I'm sort of known for being stupidly brutally honest, and the whole reason I started this blogging experience was to put my life (or portions of it) out there as a way possibly help others who may or may not be experiencing some of the same life adventures that I am. Either as a single parent, a mom, a triathlete, or just a woman...this blog is real, this blog is honest, and because of that I need to share something. I don't want to be putting this part of my life out there, this is my battle, my demons to fight, and I am fighting them in my own way, but to help others from following in my path or to help anyone who is on the same path, I'm putting it out there.
Most of the people in my life who know me the best know that I am on some level OCD, or at the least I have OCD tendencies. I tend to take things to extremes, and have a very addictive personality. I joke a lot about my unhealthy obsessions (Dave Grohl/Foo Fighters and Kid Rock) and share adventures from my more healthy addictions (triathlons, biking and running and stuff). My list of addictions is actually quite long.
One of my unhealthy obsessions (one I never talk about, but is something that I have battled for most of my life) is with my weight. First, I want to say that I'm not putting this out there because I want sympathy or pity or even advice. I don't. That's actually the last thing I want. I want to be treated the same as always...before you read this post. I simply feel like I need to put it out there so that if there is anyone else struggling with this same issue, then they will know that they are not alone, and that even the "healthiest" appearing people can still struggle with this issue too.
Like most women, my weight is like a roller coaster...it goes up and down based on the seasons, the time of the month and my emotions. Over the past year, I lost almost 30 pounds on the divorce diet, or something like that (between the divorce and the knee surgery...take your pick), and over the past few months I have noticed some of the roundness return to my already curvy body...I am not so much a fan of this!
It started very simply enough...I convinced myself that I was just too busy to eat much (and most of the time I really am), and coming out of knee surgery I knew I was going to have to make some serious adjustments to my life style if I was going to attempt to stay in shape. Plus, in all honestly, I really don't have much of an appetite most of the time. I tend to be a very picky eater, and prefer to eat fish, fresh fruits and veggies and pretty much anything considered "healthy" (healthy food = EXPENSIVE!!!...single mom on a budget = no more organic fruits and veggies in my world *sad face*), and will generally pass up anything that I consider unhealthy, or I will limit myself with portion control. (Enter the world of OCD.)
Right out of surgery, I became a Vegetarian (I needed a challenge to tackle to keep my OCD self happy and focused) , and my weight started dropping pretty dramatically (this is also around the time when I first discovered my ex husbands affair...appetite gone!). Once I started training and racing again, I began to introduce meat back into my world and began a more "normal" eating pattern, however I always had a pretty good idea in my head of how many calories I was taking in versus those that I was burning during workouts. Even the calories in Gu's, Shot Blocs, protien shakes and sports drinks were counted. I knew that I had to run at least an hour to earn one 100 calorie shot block or Gu packet. Food became my reward for a good workout.
It still is. Only now with the addition of another job, I don't have much time to workout like I would like so I haven't been allowing myself much of a reward. The less I workout, the less I allow myself to eat. Over the past few weeks my portions have gotten smaller and smaller, and my search for the right balance of protein and veggies in my life has all but stalled out. I seem to have become stuck.
I would not say I am anorexic (but the word has been thrown around in my presence...again, NOT a fan!), because I don't consider myself sick (I'm a distance runner and triathlete, so in my mind I am a healthy athlete...there is irony there because I know that food is fuel for my body, I just don't like fuel at the moment) and my body is still quite curvy (no bones sticking out here!), but I could definitely be on the verge of entering a world dark eating habits. I know this, I am aware of this, and I am trying to get better with it, only I'm not going to lie, there is a part of me that really has no desire to get better (the thought of food is seriously scary to me sometimes). I kind of like being 30 pounds lighter and for the first time in my life I'm considered a skinny girl. Seriously???...me???...skinny...who knew?!?! I sure as hell didn't, because I still look in the mirror naked and see all the flaws (ugh...my tree trunk runner's legs and I definitely have issues with one another!) and I would like to lose another 10 pounds by summer. (I said I would like to, not that I will. :))
I do know the risk I am taking, both by putting this information out there so honestly and by playing games with my nutrition. Both of my parents and my brother are diabetic, and I have struggled with my own blood sugar issues since college (yes, I was probably anorexic at some point during those years...and there were the diet pills I took in HS to get ready for prom, and kept taking because they took away my appetite and I liked not being hungry...more recently, it was the Weight Watchers diet that my ex was on that I piggy backed just for the hell of it). This is, and probably will be, a never ending battle for me, and at some point I feel like it will begin to affect me negatively, and I do kind of feel like I might finally be standing at that cross roads. The place where my health and my desires to be a skinny triathlete/runner/35 year old hot momma intersect, and so I guess we'll just have to see where this particular journey takes me, because as with everything I do, I'm going to remain wide open to whatever happens and comes my way along this path.
Showing posts with label Single Parent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Single Parent. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Friday, December 17, 2010
Letting Go of Negative Feelings
Ok, I'll admit it, I'm mad! I'm frustrated and just down right pissed off. I thought all my anger was directed at my ex and a situation, or a couple situations that occurred over the past few days, but the reality is that I'm actually more angry at myself than anyone else.
First, I'm mad for letting harsh words spoken by a person whose opinion doesn't deserve to be an issue in my life get to me...remember the quote by Dr. Seuss in one of my earlier entries, "those who matter don't mind and those who mind don't matter". Well, it's kind of like that, only yesterday I forgot for a brief second and let some harsh criticisms affect me personally. I wish I hadn't, I wish I had taken a moment to put things in perspective mentally before I let my emotions react. (Hey, divorced or not, when your former "best friend" and person whose opinion you valued and respected the most for almost 15 years says mean things to you and attacks your personality, it stings...each day it stings less, but it still stings just a little.)
Second, and more importantly, I'm furious because in a moment, when I received a call from the boy's principal telling me that he was in her office in tears because it was his classroom memory party and his parent representative didn't show up (are you phucking serious?!...crap!), I realized that my custody week or not, the ex and I are potentially failing miserably at this whole PT parenting thing. Whatever we are or aren't doing clearly isn't working. Remember when I said a few posts back that this PT single parent thing blows? That statement was firmly reinforced in that moment. BLAH!!! (Somedays I hate being right! :))
I can't even begin to describe the pain in my chest after receiving that call, or the warmth that filled me upon seeing his little face light up with a genuinely relieved smile when I arrived in his classroom. The two extremes in emotions within such a short time were almost too much to handle, and as I sat there surrounded by other parents and kids and grandparents, my eyes began to leak just a little. (Thank god/Buddha/whoever for winter in Iowa and soft fuzzy mittens to help wipe away tears inconspicuously...plus I can blame the watery eyes on the harsh winter wind chill...WIN!) I vowed to myself that we will figure this thing out, and we will not let our child down again. Only I realized after another long, harsh and unproductive conversation with my ex, that this is probably an unrealistic wish on my part. Yet, it's the one thing I would give up everything in my life for.
So here I am, mad, angry, disappointed, pissed off and furious all over again...and I know now that it's time to let it all go! All these emotions I am feeling are not helping the situation at hand (and they actually feel pretty selfish because they are distracting me from the real issue), which is really how can I do better as a PT single parent? How can I ALWAYS be there for my boy 50% of the physical time? And, how can I work most productively with my ex to effectively coparent from two very (VERY!) different but unconditionally loving home environments?
Days like this, remind me that this PT single parenting thing doesn't just blow, sometimes it even sucks royal donkey ass!! Again, not gonna lie...it does! However, getting angry and staying angry about it will do nothing to make it suck even less. It is what it is, and angry is just a silly feeling, it doesn't offer any solutions (at least none that are fair) and I do think that it distracts us from recognizing and dealing with the real issue(s), therefore I'm beginning to see that there is no added value to getting angry in the first place. EVER! It's just not necessary. So, I'm letting it all go...all this anger and the negative feelings that have built up inside me over the past 48 hours...like the lightest of snowflakes that have gathered in my hands only to blow away with the first gentle breeze. (I love that feeling!...when the snow is so light and airy that it refuses to stay in one place or be crushed into a hard snowball meant to be thrown at someone, instead it simply falls through the fingers and travels with the wind...it's maybe the only part of snow that I like, but I do like it, it makes me smile. Yeah, yeah...there's probably a lesson in there somewhere too, I'm sure of it. :))
Final Thought: The moment I made a conscious decision in my head to let go of the anger and negative feelings that have carried me around like a giant green monster living in a garbage can on Sesame Street, something wonderful happened...my lungs opened up, my shoulders relaxed and the lump in my chest (the one that I was surely subconsciously inflicting on myself as punishment for feeling like a failure at this PT parenting gig) disappeared. They all just went away, like the snowflakes that I love so much. My anger and negative feelings hitched a ride on breeze and disappeared into winter wind. (Maybe winter around here isn't so bad, but then again, I am sitting in front of a space heater at the moment listening to Jimmy Buffet and daydreaming of warm air on my skin and sandy beaches...yep, winter in Iowa still sucks...and that is NOT a negative feeling, just a fact! :))
First, I'm mad for letting harsh words spoken by a person whose opinion doesn't deserve to be an issue in my life get to me...remember the quote by Dr. Seuss in one of my earlier entries, "those who matter don't mind and those who mind don't matter". Well, it's kind of like that, only yesterday I forgot for a brief second and let some harsh criticisms affect me personally. I wish I hadn't, I wish I had taken a moment to put things in perspective mentally before I let my emotions react. (Hey, divorced or not, when your former "best friend" and person whose opinion you valued and respected the most for almost 15 years says mean things to you and attacks your personality, it stings...each day it stings less, but it still stings just a little.)
Second, and more importantly, I'm furious because in a moment, when I received a call from the boy's principal telling me that he was in her office in tears because it was his classroom memory party and his parent representative didn't show up (are you phucking serious?!...crap!), I realized that my custody week or not, the ex and I are potentially failing miserably at this whole PT parenting thing. Whatever we are or aren't doing clearly isn't working. Remember when I said a few posts back that this PT single parent thing blows? That statement was firmly reinforced in that moment. BLAH!!! (Somedays I hate being right! :))
I can't even begin to describe the pain in my chest after receiving that call, or the warmth that filled me upon seeing his little face light up with a genuinely relieved smile when I arrived in his classroom. The two extremes in emotions within such a short time were almost too much to handle, and as I sat there surrounded by other parents and kids and grandparents, my eyes began to leak just a little. (Thank god/Buddha/whoever for winter in Iowa and soft fuzzy mittens to help wipe away tears inconspicuously...plus I can blame the watery eyes on the harsh winter wind chill...WIN!) I vowed to myself that we will figure this thing out, and we will not let our child down again. Only I realized after another long, harsh and unproductive conversation with my ex, that this is probably an unrealistic wish on my part. Yet, it's the one thing I would give up everything in my life for.
So here I am, mad, angry, disappointed, pissed off and furious all over again...and I know now that it's time to let it all go! All these emotions I am feeling are not helping the situation at hand (and they actually feel pretty selfish because they are distracting me from the real issue), which is really how can I do better as a PT single parent? How can I ALWAYS be there for my boy 50% of the physical time? And, how can I work most productively with my ex to effectively coparent from two very (VERY!) different but unconditionally loving home environments?
Days like this, remind me that this PT single parenting thing doesn't just blow, sometimes it even sucks royal donkey ass!! Again, not gonna lie...it does! However, getting angry and staying angry about it will do nothing to make it suck even less. It is what it is, and angry is just a silly feeling, it doesn't offer any solutions (at least none that are fair) and I do think that it distracts us from recognizing and dealing with the real issue(s), therefore I'm beginning to see that there is no added value to getting angry in the first place. EVER! It's just not necessary. So, I'm letting it all go...all this anger and the negative feelings that have built up inside me over the past 48 hours...like the lightest of snowflakes that have gathered in my hands only to blow away with the first gentle breeze. (I love that feeling!...when the snow is so light and airy that it refuses to stay in one place or be crushed into a hard snowball meant to be thrown at someone, instead it simply falls through the fingers and travels with the wind...it's maybe the only part of snow that I like, but I do like it, it makes me smile. Yeah, yeah...there's probably a lesson in there somewhere too, I'm sure of it. :))
"Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned". ~Buddha
Final Thought: The moment I made a conscious decision in my head to let go of the anger and negative feelings that have carried me around like a giant green monster living in a garbage can on Sesame Street, something wonderful happened...my lungs opened up, my shoulders relaxed and the lump in my chest (the one that I was surely subconsciously inflicting on myself as punishment for feeling like a failure at this PT parenting gig) disappeared. They all just went away, like the snowflakes that I love so much. My anger and negative feelings hitched a ride on breeze and disappeared into winter wind. (Maybe winter around here isn't so bad, but then again, I am sitting in front of a space heater at the moment listening to Jimmy Buffet and daydreaming of warm air on my skin and sandy beaches...yep, winter in Iowa still sucks...and that is NOT a negative feeling, just a fact! :))
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Sign language..."you're #1", or not!
Sitting at my desk yesterday, getting a lot of work accomplished for a Wednesday, and I see the dreaded email appear in my inbox. The principal at my son's elementary school just wanted to let me know that JP had been using a sort of sign language in the lunchroom that they consider inappropriate. He was apparently trying to tell his friends that they are #1 in his book, only he was using the wrong finger. That's right, the kid gave the entire elementary lunch room, including a few of his "favorite" (or not) teachers the bird!! WTH!!! (However, when asked what it meant, he could not tell them...he had no idea what he was doing other than waving around a finger for all to see.)
Several different trains of though suddenly enter my brain. 1) Oh shit, how am I going to address this one. 2) Where the phuck did he learn about the middle finger. 3) Mother F-er, I've now got to forward this information on to my ex husband...get ready for WW6. 4) Laughter!...I mean come on, it's a 7+ year old giving the middle finger, at least we've graduated from poop humor. 5) I totally remember the day I discovered the middle finger in elementary school...we thought it was so cool, hard to believe my little boy is growing up so fast. 6) At least he seems to have no idea what it means. 7) see number 1.
I know, I know...I'm about as potty mouthed as they come, so he must have picked it up at home, right?! I actually disagree. The irony here is that for as much as I let my sailor mouth fly on here, I turn my filter on high alert whenever my boy is arround. And when it comes to the bird, I actually find it pretty generic and unimaginative myself, I prefer to go with the Friends backwards double fist bump...much more creative in my opinion. (If you don't know what Friends is, then you're too young to be reading this blog.) Plus, I'm a single girl so meeting people by giving the bird...not the best impression I want to make. You never really know who is in that car that just cut you off now do you?!?! Nope...you just never know, it could be a great friend who you just haven't had the opportunity to meet yet (even if they are texting and driving while trying not to spill their morning Starbucks...mmmm, Starbucks!...here's a tip for anyone interested, I loves me some Starbucks, just sayin' :)).
So, how does a PT single mom handle this one?!?! Crap! I have no idea...I'm learning this shit on the fly half the time. Parenting in my experience so far is pretty much a trial by fire adventure. I mean I'm a PT single mom to a 7+ year old boy. I've heard everyone say "boys will be boys", but I've never been a boy so I can't fully relate.
In the end I've decided to not make a big deal out of it. (You can disagree with me all you want, but this is how I've chosen to handle it.) One look at his face and the tears that welled up in his eyes when I asked simply "so how was lunch today" and I knew he got it. In the car on the way home from school we talked about how it is one of the meanest things you can say to someone in sign language and what it means when we hurt other peoples feelings. Then, by the time we got home six blocks later, the discussion was over and we were moving on to what's for dinner. I'm hoping that by not making a big deal out of this time around, it will become less of a temptation because it won't be seen as "forbidden", just really really mean, and JP hates when people are mean or unfair (the ADHD in him makes him obsessed with being fair and following the rules).
I hope I've done the right thing here, but I really don't know. Only time will tell. Luckily, the more we stumble along this PT single parent path together the more we learn about each other, and the better equipped I become to handle these situations as they come up. I may not be the perfect mom all the time, but I'm learning that that's ok. Perfect moms are boring, and I am anything but.
Several different trains of though suddenly enter my brain. 1) Oh shit, how am I going to address this one. 2) Where the phuck did he learn about the middle finger. 3) Mother F-er, I've now got to forward this information on to my ex husband...get ready for WW6. 4) Laughter!...I mean come on, it's a 7+ year old giving the middle finger, at least we've graduated from poop humor. 5) I totally remember the day I discovered the middle finger in elementary school...we thought it was so cool, hard to believe my little boy is growing up so fast. 6) At least he seems to have no idea what it means. 7) see number 1.
I know, I know...I'm about as potty mouthed as they come, so he must have picked it up at home, right?! I actually disagree. The irony here is that for as much as I let my sailor mouth fly on here, I turn my filter on high alert whenever my boy is arround. And when it comes to the bird, I actually find it pretty generic and unimaginative myself, I prefer to go with the Friends backwards double fist bump...much more creative in my opinion. (If you don't know what Friends is, then you're too young to be reading this blog.) Plus, I'm a single girl so meeting people by giving the bird...not the best impression I want to make. You never really know who is in that car that just cut you off now do you?!?! Nope...you just never know, it could be a great friend who you just haven't had the opportunity to meet yet (even if they are texting and driving while trying not to spill their morning Starbucks...mmmm, Starbucks!...here's a tip for anyone interested, I loves me some Starbucks, just sayin' :)).
So, how does a PT single mom handle this one?!?! Crap! I have no idea...I'm learning this shit on the fly half the time. Parenting in my experience so far is pretty much a trial by fire adventure. I mean I'm a PT single mom to a 7+ year old boy. I've heard everyone say "boys will be boys", but I've never been a boy so I can't fully relate.
In the end I've decided to not make a big deal out of it. (You can disagree with me all you want, but this is how I've chosen to handle it.) One look at his face and the tears that welled up in his eyes when I asked simply "so how was lunch today" and I knew he got it. In the car on the way home from school we talked about how it is one of the meanest things you can say to someone in sign language and what it means when we hurt other peoples feelings. Then, by the time we got home six blocks later, the discussion was over and we were moving on to what's for dinner. I'm hoping that by not making a big deal out of this time around, it will become less of a temptation because it won't be seen as "forbidden", just really really mean, and JP hates when people are mean or unfair (the ADHD in him makes him obsessed with being fair and following the rules).
I hope I've done the right thing here, but I really don't know. Only time will tell. Luckily, the more we stumble along this PT single parent path together the more we learn about each other, and the better equipped I become to handle these situations as they come up. I may not be the perfect mom all the time, but I'm learning that that's ok. Perfect moms are boring, and I am anything but.
Monday, December 6, 2010
More thoughts on PT parenting
Ok, I'm not going to lie, this totally blows! This whole PT single parent thing...sucks royal donkey ass. I'm sorry, but sometimes I just have to be real here, and this is as real as it gets.
Now, I realize that most courts consider a 50-50 shared custody arrangement the most fair thing for the adults involved in this situation, but I have to wonder if it's really fair for the children involved. Being shuffled every single week between two houses, two parents, two sets of rules, two of everything...has to be overwhelming. Hell, I'm overwhelmed most weeks by the entire situation and I'm an adult, I can't imagine being a 7+ year old trying to make all the pieces fit together like a 5000 piece 3D puzzle. You know, the ones with a hidden picture inside a picture...yeah, I'm thinking it's kind of like that.
Last night the turmoil that flashed across my son's face as he came running into the house demanding nothing but to be held spoke volumes. One look was all it took, my heart instantly broke into a million little shards of glass, the wind was knocked out of me and I couldn't breathe. I had effectively been sucker punched. No amount of boxing or Tae Kwan Do training could have prepared me for this little uppercut that my boy just delivered. It's like day one of this PT parenting nightmare all over again. Crap!!!
Then, when reading one of my favorite blogs last night in a hunt for answers and peace, I stumbled upon this quote...“Don’t let today’s disappointment cast a shadow on tomorrow’s dream.” -Unknown. Perfect, this sounds good, this could totally work, now how does one do this? Why do these fantastic quotes never come with directions? They would be much more effective in my opinion, if they came with directions on how to apply them. For example, Step 1) identify the disappointment(s), Step 2) claim tomorrow's dream...just a suggestion. Sounds simple enough...
Step 1)...Identify the disappointments. Well, for starters, I'm disappointed that I don't have the answers to erase the pain and turmoil that I saw on young and conflicted face. I'm disappointed that with that one look, a years worth of hard work disappeared. And, I'm disappointed because suddenly, all the pain and confusion of this past year has returned and knocked us both on our asses. Once again I feel like I'm left standing on one leg hopping down a poison ivy infested path in the darkest forest I've ever seen.
Ok, phuck disappointed...I'm pissed off!! I want to blame someone, I want to scream, and I really want to punch something. (Time to call my good friend Kathy for a boxing session me thinks :)). Only, in this instance, there is no one to blame or scream at or punch...it is what it is and I can be disappointed and pissed off all I want, but it's not going to help or change things. The only thing that will help is by focusing my energies on Step 2 (and maybe one really good session with the bag...I'll call Kathy this week!).
Step 2)...Claim tomorrow's dream. Ok, that's easy, I'm determined to return peace and stability to my son's world...to see the calm happy genuine smile return to my boys face, and to hear him sing the Chipmunks Christmas at the top of his lungs or dance around to Pink's Funhouse without a care in the world. I dream of secretly watching him from the doorway of his room, playing contently with his Lego's while Sponge Bob sings "Don't be a Jerk" in the background. This is the dream I am claiming for tomorrow (and today...and forever!).
Yep, this PT parenting gig totally blows some days (pretty much all the time!)...it's a big giant pile of horse shit that it feels like we are living in and trying to dig ourselves out of every other week. And just about the time we get all the poo cleared, a semi load of new shit is delivered and dumped on our heads. But, I'm not going to let this stupid forest of poo and dung cast a shadow on my dream. We'll be ok...we have to be, I'm not giving us another option. My son will smile again, preferably without the worry lines creasing his forehead, and I will move heaven and earth (and a million tons of shit) to make it happen if I have to.
Now, I realize that most courts consider a 50-50 shared custody arrangement the most fair thing for the adults involved in this situation, but I have to wonder if it's really fair for the children involved. Being shuffled every single week between two houses, two parents, two sets of rules, two of everything...has to be overwhelming. Hell, I'm overwhelmed most weeks by the entire situation and I'm an adult, I can't imagine being a 7+ year old trying to make all the pieces fit together like a 5000 piece 3D puzzle. You know, the ones with a hidden picture inside a picture...yeah, I'm thinking it's kind of like that.
Last night the turmoil that flashed across my son's face as he came running into the house demanding nothing but to be held spoke volumes. One look was all it took, my heart instantly broke into a million little shards of glass, the wind was knocked out of me and I couldn't breathe. I had effectively been sucker punched. No amount of boxing or Tae Kwan Do training could have prepared me for this little uppercut that my boy just delivered. It's like day one of this PT parenting nightmare all over again. Crap!!!
Then, when reading one of my favorite blogs last night in a hunt for answers and peace, I stumbled upon this quote...“Don’t let today’s disappointment cast a shadow on tomorrow’s dream.” -Unknown. Perfect, this sounds good, this could totally work, now how does one do this? Why do these fantastic quotes never come with directions? They would be much more effective in my opinion, if they came with directions on how to apply them. For example, Step 1) identify the disappointment(s), Step 2) claim tomorrow's dream...just a suggestion. Sounds simple enough...
Step 1)...Identify the disappointments. Well, for starters, I'm disappointed that I don't have the answers to erase the pain and turmoil that I saw on young and conflicted face. I'm disappointed that with that one look, a years worth of hard work disappeared. And, I'm disappointed because suddenly, all the pain and confusion of this past year has returned and knocked us both on our asses. Once again I feel like I'm left standing on one leg hopping down a poison ivy infested path in the darkest forest I've ever seen.
Ok, phuck disappointed...I'm pissed off!! I want to blame someone, I want to scream, and I really want to punch something. (Time to call my good friend Kathy for a boxing session me thinks :)). Only, in this instance, there is no one to blame or scream at or punch...it is what it is and I can be disappointed and pissed off all I want, but it's not going to help or change things. The only thing that will help is by focusing my energies on Step 2 (and maybe one really good session with the bag...I'll call Kathy this week!).
Step 2)...Claim tomorrow's dream. Ok, that's easy, I'm determined to return peace and stability to my son's world...to see the calm happy genuine smile return to my boys face, and to hear him sing the Chipmunks Christmas at the top of his lungs or dance around to Pink's Funhouse without a care in the world. I dream of secretly watching him from the doorway of his room, playing contently with his Lego's while Sponge Bob sings "Don't be a Jerk" in the background. This is the dream I am claiming for tomorrow (and today...and forever!).
Yep, this PT parenting gig totally blows some days (pretty much all the time!)...it's a big giant pile of horse shit that it feels like we are living in and trying to dig ourselves out of every other week. And just about the time we get all the poo cleared, a semi load of new shit is delivered and dumped on our heads. But, I'm not going to let this stupid forest of poo and dung cast a shadow on my dream. We'll be ok...we have to be, I'm not giving us another option. My son will smile again, preferably without the worry lines creasing his forehead, and I will move heaven and earth (and a million tons of shit) to make it happen if I have to.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Welcome Home
Ugh! For the most part I hate moving, the physical aspect of it at least and it can be pretty mentally exhausting as well, but this move was a good move. I was ready to leave the life of home ownership behind me and start fresh. This new home I've chosen is my own first real place when I think about it. Before I've always chosen where to live with the help of roommates or a significant other, this time however, the choice was all mine. I fell in love with the place the first time I walked through it. So many windows, and hardwood floors, and space. I love everything about this new environment and everything it represents...it feels like home. And, it's all mine, my responsibility, my new home, a place where I can create a warm, loving and safe environment for myself and my son.
On moving day I was full of hope and possibilities. I had amazing friends (like really AMAZING!!!, I couldn't have done it without their muscle, brains and humor) come help me move and they worked like a well oiled machine to get it done quickly, efficiently and everything arrived in one piece (with the exception of one margarita glass that I broke unwrapping from the newspaper...oh well, I've always liked margaritas better from a mug anyway :)).
On a side note: we will definitely be discussing adding "professional movers" to the list of things Team Vardo is capable of at our next Team Vardo executive committee meeting. Just kidding...maybe! (Team Vardo is by the way my local running club, full of such a diverse group of friends that I can't even begin to describe what they mean to me without tearing up. Yes, I know there's no crying in running, only sometimes with friends this good, there is. And, we have no executive committee. Just one amazing George, a fearless leader in the Vardo and a bunch of really ambitious runners who like beer.)
Moving day was feeling very successful! I was in the house by 12:30 and feeding everyone beer and Sloppy Joe's by 1. By the time evening rolled around and my kiddo was tucked snug as a bug in his new bed, I was thrilled with how the day turned out and happy to be quietly reflecting on my cool friends and my new bar space over a nice glass of wine...that's right mamma's got a bar in this new house!!! Hell yes!!! (Editors note: super mad props go out to my friend Ali and her son T who not only helped me pack and move and set up my boys room, but did all this without batting an eye on her birthday none the less!!! Happy Birthday Ali!!!! You are an inspiration!)
Now, most people I know throw a house warming party to christen their new homes, I myself as a single mom, planned to do that (gotta break in the bar!) but in the end left the christening up to my son. It's a little unorthodox, but I knew I was at home that first night in our new place when as I am frantically unpacking boxes in the kitchen at 12:30 am, I hear commotion and screaming from upstairs. Me, thinking that my son is having a nightmare and has woken up in this wonderfully new but still unfamiliar space and has no idea where he is, races up to the top of the stairs to find...PUKE! Everywhere!
There he is my sweet but obviously sugar overloaded boy, trapped in his room, his hands being too preoccupied covering his mouth to be able to open the door, looking like a green deer in headlights. One look at his face and all I can say is RUN! Run to the bathroom please get there and please please please hit the toilet. No such luck, that door opened and he was like a bull being let out of the gate at the rodeo...he exploded! All over himself, me, the hall, the walls, the new rugs, the landlords precious hardwood floors that I promised to protect with my life, stopping long enough at the sink to relieve some of the pressure before moving onto finally the toilet. My poor, sweet, smelly boy (insert gag reflex here). Who knew an underweight 7 year old could hold so much liquid?!
When the initial drama, and his stomach, settled, we stripped his bed, and decide that he will be camping out in a sleeping bag on the floor of his new room for the rest of the night (the laundry detergent being packed away in one of the hundred unpacked boxes still in the basement). I try to turn it into an adventure for him, and he graciously plays along. I figure it's because he's too tired and overwhelmed to even battle me in the moment in the middle of the night, but then as he's climbing into his sleeping bag he turns and gives me the biggest hug ever and says "I love you momma...I'm sorry for throwing up everywhere". God, I love that kid!!!! Here he is feeling like ass and he is giving me a little something wonderful to hold onto in moment when he knew I was stressed and needed it the most. No battle ever intended, just pure love.
A few minutes later after he is back asleep and I am scrubbing the walls, floors, sink, toilet and rugs of my new box filled space all I can think of is Ty Pennington's voice saying "Welcome Home Family, Welcome Home". Ty, I couldn't agree more!
On moving day I was full of hope and possibilities. I had amazing friends (like really AMAZING!!!, I couldn't have done it without their muscle, brains and humor) come help me move and they worked like a well oiled machine to get it done quickly, efficiently and everything arrived in one piece (with the exception of one margarita glass that I broke unwrapping from the newspaper...oh well, I've always liked margaritas better from a mug anyway :)).
On a side note: we will definitely be discussing adding "professional movers" to the list of things Team Vardo is capable of at our next Team Vardo executive committee meeting. Just kidding...maybe! (Team Vardo is by the way my local running club, full of such a diverse group of friends that I can't even begin to describe what they mean to me without tearing up. Yes, I know there's no crying in running, only sometimes with friends this good, there is. And, we have no executive committee. Just one amazing George, a fearless leader in the Vardo and a bunch of really ambitious runners who like beer.)
Moving day was feeling very successful! I was in the house by 12:30 and feeding everyone beer and Sloppy Joe's by 1. By the time evening rolled around and my kiddo was tucked snug as a bug in his new bed, I was thrilled with how the day turned out and happy to be quietly reflecting on my cool friends and my new bar space over a nice glass of wine...that's right mamma's got a bar in this new house!!! Hell yes!!! (Editors note: super mad props go out to my friend Ali and her son T who not only helped me pack and move and set up my boys room, but did all this without batting an eye on her birthday none the less!!! Happy Birthday Ali!!!! You are an inspiration!)
Now, most people I know throw a house warming party to christen their new homes, I myself as a single mom, planned to do that (gotta break in the bar!) but in the end left the christening up to my son. It's a little unorthodox, but I knew I was at home that first night in our new place when as I am frantically unpacking boxes in the kitchen at 12:30 am, I hear commotion and screaming from upstairs. Me, thinking that my son is having a nightmare and has woken up in this wonderfully new but still unfamiliar space and has no idea where he is, races up to the top of the stairs to find...PUKE! Everywhere!
There he is my sweet but obviously sugar overloaded boy, trapped in his room, his hands being too preoccupied covering his mouth to be able to open the door, looking like a green deer in headlights. One look at his face and all I can say is RUN! Run to the bathroom please get there and please please please hit the toilet. No such luck, that door opened and he was like a bull being let out of the gate at the rodeo...he exploded! All over himself, me, the hall, the walls, the new rugs, the landlords precious hardwood floors that I promised to protect with my life, stopping long enough at the sink to relieve some of the pressure before moving onto finally the toilet. My poor, sweet, smelly boy (insert gag reflex here). Who knew an underweight 7 year old could hold so much liquid?!
When the initial drama, and his stomach, settled, we stripped his bed, and decide that he will be camping out in a sleeping bag on the floor of his new room for the rest of the night (the laundry detergent being packed away in one of the hundred unpacked boxes still in the basement). I try to turn it into an adventure for him, and he graciously plays along. I figure it's because he's too tired and overwhelmed to even battle me in the moment in the middle of the night, but then as he's climbing into his sleeping bag he turns and gives me the biggest hug ever and says "I love you momma...I'm sorry for throwing up everywhere". God, I love that kid!!!! Here he is feeling like ass and he is giving me a little something wonderful to hold onto in moment when he knew I was stressed and needed it the most. No battle ever intended, just pure love.
A few minutes later after he is back asleep and I am scrubbing the walls, floors, sink, toilet and rugs of my new box filled space all I can think of is Ty Pennington's voice saying "Welcome Home Family, Welcome Home". Ty, I couldn't agree more!
Thursday, November 4, 2010
On Being a Part Time Single Parent
I've contemplated starting a blog for a long time, or at least ever since my path took a dramatic turn off course and crashed head first into a big bunch of untamed brush, trees and possibly poison ivy. Now it seems ever more relevant as I begin to navigate this world as a newly minted Part Time Single Parent. First, I should probably clarify what I mean by a Part Time (PT) Single Parent, since I will probably use this term a lot. To me, this means that the ex and myself share joint (50-50) custody on a week by week basis. We switch parenting roles every Sunday evening.
Nothing can really prepare one for this. None of us parents, I believe, enter into parenthood with the idea that we are only going see or spend time with our children 50% of the time. I'm never going to be half a parent, I'm always going to give 110% of myself to this beautiful young being. I'm going to be there no matter what for absolutely everything they need. The thought never even crosses our mind that things could end up completely different, and why would it. We bring these babies home from the hospital and our world suddenly feels complete. Sometimes though, life has other plans for our bigger picture, and we have to try to embrace this change to the best of our abilities (for me it's with a lot of humor and a dash or two of sarcasm...possibly followed by a glass of wine or pint of beer :)). These days I still give 110% of myself to my child and I will always be there for him, even when we're not together.
The first real night away was the worst, perhaps it's because I suddenly realized that this is so much different than those times spent at sleepovers with Grandpa and Grandma, this time I recognized that this was going to be a permanent ongoing arrangement...not unlike the first night home from the hospital, I was left wondering "now what". What am I supposed to do now and why can't I breathe? See, unlike the first day and night I brought my tiny little bundle of joy home from the hospital, when it seems that the world holds nothing but possibilities, this night is more like a living breathing nightmare (at least something in the house is breathing, because I'm suddenly not able to). It feels like a slow torturous death. Like someone has removed an arm, two legs, a lung, and half my heart (along with half my brain and sanity) and said to me "there, now go about your normal life...live well, be productive and be happy." Are you (insert swear word(s) of choice here) serious?!
That first night was a shocking night to say the least. I wandered around the quiet empty house for hours, just trying to catch my breath. I couldn't bear to even look into his room for fear of a complete breakdown, so I turned off the light and shut the door, trying to close out the pain in the process. I think at one point I even went for a drive, just to break free of the walls that were suddenly closing in around me. I needed fresh air and I needed it bad! I needed to breathe! I don't know how long I stayed in this zombie like comatose state, just wandering around until I somehow found myself in bed with the lights on (this also being the first night I ever spent completely alone in my own house) at 2am too wired to sleep but too exhausted from crying to stay awake any longer. It was the longest night of my entire life. Then, something incredible happened, I woke up in the morning and realized that I made it through the night (the half bottle of wine probably helped) and found that amazingly one of my legs had returned making facing the day and hopping along this new poison ivy infested path that much easier. Each day I spend along this path things are getting a little easier to manage, the road gets a little wider and slowly my body parts are returning. The ache in my heart lives on though, it's the one part that I fear I've lost forever.
So now what? I hate this question, yet I ask it of myself all the time. I'm such an active person that I feel like I always have to have a plan in place and I'm always trying to think 3 steps ahead of wherever I am. This time though there is no plan to follow, and I don't really know where I'm going all the time. It's scary to say the least, but I intend to make the most of it. It's an adventure, and I love (LOVE) adventures! I'm slowly learning to embrace the randomness that my new path has to offer me, and to find joy and light in the little victories. That first night away from my child in my crazy comatose state I made a decision, more of a promise to myself really, that I was going to use these times away from my boy to focus on myself. It sounds selfish, I know (it feels selfish sometimes too), but I mean really focus on myself...like dig deep and see what's lurking below the surface scary kind of focus. It's a frightening place to go sometimes when we seek out what lurks below our own surface. I'm certainly no angel with my own bit of dark secrets to dissect and uncover, but I'm learning to use this newly part time quiet house to reflect on these things and decide what I really want in life and where I want my new path to take us. With a lifetime supply of Calamine lotion and my boy at my side, I should be set to take on the world, or at least this heavily wooded forest of chaos that I find myself in.
Nothing can really prepare one for this. None of us parents, I believe, enter into parenthood with the idea that we are only going see or spend time with our children 50% of the time. I'm never going to be half a parent, I'm always going to give 110% of myself to this beautiful young being. I'm going to be there no matter what for absolutely everything they need. The thought never even crosses our mind that things could end up completely different, and why would it. We bring these babies home from the hospital and our world suddenly feels complete. Sometimes though, life has other plans for our bigger picture, and we have to try to embrace this change to the best of our abilities (for me it's with a lot of humor and a dash or two of sarcasm...possibly followed by a glass of wine or pint of beer :)). These days I still give 110% of myself to my child and I will always be there for him, even when we're not together.
The first real night away was the worst, perhaps it's because I suddenly realized that this is so much different than those times spent at sleepovers with Grandpa and Grandma, this time I recognized that this was going to be a permanent ongoing arrangement...not unlike the first night home from the hospital, I was left wondering "now what". What am I supposed to do now and why can't I breathe? See, unlike the first day and night I brought my tiny little bundle of joy home from the hospital, when it seems that the world holds nothing but possibilities, this night is more like a living breathing nightmare (at least something in the house is breathing, because I'm suddenly not able to). It feels like a slow torturous death. Like someone has removed an arm, two legs, a lung, and half my heart (along with half my brain and sanity) and said to me "there, now go about your normal life...live well, be productive and be happy." Are you (insert swear word(s) of choice here) serious?!
That first night was a shocking night to say the least. I wandered around the quiet empty house for hours, just trying to catch my breath. I couldn't bear to even look into his room for fear of a complete breakdown, so I turned off the light and shut the door, trying to close out the pain in the process. I think at one point I even went for a drive, just to break free of the walls that were suddenly closing in around me. I needed fresh air and I needed it bad! I needed to breathe! I don't know how long I stayed in this zombie like comatose state, just wandering around until I somehow found myself in bed with the lights on (this also being the first night I ever spent completely alone in my own house) at 2am too wired to sleep but too exhausted from crying to stay awake any longer. It was the longest night of my entire life. Then, something incredible happened, I woke up in the morning and realized that I made it through the night (the half bottle of wine probably helped) and found that amazingly one of my legs had returned making facing the day and hopping along this new poison ivy infested path that much easier. Each day I spend along this path things are getting a little easier to manage, the road gets a little wider and slowly my body parts are returning. The ache in my heart lives on though, it's the one part that I fear I've lost forever.
So now what? I hate this question, yet I ask it of myself all the time. I'm such an active person that I feel like I always have to have a plan in place and I'm always trying to think 3 steps ahead of wherever I am. This time though there is no plan to follow, and I don't really know where I'm going all the time. It's scary to say the least, but I intend to make the most of it. It's an adventure, and I love (LOVE) adventures! I'm slowly learning to embrace the randomness that my new path has to offer me, and to find joy and light in the little victories. That first night away from my child in my crazy comatose state I made a decision, more of a promise to myself really, that I was going to use these times away from my boy to focus on myself. It sounds selfish, I know (it feels selfish sometimes too), but I mean really focus on myself...like dig deep and see what's lurking below the surface scary kind of focus. It's a frightening place to go sometimes when we seek out what lurks below our own surface. I'm certainly no angel with my own bit of dark secrets to dissect and uncover, but I'm learning to use this newly part time quiet house to reflect on these things and decide what I really want in life and where I want my new path to take us. With a lifetime supply of Calamine lotion and my boy at my side, I should be set to take on the world, or at least this heavily wooded forest of chaos that I find myself in.
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