A few random thoughts on our Spring Break.

1.  Other people’s kids are really fun when you know they’re going home at 4pm.

2. Kids are happiest when playing in a cardboard box or something weird found at the bottom of the toybox.

3.  Cannot believe I wanted 5 children for the longest time, though it’s been a good week with the big kids home I had visions of what Dawn Meehan’s life is like every day, all day.  I would be wiped.

4. Blue bubble gum from Grandma-Easter Bunny was a terrible idea.  If only B would’ve got it in his hair instead of the hilariously spotty carpet so I could cut it.

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Striking out.

I’m like the most uncoolest mom ever, lately.  After the drama of the neighborhood bully-at-the-busstop incident, I decided to stand firm on the subject of his younger brother.  I sat down B and E after school the following day and made it very clear that said brother was not welcome to play at my house aka live there between 4 and 7 pm, unless he was willing to make a change in his own behavior and be a real and decent friend.  And sat him down and had a talk when he enevitably showed up as if the day before hadn’t happened.

Literally had to explain that it’s not acceptable to just be nice when his brother isn’t around and that putting up with or participating in foul language and bad behavior when the brother is there is not appropriate friend behavior.  “Be a friend all the time or you’re not a friend at all” was met with crickets.  “But we apologized at school” *sigh*  as if that’s a free pass to go right back to the same ole.  I’d give about anything for a nice neighbor kid for B to play with at night or on the weekend.

Neighbor kid been by several times and I’ve told him the same thing each time and had a very upset B today, but I just won’t budge.  Though I will keep my word if he does indeed turn things around, I don’t care if they ever play again, no matter how bad I feel about the family dynamics going on at his house.  I have enough problems.

 

Another week down, million more to go!

Ah motherhood!  To say it goes day by day is an understatement.  I’m always thankful for surviving to the next one without losing my mind or my heart breaking.  We had a good school week.  No screaming matches over getting homework done, though B still didn’t remember to bring home his spelling words to study.  It sounds like the most stupid thing ever but it is the struggle of every single week.  At least I know that the kid will never ever forget my pestering on spelling.  I was also pretty proud of him bringing home a division worksheet where he only missed one.  I cried.  I’ve been working with him on math, always a scary prospect, since he doesn’t seem to glean anything from his teacher – I hold them both responsible ha.  But he’s at least getting something.  Sometimes the weight of that responsibility is huge – why God couldn’t I have an over achiever or self-starter?  Even a mild independent like myself? 

Before I could do a dance and jig (but after I’d hung up the fridge candy) my child came home from grandma’s.  Now we’re back to normal – bratty, exhausting behavior.  Thank goodness this only lasts temporarily to he remembers where he lives and gives up the ghost.

I snorted/laughed so hard at this moment in Weeds:

“Nice, Shane goes on a paint rampage, gets suspended. The two of you ditch school to fuck in my guest room. I’ve got everything under control. ”

I’m reminded it can always be worse, school troubles and mouthing off I’ll take.  Stay away tween years, stay far, far away from me.

 

fresh air

I woke up today without the 50 pound weight on my heart.  Positive, hopeful, energized.  The mess is still there, still battling with making my current life work but something is different for today.  I’m going to enjoy it and be productive before the paralyzing self-doubt and weighty decisions come back.

Super psyched to have a new-to-me dresser, mine literally falling apart last week. Those little surprises are nice, especially ones that aren’t even on my goal list like the couch that will soon bite the dust.  My family insists I throw it away, but I can’t – I’d still love to reupholster it some day.  It’s been around since our first house, I can’t part with it totally.  I didn’t have a security blanket, but maybe this is mine.

 

Pearls and high heels.

Turns out I love all the things I ran from, and wish I could have. Go figure. I like being home with my kid. Happiest putting away the laundry, making a casserole, baking a pie.

Yes, a pie makes dinner perfect.

 

I’ve been walking around in a haze.

Not just keeping people at the normal across the street distance but rather across town.

Looking back at my journal from a few months back, I should’ve seen it coming. It was only a matter of time before things got worse.

Now I have no idea what to do with my life, what I want to be. Feeling like the bratty child who ‘just doesn’t wanna’ anymore. A lot of good it’s done me in the last decade. I’m tired of being a grown up, doing what’s expected of me. Why should I have to be the sad single mom stereotype to provide for my child.

I’m damn tired of hearing it for working too much – stopped that but then I don’t make enough, so by gosh I should be fighting over child support.

I don’t want to.

Don’t think I could find any more dishes to wash, mopping and laundry will have to fill the void of theraputic cleaning.

 

And a dash of water.

I’m torn. I go back and forth between what is more disgusting and in need of replacing – the couch or the carpet. After last week’s toe incident, I was leaning again to carpet. Then while trying to get a bowl out of the cupboard B slipped and knocked over the fish tank on the bar, spilling it on the couch. Surprisingly, a scenario I’d never considered.

All the fish were accounted for and not eaten while flopping on the rug. If I hadn’t seen it happen I would’ve thought the fish staged it so we would clean their tank walls. The sucker fish we have seems to be retired and just doesn’t eat any algae anymore.

Now I’m thinking that no matter how much I clean the worn out fabric it will always be fish-couch to me. I can’t even sit on it. It does make me feel less like I’m cheating on the couch thinking about new fabric. I do love it so.

I’m reminding myself someday I will laugh really hard (“mom, you’re hurting my ears”) at these memories.