Tuesday, July 1, 2014

I Have No Life

Still trying to find my way back here. Blogging is somewhat very self-aggrandizing and I'm not feeling too rah rah yet. And divorce is like the death of blogging.

Joe took the twins to their see their grandparents at the farm this week. They were over the moon excited to go. My mother in law bought the twins air mattresses to replace the cribs she had for them and when I talked to the kids this morning Reese went on an on about her new bedroom. She's such a funny kid. Air mattresses are the coolest thing to ever happen to her, apparently.

I got these pictures today, and word that Ryan asked for lunch and ate a whole grilled cheese sandwich, two slices of cheese, half a box of graham bunnies, a bunch of grapes and two cookies. All things that may seem normal for a growing boy, but it's not normal for my boy. Hearing about his eating adventure warmed my heart. I know it means he was engaged today, regulated, and that he's relaxed enough to eat. I know it means he's happy.



God I miss them. This is our fourth time apart. Ever. It's weird for them to be doing things without me. So weird.

Lola stayed home with me because she is still not really walking (getting there though!) and she's still the baby, for all intents and purposes. And when the kids are at the farm they ride horses and tractors and do all sorts of "big kid" things, she's just not there yet. Almost, but not quite. So I get to play singleton mommy for a few days and I'm loving it while it lasts. It's so different. My blood pressure at my OB appointment today was 110/60 and I joked with the nurse that it's because my two older kids are on vacation.


Yesterday I threw off her schedule big time and the poor peanut napped until 7 p.m. as a result, so we went to a pub for dinner (keeping it klassy) and split a bacon cheeseburger. She got my bacon and I got her cheese. The damn place didn't have highchairs, which totally reminded me of that movie with Reese Witherspoon where she's all, "you have a baby!...in a bar" Totes me. Anyway, sans high chair meant Bean ate while sitting on my lap. She managed to sit in a regular chair for part of the meal, but couldn't reach the table well. The cutest. Seriously. Once she finished her beer, we headed over to a friend's house to watch The Bachelorette and she stayed up till 11 p.m. I feel like I'm on 16 and Pregnant with this kind of parenting, but what the hell?



Anyway, tonight I got a sitter and went with one of Lo's therapists to a spin class at a new gym. First of all, damn, I love spinning. I felt (still feel, hours later) so, so good. Note to self: make room in the budget for a sitter so I can take spin once a week. Second of all, I realized that I have no life. Seriously, holy shit, people. I have no life. My kids are my WHOLE life, and I am not theirs. I mean, I kind of realized this after I went to Martha's Vineyard last month and the Earth didn't stop rotating on its axis, but the realization keeps punching me in the face.

I think I need to join something and meet people. Like get out and, uh, make something of myself. Maybe I'll join a running club or something. How high-fashion would it be to run in an adult diaper? Don't judge, four kids in three years and I pee myself at inopportune times.

So what does one do when the life they created ceases to exist? Obvi the kids are still priority numero uno. But now what?

Thursday, June 26, 2014

Freedom, Joy, Growth

"The basis of your life is absolute freedom, the goal is joy, and the result of that perfect combination is motion forward, or growth. Your goal is to find objects of attention that let your cork raise." (Abraham-Hicks)
I've been trying to find my way back here, because once upon a time I really enjoyed writing and I still enjoy looking back on old posts about my kids. Lately my life has been something stuck between denial and a Smashing Pumpkins compilation (melancholy and the infinite sadness, people).

Joe once said that blogs are the only thing faker than Facebook. And I have to say, I agree with him. I've tried to walk the line of truth here as much as possible, but there are some things that are just, well, personal. So the truth, I am six months pregnant and my husband and I are separating. Not like trial separating to see how it feels. But we made a plan to divorce one another and that includes us staying married for a little while so that I can have amazing things like health insurance when I deliver our fourth child this fall.

The divorce is collaborative which is legalese for saying that we worked with a mediator to come up with a mutual agreement that is kind and required a ton of patience and amicability so that our kids are protected and know that they are loved. We will still be seen together in public and in pictures, because we are still a family. I hope that we are proof that sometimes people love each other more when the arrangement is slightly different. I know that we will be proof that our love for our children is paramount to all other things. And that is all I will disclose about my marriage, because some day my children will be literate and they don't need their personal bizness up on the internets.

Someone once made a comment here about our house, calling it the Barbie Dream House. Something that was part judgement mixed with a splash of jealousy and a hint of bitterness. Comments like that are the hard part about sharing parts of your life; sometimes people don't realize they are hurting you. Or worse, they know exactly that they are hurting you and they spit that shit out anyway.

So the Barbie Dream House is on the market, and ironically it's my Barbie Nightmare House, not because there is anything wrong with the house itself. No, the house itself is perfect. It is an amazing, gorgeous, from a magazine house that was intended to be the very start of forever. However, I cannot afford to keep it alone and until it sells I am stuck living inside of it with no option to purchase another home for me and my children. And let's be honest, at 6 months pregnant I am a ticking time bomb.

I found another house, exactly perfect, but the sellers won't take a contingency until the house has been on the market for a longer period of time, so I am waiting and praying no one else loves this house as much as I do. If you know me, you know I suck at waiting.

I wish that the whole thing was cut and dry, but a move comes with all sorts of complications due to Ryan's autism diagnosis. Without getting into lots of boring details and what-ifs, if-thens, if I leave the county I lose Ryan's bussing and if I leave the school district I lose his whole IEP. So, that's stressful not because it can't be solved, but because the solution is completely out of my hands for the time being.

Clearly, a lot of crazy things have been happening and I've been trying to sort it all out. It's left me with a lot of time to think about why. Note, not why me? But actually WHY. What am I supposed to be taking from all of this? Dear Universe, what is it that you are trying to teach me? And I think the answer is two things:

1. Let go. Of control, the need to feel like you are in control, and the idea that life is some picture in your head that you can enact. It is not perfect. It is messy. There are hiccups. (But you survive them.)

2. Some thoughts are better kept to yourself. I am a chronic over sharer and a chronic say exactly what you thinker. I need a filter and an internal edit button in order to preserve relationships with people I love and to protect myself from unnecessary harm.

So, I am learning. I am welcoming the lessons. I am growing.

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