the critical months (or years) of divorce.
3. Divorce creates conflicts of loyalty in the children. Whose side do they take? They feel pulled by love and loyalty in both directions.
4. Uncertainty about the future often causes deep-seated insecurity in children. Being dependent mainly on one parent can create a great deal of anxiety.
5. Anger and resentment between parents, which is prevalent in most divorces, creates intense fear in the child. The younger he or she is, the more damaging the climate of anger can be.
6. Children take upon themselves anxiety concerning their parents. They worry intensely about their mother in particular, with the departure of the father being a terrifying event.
7. Divorce represents the loss of so many things that a deep depression is almost inevitable. Yet most parents fail to recognize depression in their children.
"The trauma of divorce is second only to death. Children sense a deep loss and feel they are suddenly vulnerable to forces beyond their control." -- Dr. Lee Salk
A decision to leave, made in haste, made in anger, made without a second thought, without looking at every factor involved is wrong; it's weak, it's wrong and when it is done in the face of a woman who tried desperately to paint the big picture, who was willing to work on forgiving the indiscretions and insults, who was willing to take the time and use every resource necessary to make it work, is an act of complete selfishness.
I want to forgive. Not for him, but for myself. Yet I just cannot fathom ever forgiving him for pulling the rug from beneath his children's' feet. I have no idea how I'll ever forgive him for that.
We grow in marriage, tightening our grip on our past as we walk through the stages of the marriage. The bliss of the new beginning, the quiet nights spent reflecting on what the future shall bring, and the fruition of a dream as it comes out crying and full of life are all the glorious pieces of the marriage. Then there are the bills, the pressures from work, the crying babies, the lack of sleep, the maintenance of the house, the laundry, the groceries and the meals. Somewhere inside of that big mess are two people, gripping their past, riding the bumpy ride and losing sight of what the future will bring. It's easy to lose sight, lose hope, lose the idiosyncrasies of the other person that made you fall in love. And then one day, as your standing on a rug, piecing together the missing pieces, yearning for the past and the future to meet in a sweet kiss, you see your significant other race into the room, grip the rug in his hands and yank it from beneath your feet. A hasty, hasty decision and you know it's a mistake, you know it's the biggest mistake of his life, and you try. You try. You try. And finally, you stand up, straighten the rug and heavy with regret and fear and pity, you step out on your own.
I doubt very much that in ten years, the spouse who made the hasty decision will one day stand looking at his neighbors' house, or talking to a stranger on a plane will say it was the best decision of his life. It might be a better decision, sure, but the best? Can't be, not when there are kids involved. Kids who cry for their parents together, kids who were swept into the air by that yank of the rug and who are still landing, landing softly, maybe landing elsewhere. A hasty decision like that is selfish, but that decision had to be made that way because anyone who was looking outside of himself/herself in reflection upon the lives it affects would have never done it. A stronger person would have seen the damage and tried to thwart it, at least, tried.
I am reading a book, a list of things to know, written by three doctors. I just came across the following:
WHY DIVORCE HURTS CHILDREN
1. It signals the collapse of the family structure - the child feels alone and frightened. This loneliness can be acute and long remembered.
2. A couple's capacity to be parents is diminished. They are preoccupied with their own emotional survival during the critical months (or years) of divorce.
3. Divorce creates conflicts of loyalty in the children. Whose side do they take? They feel pulled by love and loyalty in both directions.
4. Uncertainty about the future often causes deep-seated insecurity in children. Being dependent mainly on one parent can create a great deal of anxiety.
5. Anger and resentment between parents, which is prevalent in most divorces, creates intense fear in the child. The younger he or she is, the more damaging the climate of anger can be.
6. Children take upon themselves anxiety concerning their parents. They worry intensely about their mother in particular, with the departure of the father being a terrifying event.
7. Divorce represents the loss of so many things that a deep depression is almost inevitable. Yet most parents fail to recognize depression in their children.
"The trauma of divorce is second only to death. Children sense a deep loss and feel they are suddenly vulnerable to forces beyond their control." -- Dr. Lee Salk
A decision to leave, made in haste, made in anger, made without a second thought, without looking at every factor involved is wrong; it's weak, it's wrong and when it is done in the face of a woman who tried desperately to paint the big picture, who was willing to work on forgiving the indiscretions and insults, who was willing to take the time and use every resource necessary to make it work, is an act of complete selfishness.
I want to forgive. Not for him, but for myself. Yet I just cannot fathom ever forgiving him for pulling the rug from beneath his children's' feet. I have no idea how I'll ever forgive him for that.
Friday, December 28, 2007
In the Middle
Gracie's tooth is rotten. She lost part of it and the vet pulled a chunk of wood about the size of a pinky nail that had been embedded in her gums. The wood came from the doorframe of my breezeway that she tore apart because of separation anxiety due to the abrupt departure of a premarital asset, my other dog, Sebastian.
On the way to the vet, I had the windows down because the odor from the rotten tooth had already made me throw up twice in the past day or so, and I wasn't about to do it all over myself in the car. When we got to the vet, he was closing shop but agreed to let me bring her in. He examined her mouth and told me I was looking at just under a thousand bucks to get the tooth pulled and all the medications necessary for her good health. I shrugged my shoulders, fought back tears and asked if it was any cheaper if I just got her put to sleep because there was no way I could afford a thousand bucks. I explained the financial situation (i.e. divorce) and the look he gave me was so sympathetic that I had to turn away from him. A few seconds after taking Gracie into the back room to extract the tooth, he walked into the room smiling from ear to ear. He said, "It's fortuitous that when I reached in to examine her mouth, her tooth and the chunk of wood came out on its own. You're just looking at the cost of antibiotics." I beamed in response and when he shook my hand to bid me farewell, he said, "There is light at the end of the tunnel, even though you're swimming in darkness right now." (He had gone through a divorce six years earlier).
On the way home I thought about the darkness I was feeling and started to get sad again. I sat at the red light, thinking. I looked out the driver's side window and saw a long white limousine with "just married" ribbons on the antenna. I chuckled sardonically and turned to my right, and saw a little boy with big tears, and red-rimmed eyes sitting in the backseat of the car that was following a hearse. And I cried.
My truck, smelly with rotten teeth, is the vehicle of choice and I found solace in the middle of the road. It looks like synchronicity is creeping forward.
On the way to the vet, I had the windows down because the odor from the rotten tooth had already made me throw up twice in the past day or so, and I wasn't about to do it all over myself in the car. When we got to the vet, he was closing shop but agreed to let me bring her in. He examined her mouth and told me I was looking at just under a thousand bucks to get the tooth pulled and all the medications necessary for her good health. I shrugged my shoulders, fought back tears and asked if it was any cheaper if I just got her put to sleep because there was no way I could afford a thousand bucks. I explained the financial situation (i.e. divorce) and the look he gave me was so sympathetic that I had to turn away from him. A few seconds after taking Gracie into the back room to extract the tooth, he walked into the room smiling from ear to ear. He said, "It's fortuitous that when I reached in to examine her mouth, her tooth and the chunk of wood came out on its own. You're just looking at the cost of antibiotics." I beamed in response and when he shook my hand to bid me farewell, he said, "There is light at the end of the tunnel, even though you're swimming in darkness right now." (He had gone through a divorce six years earlier).
On the way home I thought about the darkness I was feeling and started to get sad again. I sat at the red light, thinking. I looked out the driver's side window and saw a long white limousine with "just married" ribbons on the antenna. I chuckled sardonically and turned to my right, and saw a little boy with big tears, and red-rimmed eyes sitting in the backseat of the car that was following a hearse. And I cried.
My truck, smelly with rotten teeth, is the vehicle of choice and I found solace in the middle of the road. It looks like synchronicity is creeping forward.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Slap Happy
My discourse in self-pity is nearing its end. Everyone has to submerge themselves in it once in awhile, and the advice of my friends and family has been to submerge, maybe even go under holding my breath, and then get out and wrap myself in a warm towel. I am sitting at this computer with warm towels wrapped around my shoulders and draped across my knees. And it's just in time to celebrate Christmas properly! My plans for tomorrow (Christmas Day) have consisted of celebrating with a bottle of Grey Goose and a jar of olives, but now I think I'll go over to my friend's house for dessert and maybe a glass of wine. Maybe.
Clarity hit me while I was under. That's what did it. I realized that maybe my marriage was on the rocks, but we were still in the boat! The boat wasn't even leaking yet - our children were safe and dry and warm. But then he jumped out, and the splash was such that we all got soaked, me mostly. And for some reason I spent the last several months thinking that maybe I had pushed him, but knowing I didn't. I was loving the right way. Truth be told, I still love the right way. And what he did was wrong, pure and simple. It was wrong. I'll take the blame for perhaps sitting in the boat on the rocks for too long, but leaving like he did, was wrong. So, I can't feel sorry for myself any longer because the issue isn't really mine. I think of my brothers and a few male friends that I have and envision them in the same type of marriage that I had - and I know, acutely, that if they were to leave, if at all, they would have done it the right way. In my months of self-pity I was slapping the wrong person in the face! Now that clarity has surfaced, I am turning my hand outward. In my mind, I am taking aim and punching him straight across the mouth. And it feels sensational - sensational to know, finally, that I deserved better (and so did my kids).
Clarity hit me while I was under. That's what did it. I realized that maybe my marriage was on the rocks, but we were still in the boat! The boat wasn't even leaking yet - our children were safe and dry and warm. But then he jumped out, and the splash was such that we all got soaked, me mostly. And for some reason I spent the last several months thinking that maybe I had pushed him, but knowing I didn't. I was loving the right way. Truth be told, I still love the right way. And what he did was wrong, pure and simple. It was wrong. I'll take the blame for perhaps sitting in the boat on the rocks for too long, but leaving like he did, was wrong. So, I can't feel sorry for myself any longer because the issue isn't really mine. I think of my brothers and a few male friends that I have and envision them in the same type of marriage that I had - and I know, acutely, that if they were to leave, if at all, they would have done it the right way. In my months of self-pity I was slapping the wrong person in the face! Now that clarity has surfaced, I am turning my hand outward. In my mind, I am taking aim and punching him straight across the mouth. And it feels sensational - sensational to know, finally, that I deserved better (and so did my kids).
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Resolutions
Okay, one more for today - that'll be five. This one will be much more upbeat, as it is my annual list of new year's resolutions, and my resolutions are really, really, really easy to keep, except for maybe a few.
1) Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming... (from Finding Nemo)
2) Wash my face nightly.
3) Redline, redraft and publish my 'novel' (I guess it's not a novel yet, but it's a first draft, long enough to be a novel, and I wrote it this past year).
4) Game night (Wednesdays) with the kids.
5) Continue writing my blog.
6) Start my consulting business, on the side, until it becomes a money-maker.
7) Kick butt at work
8) Maybe start dating? (Ugh, it makes me gag to think about it - seriously, I looked like Jim Carrey in one of his movies where he gags. Any help here? Was it Liar-Liar?)
9) Take a writing workshop
10) Vacation with the kids and WITHOUT the kids.
11) Go horseback riding for the first time! (This has been on my list for the last 8 years and it needs to be done soon before osteoporosis sets in and it'll be too late).
12) Laugh! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha....
13) Keep smiling - my dimples, although thinning out now and stretching are defining elements of my face. I'll keep showing them off.
14) Sign Tony, Paige and myself up for karate - work toward that black belt. YA-HO (or whatever they grunt out as they kick in the air).
15) Get my teeth whitened so I have a beee-UUUUU-tiful smile...
16) Thank God every day and night for my wonderful family and friends.
1) Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming... (from Finding Nemo)
2) Wash my face nightly.
3) Redline, redraft and publish my 'novel' (I guess it's not a novel yet, but it's a first draft, long enough to be a novel, and I wrote it this past year).
4) Game night (Wednesdays) with the kids.
5) Continue writing my blog.
6) Start my consulting business, on the side, until it becomes a money-maker.
7) Kick butt at work
8) Maybe start dating? (Ugh, it makes me gag to think about it - seriously, I looked like Jim Carrey in one of his movies where he gags. Any help here? Was it Liar-Liar?)
9) Take a writing workshop
10) Vacation with the kids and WITHOUT the kids.
11) Go horseback riding for the first time! (This has been on my list for the last 8 years and it needs to be done soon before osteoporosis sets in and it'll be too late).
12) Laugh! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha....
13) Keep smiling - my dimples, although thinning out now and stretching are defining elements of my face. I'll keep showing them off.
14) Sign Tony, Paige and myself up for karate - work toward that black belt. YA-HO (or whatever they grunt out as they kick in the air).
15) Get my teeth whitened so I have a beee-UUUUU-tiful smile...
16) Thank God every day and night for my wonderful family and friends.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
A Merry Little Christmas
It was eight years ago that I moved to Maryland, and it was my first Christmas season spent away from the family. I was working in Baltimore city at the time and absolutely hated the atmosphere - bums begging for money, drunks trying to hug you, homeless people sleeping on the air vents of the city for warmth, smoke billowing around them. The sound of distant sirens and car horns filled the air. I had been working for a law firm, putting in twelve hour days, my eyes straining from staring at word after word about asbestos liability. I was tired, I was lonesome and I was homesick.
A friend of mine at the firm asked me out to lunch. It was the first time I ever said yes as I was usually to preoccupied with work. We pulled on our warm coats, secured the scarves around our necks and stepped out into the city. We walked a couple blocks, and stopped for soup and salad. She talked me into taking a stroll by the shops to look in at some of the Christmas displays. We laughed a little, but the ho-hum of my spirits was weighing me down. I shook my head at the cold, homeless people when they held their hands out for money, annoyed by it. We stepped inside a shop so she could pick up a last minute gift and I was annoyed. I remember standing by the door impatiently as she made her purchase, waiting to get back to the office so that maybe I could finish an hour earlier. Sensing my aggravation, she smiled and hurried next to me. We stepped outside and walked to a busy intersection. At the corner was a man playing the trumpet for money; his clothes were disheveled, his gray beard grungy with dirt. I looked at him, shook my head and watched as he put that trumpet to his lips. He began to play "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" and as we stood and waited for the 'walk' sign to turn green, tears streamed down my face. It was the most beautiful version of that song I had ever heard. I reached into my pocket, grabbing for bills and threw money in the empty case beside him. From that moment on, my heart was lighter and I went back to the office, packed up my belongings and went home for the rest of the day.
The Christmas spirit grabbed me yesterday. I traveled to D.C. with the kids and some friends and we visited the National Christmas tree, majestic in its height and girth; the kids were thrilled with Frosty and Rudolph, and I ate the best damn chili dog I've ever had. The sadness over this Christmas was shivered away as I walked in the cold of D.C. I wanted to be immersed in my own self-pity this Christmas, but it's impossible. Impossible because I have a family and friends that are unbelievable. To all of you, have yourselves a merry little Christmas. Here are the words:
Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas
Written by Ralph Blane, Hugh Martin
Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Let your heart be light
From now on your troubles will be out of sight, yeah
Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Make the Yuletide gay
From now on your troubles will be miles away, oh ooh
Here we are as in olden days
Happy golden days of yore, ah
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us, once more, ooh
Through the years we all will be together
If the fates allow
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough, ohh
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now
Oooh...
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us, once more, ohh
Through the years we all will be together
If the fates allow, oh yeah
But 'til then we'll have to muddle through, somehow
Oh yeah, oh ooh oh
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now
A friend of mine at the firm asked me out to lunch. It was the first time I ever said yes as I was usually to preoccupied with work. We pulled on our warm coats, secured the scarves around our necks and stepped out into the city. We walked a couple blocks, and stopped for soup and salad. She talked me into taking a stroll by the shops to look in at some of the Christmas displays. We laughed a little, but the ho-hum of my spirits was weighing me down. I shook my head at the cold, homeless people when they held their hands out for money, annoyed by it. We stepped inside a shop so she could pick up a last minute gift and I was annoyed. I remember standing by the door impatiently as she made her purchase, waiting to get back to the office so that maybe I could finish an hour earlier. Sensing my aggravation, she smiled and hurried next to me. We stepped outside and walked to a busy intersection. At the corner was a man playing the trumpet for money; his clothes were disheveled, his gray beard grungy with dirt. I looked at him, shook my head and watched as he put that trumpet to his lips. He began to play "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" and as we stood and waited for the 'walk' sign to turn green, tears streamed down my face. It was the most beautiful version of that song I had ever heard. I reached into my pocket, grabbing for bills and threw money in the empty case beside him. From that moment on, my heart was lighter and I went back to the office, packed up my belongings and went home for the rest of the day.
The Christmas spirit grabbed me yesterday. I traveled to D.C. with the kids and some friends and we visited the National Christmas tree, majestic in its height and girth; the kids were thrilled with Frosty and Rudolph, and I ate the best damn chili dog I've ever had. The sadness over this Christmas was shivered away as I walked in the cold of D.C. I wanted to be immersed in my own self-pity this Christmas, but it's impossible. Impossible because I have a family and friends that are unbelievable. To all of you, have yourselves a merry little Christmas. Here are the words:
Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas
Written by Ralph Blane, Hugh Martin
Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Let your heart be light
From now on your troubles will be out of sight, yeah
Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Make the Yuletide gay
From now on your troubles will be miles away, oh ooh
Here we are as in olden days
Happy golden days of yore, ah
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us, once more, ooh
Through the years we all will be together
If the fates allow
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough, ohh
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now
Oooh...
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us, once more, ohh
Through the years we all will be together
If the fates allow, oh yeah
But 'til then we'll have to muddle through, somehow
Oh yeah, oh ooh oh
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now
Changing Seasons in a Changing World
I'm in the market for a leaf blower. It is number one on my list of Christmas Gifts to receive. My house is surrounded by tall poplars, bushy oaks, a black walnut tree and I think, if they weren't all removed to make room for the kids' playset, a couple of cherry trees. There are leaves everywhere. And I am noticing them more than ever this fall season.
Perhaps I am noticing them because of the sheer amount of them in my driveway, on my lawn, in my house - tracked in from the dogs. But they are everywhere. They remind me of how my year has gone thus far.
Yes, it is close to the end of 2007 and every year about this time I begin to reflect upon the year so that I can write a year end summation on New Year's Eve. I've done it every year since 1995. This year it will be "the year of the fallen leaves"; in 2005 it was the year of "the dark horse"; and in my 2006 summation, I simply labeled it, "good riddance 2005". I could easily say the same for 2007, but it wasn't such a bad year. Many, many parts of it were bad - the leaves fell heavily on my home this year. I am kicking them up every day, in every way. But I am also seeing them blow by me, onto my neighbors' lawn and maybe that's good for me, but I'd take them all. Why should my neighbors have to clean up a mess of leaves when I already have a mess of my own? I'd rake my friends' lawns and the lawns of every one of my family if I could. But I can't. That's why a leaf blower would be nice.
Ironically, I did have a leaf blower. I used it in the early spring to fill up the kids swimming pool - sticking the blowy end into the hole to get some air so that they'd have somewhere to swim in the hot summer months. By the end of summer, the long nails of my thirsty dogs dug a hole in the pool and the thing deflated. After I patched it with duct tape, I pulled the pulley thing on the leaf blower and found that it didn't budge. It just quit on me. The damn thing must have been left out in the rain - neglect, or maybe it was just time for it to say good-bye. In any case, I no longer have a leaf blower but I have all these leaves that I just don't know what to do with.
I guess I'll pull the rake from the garage and start making piles. I'm not raking the leaves to make my house look nicer. My house looks just great - especially when the kids are in it to make it a home. I am doing it for the kids - so that they can use all those fallen leaves and find pleasure - to jump in, roll in and throw around. Those leaves, some the size of my head, falling down all around them. What pleasure to fall onto, stomp to bits and throw at each other... all those leaves just waiting for their little feet and hands.
I changed my mind. I'm in the market for a camera.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Untitled
It is about this time every year that I begin writing my year end summation. But this year, I cannot get my mind wrapped around anything. I believe that it is because there is just so much to think about. I find that the only thing I can really grasp is the relationship developing between my daughter and son, and how my little family of three is evolving into something rather spectacular. Yes, I still wish it was a family of four with happiness abound but what I long for (peripherally) and what it is are two very different things. Doesn't everyone wish for something better?
When Tony was around six months old, I wrote a letter to him. Paige was in her bedroom napping and Tony and I sat on my bed. I would tickle his belly and wait for his reaction, his blue, blue eyes touching me and reminding me that I brought him into this world. We were the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes and although it may not be remarkable for him, it was amazing for us. And it still is. After some time of tickling him, he drifted off to sleep, his little legs open wide, his feet touching, one arm across his belly, the other above his head. I remember sitting beside him and staring at him. It has been three years and the picture is still so clear in my head. As I said, I wrote a letter to him... told him how much his mommy and daddy and sister loved him, that we'd always be there for him, etc.
The other day the kids came home to me after three nights with their father. I missed them terribly and probably setting them up to be serial killers with Mommy abandonment issues, I allowed them both to sleep in my bed with me. Paige on the deserted side, Tony in the middle and me in my usual spot. After reading and prayers, we promptly fell asleep. As is always the case, I woke up about twenty minutes later and had to give up on falling back to sleep for at least four hours - it is impossible when there are rats chewing on my subconscious and bicycles spinning out of control in this blizzard that is my mind. I turned on the lamp, picked up my book and started to read. Still unfocused, I set the book on my chest and listened to my children breathe as they slept. They were face to face, Paige's thumb stuck in her mouth as though it grew from her tongue and Tony's mouth wide open. Her arm was slung across his body and his was above his head touching her forehead. Beautiful. Poetic. Magical. As I stared at them, I thought about the different types of love we build in this world, and the love between a brother and sister is simply, I can't even think of the word! They eat, sleep, fight, breathe, play, and sing each other. Where he ends, she begins and the time they spend apart from each other (which is only for a few hours at school) results in a reunion for them. They hug and act as though they were separated from each other for years. It is purely innocent and straightforward and real. Even their fights are real. There are no hidden agendas in picking a fight; they don't argue with the intention that maybe they'll touch on a more deep-seated problem; they don't make up to smooth things over until the next go 'round. They fight because he won't share, or because she was mean. They apologize, it's over and forgotten. It's not because they are children either. It's the same way with my brothers and sisters. We may argue, we may bicker but there is no resentment, no cause for finding fault. When it is over, it is over. I wonder is it the same for all families? Is it the same for all siblings? I would like to think it is because truly, the sibling relationship is one where you are forced to know the person inside out as you grow up; you can look in that person's eyes and know what they are feeling, even if it is impossible to know what they are thinking; and what you end up with at the end of a day, a week, a year, a lifetime is a set of shared experiences.
I know there are families out there that aren't like this - where brothers and sisters haven't talked to one another in years. In mine, it's not like that. I cannot even relate to that. My sister-in-law put it into words today like I've never heard: We poop and wipe each other's butts with our personalities and shared experiences. We work together to forgive, we come together to hug, we make it a point to "get over it". If only all relationships were like this! How is it that parents can forgive children, children can forgive parents, sisters can forgive brothers, brothers can forgive sisters, but divorce is so apparent. Can't we all learn from the unconditional love we develop in our immediate families? Is it just my family? I find myself trying to break out of this mode of understanding so that I can actively tear myself apart from my marriage - breaking off the unconditional aspect of the love so that I can move on. When I look at my children, although proud that they are growing together in such a way, I am disheartened that learning this type of love will slow them down. The wam-bam, thank you mam mentality so much easier to move away from - especially in breaking the ties that bind us together.
My husband and I shared the sight of our child's gaze on that first day, but it didn't create the bond that I surmised it did. Yet, my children have something stronger already. Why is that?
When Tony was around six months old, I wrote a letter to him. Paige was in her bedroom napping and Tony and I sat on my bed. I would tickle his belly and wait for his reaction, his blue, blue eyes touching me and reminding me that I brought him into this world. We were the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes and although it may not be remarkable for him, it was amazing for us. And it still is. After some time of tickling him, he drifted off to sleep, his little legs open wide, his feet touching, one arm across his belly, the other above his head. I remember sitting beside him and staring at him. It has been three years and the picture is still so clear in my head. As I said, I wrote a letter to him... told him how much his mommy and daddy and sister loved him, that we'd always be there for him, etc.
The other day the kids came home to me after three nights with their father. I missed them terribly and probably setting them up to be serial killers with Mommy abandonment issues, I allowed them both to sleep in my bed with me. Paige on the deserted side, Tony in the middle and me in my usual spot. After reading and prayers, we promptly fell asleep. As is always the case, I woke up about twenty minutes later and had to give up on falling back to sleep for at least four hours - it is impossible when there are rats chewing on my subconscious and bicycles spinning out of control in this blizzard that is my mind. I turned on the lamp, picked up my book and started to read. Still unfocused, I set the book on my chest and listened to my children breathe as they slept. They were face to face, Paige's thumb stuck in her mouth as though it grew from her tongue and Tony's mouth wide open. Her arm was slung across his body and his was above his head touching her forehead. Beautiful. Poetic. Magical. As I stared at them, I thought about the different types of love we build in this world, and the love between a brother and sister is simply, I can't even think of the word! They eat, sleep, fight, breathe, play, and sing each other. Where he ends, she begins and the time they spend apart from each other (which is only for a few hours at school) results in a reunion for them. They hug and act as though they were separated from each other for years. It is purely innocent and straightforward and real. Even their fights are real. There are no hidden agendas in picking a fight; they don't argue with the intention that maybe they'll touch on a more deep-seated problem; they don't make up to smooth things over until the next go 'round. They fight because he won't share, or because she was mean. They apologize, it's over and forgotten. It's not because they are children either. It's the same way with my brothers and sisters. We may argue, we may bicker but there is no resentment, no cause for finding fault. When it is over, it is over. I wonder is it the same for all families? Is it the same for all siblings? I would like to think it is because truly, the sibling relationship is one where you are forced to know the person inside out as you grow up; you can look in that person's eyes and know what they are feeling, even if it is impossible to know what they are thinking; and what you end up with at the end of a day, a week, a year, a lifetime is a set of shared experiences.
I know there are families out there that aren't like this - where brothers and sisters haven't talked to one another in years. In mine, it's not like that. I cannot even relate to that. My sister-in-law put it into words today like I've never heard: We poop and wipe each other's butts with our personalities and shared experiences. We work together to forgive, we come together to hug, we make it a point to "get over it". If only all relationships were like this! How is it that parents can forgive children, children can forgive parents, sisters can forgive brothers, brothers can forgive sisters, but divorce is so apparent. Can't we all learn from the unconditional love we develop in our immediate families? Is it just my family? I find myself trying to break out of this mode of understanding so that I can actively tear myself apart from my marriage - breaking off the unconditional aspect of the love so that I can move on. When I look at my children, although proud that they are growing together in such a way, I am disheartened that learning this type of love will slow them down. The wam-bam, thank you mam mentality so much easier to move away from - especially in breaking the ties that bind us together.
My husband and I shared the sight of our child's gaze on that first day, but it didn't create the bond that I surmised it did. Yet, my children have something stronger already. Why is that?
Friday, December 14, 2007
The State of Grace
How great to be a dog. Clueless, fed and nurtured. Just look at her! Such intelligence! She knocks on the door every thirty seconds whether she wants to go outside or not, she wrinkles her snout to greet me in the morning. She is the girl that reached atop the counter and pulled down a two pound bag of sugar and tore it open around the entire house. She is the girl that tore every shoe, every piece of paper, everything that wasn't attached to the wall into pieces.
I come home at night and her nubby is wagging. I go into the bathroom and she follows me, looking into my eyes so lovingly. She takes up my entire side of the bed when there is a desolate space beside me. She is my girl. Gracie. Grace. And here I am, full of Grace.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Dating Owen Wilson
I have a confession to make. I've been secretly dating Owen Wilson since last May. It started out very innocent. Of course, I had toyed with the idea for some time, but it never really got started until about mid-May, and I honestly didn't know I was dating him until one night I woke up from a dream (a very innocent dream) and realized that he was the man in my novel. His blue, blue eyes were the eyes I was envisioning, his voice the voice I was hearing, and his nose, oh God, his crookedly imperfect nose was the nose I was fantasizing about when I created one of the characters for my book. He was already a big part of my life before I awoke from that dream, but that dream gave me the name to go with his face. He's certainly not handsome in the George Clooney kind of handsomeness (George is Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Cary Grant rolled into one magnificent package), but Owen has that something - sweet, bad boy, innocent, naughty texture of character. And I've had the good fortune of dating him inside my little head. [In case you're wondering, my hope is that you'll fall in love with the character in my book as I did, and when it becomes a movie, and Owen has the lead, you'll look back on this blog post in delight!]
I am quite happy dating Owen Wilson. I have no desire to date anyone else at the moment. There are two reasons for this: One, despite what others may do or think, I am still married, albeit, quite unhappily; and two, the thought of dating someone makes me vomit in my mouth a little bit (thanks Cliff for that term - it's funny and describes exactly how I feel). I've been asked out on dates since separating and I've kindly turned the askers down - it has nothing to do with them, I'm just not interested; and if they're nice guys, I'm definitely not interested because I am too emotionally neurotic to date a nice guy. How utterly distasteful and disrespectful to go out with a nice guy given the state I am in.
Yet, Owen is a nice guy. He was the voice of Lightning McQueen in the movie CARS - my kids' favorite movie right now. And aside from that, he's fantastic! He opens doors for me, he lets me run my pointer finger along the big knot in his hugely fantastic nose, he smiles that crooked smile at me and his eyes well up whenever he notices my inner and outer beauty. I am a pawn in his dating game. When he attempted suicide, I prayed for him. I put aside all my woes and selfish prayers and sent well-wishes out to him that he would recover from this emotional upset just as I am recovering. I figure if he was messed up enough to attempt suicide, we're about even in our healing process because although I'd never attempt to kill myself, a part of me was close to death. We both need reviving and some time for healing.
Tony received a wonderful gift for Christmas. It is a Lightning McQueen car with four buttons on it. The first button makes the revving noise of the car, the second says, "I'm Lightning McQueen", the third says, "Ca-chow!" and the fourth, I don't remember. I am pathetically lonely sometimes, and I have been moving through this loneliness without realizing it. That is, until I found myself pushing the second and third button just to hear Owen's voice. One night, after the kids were tucked into bed, I discovered the car had been carelessly left on the deserted side of the bed by Tony. I rolled over on my pillow to face it, and reached up and pushed the second button.
"I'm Lightning McQueen!"
I giggled and said, "You're not Lightning McQueen, you're Owen, my sweet, darling Owen..."
Then I pushed the third button and he said, "Ca-chow!" And we laughed and laughed.
My loneliness abated in an instant. I slept cuddled up to that car and fell into a wonderful fantasy... me and Owen, hand in hand, cured of our mental and emotional instability... running barefoot on the beach, our hair wrestling with the wind... sigh...
I am not quite ready to start dating, but by the time the Oscars roll around... who knows? I am a fantastic date, when and if Owen gets up the nerve to ask. Ca-chow!
I am quite happy dating Owen Wilson. I have no desire to date anyone else at the moment. There are two reasons for this: One, despite what others may do or think, I am still married, albeit, quite unhappily; and two, the thought of dating someone makes me vomit in my mouth a little bit (thanks Cliff for that term - it's funny and describes exactly how I feel). I've been asked out on dates since separating and I've kindly turned the askers down - it has nothing to do with them, I'm just not interested; and if they're nice guys, I'm definitely not interested because I am too emotionally neurotic to date a nice guy. How utterly distasteful and disrespectful to go out with a nice guy given the state I am in.
Yet, Owen is a nice guy. He was the voice of Lightning McQueen in the movie CARS - my kids' favorite movie right now. And aside from that, he's fantastic! He opens doors for me, he lets me run my pointer finger along the big knot in his hugely fantastic nose, he smiles that crooked smile at me and his eyes well up whenever he notices my inner and outer beauty. I am a pawn in his dating game. When he attempted suicide, I prayed for him. I put aside all my woes and selfish prayers and sent well-wishes out to him that he would recover from this emotional upset just as I am recovering. I figure if he was messed up enough to attempt suicide, we're about even in our healing process because although I'd never attempt to kill myself, a part of me was close to death. We both need reviving and some time for healing.
Tony received a wonderful gift for Christmas. It is a Lightning McQueen car with four buttons on it. The first button makes the revving noise of the car, the second says, "I'm Lightning McQueen", the third says, "Ca-chow!" and the fourth, I don't remember. I am pathetically lonely sometimes, and I have been moving through this loneliness without realizing it. That is, until I found myself pushing the second and third button just to hear Owen's voice. One night, after the kids were tucked into bed, I discovered the car had been carelessly left on the deserted side of the bed by Tony. I rolled over on my pillow to face it, and reached up and pushed the second button.
"I'm Lightning McQueen!"
I giggled and said, "You're not Lightning McQueen, you're Owen, my sweet, darling Owen..."
Then I pushed the third button and he said, "Ca-chow!" And we laughed and laughed.
My loneliness abated in an instant. I slept cuddled up to that car and fell into a wonderful fantasy... me and Owen, hand in hand, cured of our mental and emotional instability... running barefoot on the beach, our hair wrestling with the wind... sigh...
I am not quite ready to start dating, but by the time the Oscars roll around... who knows? I am a fantastic date, when and if Owen gets up the nerve to ask. Ca-chow!
Undoing What Has Been Done
The stadium was quiet, eager graduates waited in anticipation to hear words of wisdom from a notoriously inspiring leader. Winston Churchill stood at a podium, tapped on the microphone, cleared his throat and said, "Never give up. Never, never give up. Never, never, never give up."
His speech consisted of twelve words and it caused a standing ovation.
I read this quote shortly after separating and I thought I could live by it. After all, I committed myself to not giving up. And we all know the famous saying, "Winners never quit and quitters never win." And even the bible talks about keeping your covenants, adhering to your scruples and your commitments.
Here's another quote: The uncommitted life isn't worth living.
No, I'm not going to kill myself. Puleeze! I am just perplexed by the intensity of my commitment and my undeterred need to keep it. Isn't that insane?
And it all commingles with faith - that leap of faith you take when you commit your life to someone else... faith in your abilities, faith in theirs and faith that it won't change; that you won't have to give up.
I was straightjacketed on the leap of that faith. As I swirl around the air, hoping to land on my two feet, I realize I have to give up. I have to give up when Winston Churchill and the core of me tells me that I should never, never, never give up.
Writing this blog is therapy. I write it first for myself, and I am writing today to make it clear to myself that I am giving up. I am giving up as I write these words. Not a very proud moment for me. I am giving up on a commitment. I have to tell my children that I gave up on loving their daddy. And then, hypocritically, I have to tell them to keep their promises, no matter what because that it's integrity. It's integrity that will help them live their days without their own worst enemy keeping them awake at night. (Thanks to my best friend Bruce for that thought).
Again, for the six thousandth time I am sickened by what this is doing to the core of me. Yet Aristotle once said, "We cannot learn without pain." Nice lesson.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Hungry Heart
She fed off the delicacies of her family, nibbled on the morsels of her friends. The discovery of new things, of young, of old; the feel of nice clothes on her skin, the beauty of the trees, of the sun; the beauty of every day filled her. Sometimes she was lonely until dawn, until the dusk, until the dawn again.
Stepping outside, she planted a garden of greens and reds and yellows. She nurtured the natural and witnessed the seedlings and buds and finally maturity. Taking a lovely bite, she observed, then clasped her hands, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Maturity. She tasted every morsel, shared every event and smiled. Feeding her soul, filling the emptiness and discovered her well fed heart. She had been carried safely to His arms. Dining with friends, dining alone, she smiled. Lonely only until the dawn now.
She prays for him. (She loves her kids). He took a wrong turn, starving inside. Biting into money, biting into sex, biting into power, time and success. A hungry heart revealed the gorging on romance, laughter or quiet, always courting the unfed soul... hungry until the dawn, until the dusk, until the dawn again.
Her satiated heart permits her to share. And praying, she hopes in love and kindness, that he feeds off the morsels she has left behind so that his heart is no longer hungry and he'll be carried safely into His arms. She'll always treasure her fullness and the morsels she'll provide to anyone who is empty, and hungry and in need of a good meal. She loves her kids. Truth be told...
Joy and longing can only be fed by falling and looking up, and taking a hand and feeding. And then giving the extras away, until the dawn, until the dusk, until the dawn again.
Stepping outside, she planted a garden of greens and reds and yellows. She nurtured the natural and witnessed the seedlings and buds and finally maturity. Taking a lovely bite, she observed, then clasped her hands, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Maturity. She tasted every morsel, shared every event and smiled. Feeding her soul, filling the emptiness and discovered her well fed heart. She had been carried safely to His arms. Dining with friends, dining alone, she smiled. Lonely only until the dawn now.
She prays for him. (She loves her kids). He took a wrong turn, starving inside. Biting into money, biting into sex, biting into power, time and success. A hungry heart revealed the gorging on romance, laughter or quiet, always courting the unfed soul... hungry until the dawn, until the dusk, until the dawn again.
Her satiated heart permits her to share. And praying, she hopes in love and kindness, that he feeds off the morsels she has left behind so that his heart is no longer hungry and he'll be carried safely into His arms. She'll always treasure her fullness and the morsels she'll provide to anyone who is empty, and hungry and in need of a good meal. She loves her kids. Truth be told...
Joy and longing can only be fed by falling and looking up, and taking a hand and feeding. And then giving the extras away, until the dawn, until the dusk, until the dawn again.
Up Before the Dawn
It is still dark outside, I have a fresh cup of coffee beside me and the house is quiet. It might be the perfect beginning of the perfect day. The potential is there. Nothing stands in my way. Like Chicken Little, I feel like reciting "today is a new day." I'll take a sip of coffee now and listen to the voices in my head... relax.
Way too much to do this morning; more than most do their entire day. Well, maybe not, but by nine tonight I'll be wiped out. Relax. What can I do today that will make this day different than those I've had for the past several months? Stop thinking. Stop worrying. Stop wondering. And dammit, stop regretting.
Christmas is coming up. I have no desire to celebrate it. I am going through the motions, the false smiles for the kids, reading them Christmas stories, making a Gingerbread house, getting them presents. But I'm not excited about the holiday this year - the pomp and circumstance of it. If I could I would forego the gift giving, the merriment and just concentrate on the meaning of the holiday by going to church and celebrating the birth of Jesus. I wouldn't mind slinking into my bed until it's all over either. Yet, the excitement of the kids over jolly old St. Nick will not allow this. And maybe that is how it is supposed to be. Every other year, I am the kid digging candy canes, wearing Santa hats, wrapping presents and wanting to give and give and give... excited to see everyone open their gifts. Maybe this year, I am supposed to just observe. I guess it's all a choice. I can choose to be depressed about this holiday, or I can embrace my grief and just trudge through it, celebrating the moment.
Paige is up now. She walked into my bedroom, a blankie slung on one arm, holding her stuffed Eeyore in the crook of the arm that has the thumb she's stuffed in her mouth. She was crying, "I had a bad dream Mommy. I dreamed that super hero Paige couldn't find her crayons and she was frustrated." (Yeah, she's only four, but her vocabulary is amazing, thanks to her mommy!) I pulled her onto my lap in this desk chair and held her. Then I whispered in her ear, "Mommy had a bad dream too." She pulled back and looked into my eyes and said, "What did you dream?" I answered, sweetly as I brushed the hair back from her face, "I had a dreamed I pooped in the bed." She giggled, then laughed, then put her head back on my chest, relaxed again. And that is a great way to start the morning.
Way too much to do this morning; more than most do their entire day. Well, maybe not, but by nine tonight I'll be wiped out. Relax. What can I do today that will make this day different than those I've had for the past several months? Stop thinking. Stop worrying. Stop wondering. And dammit, stop regretting.
Christmas is coming up. I have no desire to celebrate it. I am going through the motions, the false smiles for the kids, reading them Christmas stories, making a Gingerbread house, getting them presents. But I'm not excited about the holiday this year - the pomp and circumstance of it. If I could I would forego the gift giving, the merriment and just concentrate on the meaning of the holiday by going to church and celebrating the birth of Jesus. I wouldn't mind slinking into my bed until it's all over either. Yet, the excitement of the kids over jolly old St. Nick will not allow this. And maybe that is how it is supposed to be. Every other year, I am the kid digging candy canes, wearing Santa hats, wrapping presents and wanting to give and give and give... excited to see everyone open their gifts. Maybe this year, I am supposed to just observe. I guess it's all a choice. I can choose to be depressed about this holiday, or I can embrace my grief and just trudge through it, celebrating the moment.
Paige is up now. She walked into my bedroom, a blankie slung on one arm, holding her stuffed Eeyore in the crook of the arm that has the thumb she's stuffed in her mouth. She was crying, "I had a bad dream Mommy. I dreamed that super hero Paige couldn't find her crayons and she was frustrated." (Yeah, she's only four, but her vocabulary is amazing, thanks to her mommy!) I pulled her onto my lap in this desk chair and held her. Then I whispered in her ear, "Mommy had a bad dream too." She pulled back and looked into my eyes and said, "What did you dream?" I answered, sweetly as I brushed the hair back from her face, "I had a dreamed I pooped in the bed." She giggled, then laughed, then put her head back on my chest, relaxed again. And that is a great way to start the morning.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
One Step Up
I feel like Julia Roberts' character in Sleeping With the Enemy. If you'll recall, Julia was a victim of physical abuse - her husband beat the crap out of her for not having the bath towels perfectly positioned. (No, I wasn't getting beaten - that's not the part of the movie I can relate to). After some time, she began collecting money, and she faked her death and ran away. (Nope, can't relate to that either). She found a small town, bought a house and started to make it a home, painting, decorating, cleaning. (That's not the part). She met a boy (Oh, gag, nope not the part) and they danced to Brown Eyed Girl and fell in love, blah, blah, blah. (Can't relate). There is one tiny scene where she sees the bath towels are askew (love that word!) and she straightens them up... but in a split second, she messes them up again - a decision to rebel against the husband who had her trained to make things straight when they got crooked. (I can relate!)
I felt good today. Finally cleaned the kids play room - it looks marvelous. Then, on a cleaning binge I decided to rearrange the living room and kitchen/eating area today. I turned the sofa, moved some plants, completely turned the kitchen table so it sits lengthwise now, put out new throws, and basically did everything I have wanted to do for some time but was always met with opposition. I don't think it was a control thing, I think he just liked things the way he liked them and I didn't really care. But today, I did it my way!
You may think this isn't a big deal, moving furniture and rearranging. But for me, it is. It is finally caring about how I would like to see things. The way the furniture was arranged didn't matter to me because it mattered more to him and so I just let it be. But now, I care. It's my home and I want to walk into it, look at it and say, I did this. I chose, I moved, I will enjoy it. It was a step forward, people. A fancy jump toward the new year. [And you know what, it is the year of the Rat in Chinese Astrology. And I am a rat! I am a rat in the year of the rat. I couldn't ask for a better position in the Chinese sky].
It was a step toward my future - and it caused excitement because there are so many other things I want to do and I just have to make up my mind and do them. How exciting, and how completely pathetic that I didn't realize it sooner. It makes me wonder how many people are out there, bored, doing puzzles on the computer, reading books to escape, drinking to be social and lively, and remaining stagnant when all they want to do is take a step forward. Here is your push: choose, move and enjoy!
I felt good today. Finally cleaned the kids play room - it looks marvelous. Then, on a cleaning binge I decided to rearrange the living room and kitchen/eating area today. I turned the sofa, moved some plants, completely turned the kitchen table so it sits lengthwise now, put out new throws, and basically did everything I have wanted to do for some time but was always met with opposition. I don't think it was a control thing, I think he just liked things the way he liked them and I didn't really care. But today, I did it my way!
You may think this isn't a big deal, moving furniture and rearranging. But for me, it is. It is finally caring about how I would like to see things. The way the furniture was arranged didn't matter to me because it mattered more to him and so I just let it be. But now, I care. It's my home and I want to walk into it, look at it and say, I did this. I chose, I moved, I will enjoy it. It was a step forward, people. A fancy jump toward the new year. [And you know what, it is the year of the Rat in Chinese Astrology. And I am a rat! I am a rat in the year of the rat. I couldn't ask for a better position in the Chinese sky].
It was a step toward my future - and it caused excitement because there are so many other things I want to do and I just have to make up my mind and do them. How exciting, and how completely pathetic that I didn't realize it sooner. It makes me wonder how many people are out there, bored, doing puzzles on the computer, reading books to escape, drinking to be social and lively, and remaining stagnant when all they want to do is take a step forward. Here is your push: choose, move and enjoy!
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