Recently in Parenting Category

I know I complain a lot about my kids. I know sometimes I focus on the worst of them, not the best. And sometimes I resent the fact that I am the sole parent and provider for our family of three, especially when I am not allowed to have a moment to myself while the sperm donor can go a month without even thinking about them.

I have to say, though, that most of my complaining comes from guilt. Guilt that I am not a better mom. Guilt that I want a moment to myself. Guilt that as a sole parent and provider, I am not able to provide everything they need ... time, money, clothes, toys, indulgences that their friends all have. Guilt that I, by choosing this life of single parenthood, have cheated them out of a normal childhood. And now I'm facing guilt that by putting myself through school for my second licensure so that I could get a better job (and being "insufferable" in the process ... my daughter's word for me) and then NOT getting it ... well, I have screwed up, big time.

Go ahead, say it. Suck it up. Cry a river, build a bridge and GET OVER IT. Keep your eyes on the prize.

Yeah. I'm trying. I really am. I've been trying since December. It's not getting better. Or at least it keeps coming back.

I find myself now with only 3 weeks left of the school year in front of me, a week of work after that, and a full summer to recuperate because I didn't ask to be a part of Summer Academy and I'm not taking any classes and I'm not spending the entire summer working for once.

So what am I going to do? Can I make up all my parenting deficiencies in 10 short weeks?

I don't know. T won't be coming down until sometime in July ... and I shouldn't complain because he was here all last summer helping me move and get settled and then recover from surgery but it still hurts, this distance growing larger every day. Sure, I am going up there for a wedding at the end of this month and for a race next month but those will be one day events, with me rushing to get back home because of the kids. Because I can't leave them with anyone. Because of the guilt.


It all comes down to being brought up Catholic, I'm sure of it.

When I Close My Eyes
by Jim Papoulis

When I close my eyes I can see,
When I close my eyes I'm alive,
When I close my eyes then I can see
And I am not afraid.

When I try not to see the reasons why,
If I ever could understand,
I would find the hope to let me try
And I am not afraid.

Take me to the river, take me to the sea,
Climb the highest mountain
And go there with me.
When I close my eyes then I can see
And I am not afraid.

Now I am learning the magic within me
and that is the reason I am standing so tall.
Deep in my heart is a voice that is speaking,
If I keep believing then I will not fall.

Take me to where the wind blows,
Take me to the sun.
Take me to the river that flows to the sea.
When I try to see the reasons why,
If I ever could understand.
I would find the hope to let me try
And I am not afraid.


from SOUNDS OF A BETTER WORLD
ed. by Francisco J. Nunez



Sung by an incredibly talented group of young singers, of course that brought tears to my eyes. My daughter was part of the older group, the Youth Chorale, who followed the littler ones. I'm glad I came out of my routine enough to let her join the Choral Society. She obviously loves singing and has great respect for the music they chose. I watched proudly as they sang songs in German, Latin, Hebrew and finished up with a good ole' American Folk Song. She stood tall, strong, brave ... I thought she looked very professional. Was that my girl?  *checks program* Yeppers. Who knew?

A follow-up to a book I read to my students last month, Ice Bear ... come on, people, we have got to do something to ensure their survival. I will be linking to more anti-consumerism, pro-environmental issues. I want my kids to have a future and there should be polar bears in it.

It's my fault he did it, because I went out to the car and left him alone in the house.At least that's what he said.

About 4 inches long and an inch or so wide, the hole in my wall is going to take some patching. I'm not doing it.  If he wants to ball his 16 year old fists like a man, then he can spackle like a man.

I've been crying for four hours today. worse than yesterday, though yesterday I slept away the stress instead of crying. The day before I had a few crying jags and a heaping helping of insomnia. This recent bout of teenage assholery is wearing me down. I'm ready for boot camp. Or a therapist. Both for him, natch. I'll be right as rain once all this stops.


Seriously, I divorced the X because of the emotional bullying and I was feeling it again tonight. Blaming me for making him lose his temper. Guilting me into apologizing when I was the one being attacked.  Making me afraid to say anything for fear of starting another argument. I've just shut down over the past few days. I can't fall into the pattern of withdrawal for protection again, not from a 16 year old. This is my house. My rules. My family.

Damn, I hope this hole can be fixed.

Merriam-Webster has announced the Word if the Year for 2007. You'll never guess what it is.




Another overheard from last night. Driving around Greenville looking at Christmas lights with three teenage boys while listening to Dethklok, I noticed how you could interchange the word ROFLcopter for Hatredcopter ... and I sang it  that way, loudly, much to my boy's chagrin and the other boys delight. The night just got sillier from there.

FRIEND: "Your mom is so cool."

SON: *rolled eyes*

Oh, and NO sleep was gotten but MUCH Guitar Hero was played. I went downstairs to play Beautiful Katamari at about 5:45, hoping the soothing music would put them to sleep. They are snoring away now.

Several members of my family are in town this weekend. This is just what I didn't want.

I know. They are my family. But, you know what??  From the time I moved down here and was left stranded with the x and two babies (and through all the turmoil that ensued), my family was my babies. No one knew what I was going through, and it seemed like no one cared.

Well, my mother knew but she didn't tell anyone ... God forbid anyone know that things aren't perfect. My family is a family of secrets. When we are doing well, she brags about how great her kids are. When we are struggling, she avoids bringing us up. So when I was alone in a cold house with no heat and barely any food while the x was  out on the road sleeping his way across the country, she didn't let anyone know that I could use some help.  If she had,  maybe someone in the family would have told me that he was not worth staying married to, since most everyone else in the family knew he was cheating but I didn't.

Things like that just aren't talked about.

So excuse me if I don't want to spend too much time with my family.  I would rather spend time with my best friend, who is there for me through thick and thin, and my kids. That is my family ...  the people that I draw close when I need to be held, the ones that stick with me through thick and thin.

I've been a Guitar Hero fan since I got it for my better half. I didn't think I could play it, being that I'm incompetent at most things that require more finesse than button mashing, but I have actually been able to enjoy myself. My secret ... don't push myself to the point of frustration, which means I'll 5 star all the songs on Medium, thank you, and be happy with that. Plus, it's a great family game that allows me to share some great songs with my kids.

We've played through GH, GHII and GH Encore: Rock the 80's and, though 80's was light on content, we have enjoyed them all. We have eagerly awaited GHIII and,since T was in town on release day, we stood in line at midnight to get his reserved copy for the 360. At the time, I didn't have the 360 and I was relegated to playing backup which, by the way, was fine for me. I like playing bass to his lead. Now, I knew that since Neversoft was involved there would be changes but I didn't know, really, what to expect.

What I saw disappointed and angered me. Not only do we have the addition of useless, clumsily animated 'Bow-chika-bow-wow girls' on stage gyrating out of time (it's RATM, for God's sake, ladies, at least pick the pace up!), but the female characters are not the strong rocker chicks that I used to be able to back.

Judy Nails, a former punk tomboy, is all about showing off the bouncy boob physics engine that is so popular nowadays. Casey Lynch, who T used to like to call Heroine Chic, is also glammed up, with straightened blond hair and sporting a girlie bustier ... what the ... didn't she used to be hardcore?  Also, can I just say ... Midori? I'm all about some diversity (thank you for bringing Xavier back) but ... MIDORI?? *sigh* 

What ever happened to the easy going non-sexism that launched the franchise into the stratosphere? Wasn't it perfect them Harmonix was focusing on the music and not just targeting 18-30 year old males but engaging a broader spectrum of audience? I thought Neversoft did a decent job with the Tony Hawk franchise but they seem to forget that there are girls, women, moms, grandmas out there that like to rock (and skateboard, for that matter).

I know, I know ... quit'cher bitchin' and just choose a different character. I do. I usually play as Xavier because he is the essence of cool for me. But what about my 14 year old daughter, who likes to play as a girl? Gone is her favorite punk, Judy Nails. She's stuck with Midori's puffs and backpack or Casey's new sell-out, sexier look. 

I've pretty much kept my mouth shut about this because every time I mention it, I get challenged and I begin to feel as though I'm being close-minded and maybe just a little old-fashioned. For the record, I know I'm not, but I hear so many excuses for and hardly any voices against that I start to think that it's just me. I feel better now, though. Jane over at Game Girl Advance has spoken out on 1UP Yours and written "My Guitar Heroes - and Heroines" and, while I don't agree with all of her guitar heroes, it's nice to see that I'm not totally alone in thinking this game has gone in the wrong direction when it comes to sexism in gaming.

Rock Band ... save us ... remind us that it's really all about the music.

Assemblies went well, except I forgot to plan what I was going to say. Reading the names isn't just reading the names but introducing myself and our school to new parents, as well as explaining just what I'm giving awards for. As I'm not big on public speaking, I felt petty overwhelmed facing that crowd, but we got through it.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. I was alone again and it turns out I'll be alone tomorrow and possibly next week. I don't see a solution, but that's not my job. My job is to serve our students and teachers and I'm doing that to the best of my ability.

Speaking of which, I cataloged another box of books today. I'm tired of waiting for it to get done, tired of tripping over boxes. Pretty tired of it all, really.

After school, we had people on campus to give us our flu shots. Once that was over, I went back to the media center and worked until about 6, when my kids made me drag my butt out of there.

On the way home, they reminded me we needed cat food and milk. We were listening to music and joking, actually having a really pleasant car ride, the first in a long time. When we got to to grocery store, we decided we would get some toppings and sauce for pizza, milk, cat food, salad ... something for dinner tonight and to get us to the weekend when I can actually go shopping. We get to the checkout line and the girl starts emptying the carriage while I get out my purse and open it to find ... no wallet.  I have a check book but the wallet, with my debit card and my license, are not there.

A nauseous feeling washes over me as I realize I have left it at school. I spend the next 10 minutes apologizing to the clerk, to my kids, to anyone that will listen. Flashback to 8 years ago and I'm getting us groceries on a credit card that was no good, run up by a loser (now)x that didn't care if we could pay our bills, as long as he ate well. When the clerk said the card was denied, I slunk out of the store with my tail between my legs, trying to explain to my 6 & 8 year old why we had to leave the groceries there.

While I am worlds away from that, the shame doesn't diminish with time. In one small mistake, I suddenly became the loser I've been trying so hard to prove I'm not.


 

I have just finished an extraordinary book and I had to share it with you. As a children's librarian, naturally, I am exposed to more childen's lit than anything else so I spend most o my time reading that. There is more to my attachment, however.

When I was a child, I was alone quite a bit. My brothers and my sister were much older than I was and they had their own, teenage lives to lead. They had friends houses to escape to when the fighting between our parents got too tumultuous. Indeed, it only seemed that on weekends, when my brothers and sister were off with their friends, that my parents would get into the worst of their rows, having come home more than a little tipsy from the bar or one of our neighbors houses.

My mother was always ready for an argument, sensitive and passionate, insecure and always jealous of the attention my handsome father would get.  My father, ever the narcissistic cruel jokester, would goad her on, detailing what this lady or that lady had whispered to him behind my mothers back, amused by her increasing rage. Eventually the slamming doors turned into broken glass and, mercifully, someone would call the police to calm them down.

I would lie in bed alone listening to the escalation, waiting for it to end, grateful for the intervention when it finally came and dreading the day it didn't. In those days, I had a hard time differentiating between shouts and laughter ... to me, the harsh volume of it all sounded threatening.  I would burrow under my covers, clutching the book I had fallen asleep with as protection, as if it were a doorway to another world that I could easily escape to, if only I wished hard enough.

While the storm calmed below, I was left awake. I would turn on the light on my nightstand, open my book, and begin reading. I had several books that I read and reread, touchstones that would ease my mind when I was distressed. The Hundred Dresses by Estes, Tico and the Golden Wings by Lionni, The Little Mermaid by Anderson and, my favorite of all, a collection of Fairy Tales by The Brothers Grimm. These stories told of a little one, a weak one, an outcast, an outsider, apart from their family, without friends, who imagines great things for themselves in the face of the ugliness of greed and sheer human stupidity.  Through all of these stories, a great love is what sustains them.  Their connection to the earth and their cunning and will to stay alive sets them even further apart from the flawed humans around them yet, they still give int he hopes that these humans will learn from their sacrifice.

To say that I identified with the heroes and heroines of these stories is a massive understatement.

As I grew, I never forgot these stories and, even now, as a teacher, I read them to my students, teaching them that fables and fairy tales have large life lessons for us all to learn. The question that I was always left with, however, is what becomes of the characters in those stories I loved. Do they live happily ever after? How could they, damaged as they were by the horrors they had seen as children. How on earth could Hansel and Gretel grow up to be well adjusted adults, marrying and having children, without being overprotective to the point of smothering, convinced that some nameless threat would come along to lure their children away and devour them?  How did Little Red Riding Hood not grow up to be paranoid, agoraphobic, paralyzed with fear, trapped by the certain knowledge that every creature she met from the moment she escaped the wolf on that she was being lied to and deceived?

Yet every story ends with "...and the evil was banished and they lived on happily ever after."  In my house, I had to believe that was true. I had to have hope to get out.

As I grew older, my need to believe that grew even more desperate, as my damaged childhood led me down a path of abuse and despair. My happily ever after had turned out to be yet another pipedream and I found myself alone in the wilderness, this time with two children to care for and protect. The stakes were higher, the reasons to fight more noble than just selfishness. I had a purpose and I began my long journey which would lead to my own happily ever after.

It's no wonder that when a book offers me the answers to the questions I was left with as a child, I would be drawn to it. Such was the case with Birdwing by Rafe Martin. I remember reading the story of the Six Swans and wondering what happened to the poor 6th son, the one that was never truly turned back to being himself. The description of Birdwing brought that story rushing back to me and immediately caught my imagination:

"Once upon a time,  a girl rescued her seven brothers from a spell that had turned them into swans.  But one boy,  Ardwin,  was left with the scar of the spell's last gasp: one arm remained a wing.  And while Ardwin yearned to find a place in his father's kingdom, the wing whispered to him of open sky and rushing wind.  Marked by difference,  Ardwin sets out to discover who he is:  bird or boy,  crippled or sound,  cursed or blessed.  But followed by the cold eye of a sorceress and with war rumbling at his kingdom's borders,  Ardwin's path may lead him not to enlightenment,  but into unimaginable danger."

I found this book to be a satisfying conclusion to the Six Swans.  The happily ever after aspects are neither trite not are the easily won. His battles are not only with the one that cursed him but the ones that try to love and heal him. Ardwin is an imperfect hero who, through intuition and sheer will, determines his own future. He takes full responsibility for every choice he makes along the way, even the ones that lead to disaster. When things do go terribly wrong (and they do several times), he is human enough to admit his mistakes and noble enough to try to make things right. There is nothing more satisfying than that.

Now if only someone would write conclusions to Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty that were more realistic, maybe I could begin to believe in happy endings again. Until then, I will continue to question conventions, challenge stereotypes and fight my own childhood dragons.




 

So we are driving home this afternoon and there was a commercial on the radio for a child support collection agency. When they mention that you qualify for their service if you are owed more than $5000 in back child support, I casually say that it's too bad the x only owes us $4000 or I could use that company. Ha ha!

My son, just as casually, says that his dad said he isn't going to pay any more than the court makes him, even if he gets the "new job making a lot of money"  (put in quotes because I am very doubtful that it even exists right now), because he wants to be sure that I don't spend all the child support money on myself.

Immediately, my hackles go up. I'm already in traffic at the end of an 11 hour day which included giving blood, choking down lunch in 5 minutes, teaching 4 classes and checking out close to 500 books. To spare you any more numerical details, I'll just say that the child support he does pay barely pays for groceries every month.  It's not like its enough for me to do anything else with it ... trust me, a trip to the Bahamas is right out. Besides, I'm too busy spending my own money on electricity, phone, DISH, mortgage, car payment, insurance (house, car, health, vision, dental, life AND disability), taxes, doctor bills, clothes, lunch money, school supplies, field trips as well as putting some away every month in a college savings fund. All of which benefits the kids, BTW.

Will I call him on this? Confront him for being so bitter and jealous of me that he has to try to cut me down? Prolly not. I would have to admit that the boy told me of their conversation and that would put the boy in an uncomfortable position. It would also tip the x off that I am getting 'reports' from the kids on what he says and how he acts, which could lead to him not being as open with details, cutting off my only source of intel on the enemy. Not smart.

What I will probably end up doing is taking him to court as soon as he gets that "better paying job", get the payments increased and if he needs proof of my monthly expenses, I have got everything down in black and white and I would be only too happy to cram it down his lying, slanderous throat.