He believes

Belief: Confidence in someone
T has that in spades for me. Way more than I think that I have in myself and my writing.
Thursday I allowed him to stay home in the morning as we had a dentist appointment at 11:50. His tooth has been bothering him. Every time he laid down to go to bed, during the day, suddenly there would be a sharp pain from his jaw to his ear. I was worried that my insurance was not in place and that I was going to end up paying an arm and a leg, which at this time is not an easy task for me. Bonus, not only was my insurance in place but up to the first $200 was 100% covered and everything after that was 60% off. Well damn but isn’t that awesome. (His two appointments were covered within the $200 limit and a $15 balance yet!)
Thursday was a weird day for me. I spent a lot of time with weepy eyes. At the time, I did not know what it was that was bothering me. I do know now however it is not something I am ready to openly blog about. V told me that having ‘leaky’ days, as she calls them, are perfectly fine to have. Yet my mood had not plummeted. I was still having a good good day. Even with all those tears.
T is a little strange and I say that with absolute pride because so am I. He was pumped that he was going to see the dentist. Quite a change from when he was little. The tooth had previously been filled last year. It had been a deep cavity and T chose to have a silver filling put in. Now though, either the tooth had chipped or part of the filling had come off.  Now as an aside, my mouth is not filled with silver fillings but back in my day (making myself sound as though I am 145) that was the only type of filling we could get. None of this fancy white filling like these young whipper snappers get these days. But white is stronger than silver in the filling wars. When he discovered that he was going to have to come back and get a filling the next day T was super exciting. (No word of a lie when we returned yesterday morning he announced to the office at large how much he loved having his teeth filled. I am still terrified of it.)
A white filling was required as Dr. K had to remove all the old filling and refill. She did not charge me extra for the white one which was yet another bonus. But that was a Friday bonus and I am writing about Thursday. After both appointments T did try his darndest to get me to allow him to stay home using the arguements that a) his jaw may start to hurt in the middle of the afternoon on Thursday and b) the frozen tongue syndrome on Friday. He went to school both days.
I had my revelation as we were talking on the way to school Thursday about why I was weeping. T of course had the answer for me. Just Quit. Don’t do it anymore. I had to explain that it did not quite work that way. That I have responsibilities to fulfill. T was silent for a moment.
‘Mom maybe they will hire you and than you can stay home and write full time.’
I was a little shocked as it seemed like a full change in conversation. And than it dawned on me that he was talking New Reader Magazine where I had submitted my poem.  I laughed a little and explained to him while that would be a dream come true, that that was not how things worked. There was no way that they were going to hire me to write full time. But I lived in that fantasy world for a brief moment.
‘Well mom, than you need to write a long book. One with 25 chapters. You will get published and can stay at home and write.’
I smiled and told T that that was what I was doing with Juliette’s Journey. Working title only. And he nodded and sat back.
I was sitting at home after dropping him off when it struck me how confident T was. He made the announcements, the one about the magazine hiring me and publishing my book, as if they were already done deals. He does not have fears like I do. He does not mistrust the words that I write as I sometimes do. He looked at me and he only saw that I was going to do this. No matter what. And that was when I realized that T really believed in me. He did not even consider that I may fail at writing. He believes in this dream with all his heart.
I realize I have a lot of work to do. I have to live up to his expectations of what I am capable of. And I do not want to let him down. I always tell T that he can do whatever he wants to do. If all I do is talk about my dreams yet never chase them, I am saying one thing while showing him another. And I want him to reach for the moon and stars. I want him to dream big and go for it. He is amazing. He is smart. He is a great looking kid. And I need to be the one to show him how to Jump.
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Little Asshole

T came back from his dad’s yesterday evening. 8:23 p.m. Good thing I had gone up to unlock the door already otherwise T would have bounced off it and the banging would begin. He sounds like a herd of elephants passing by when he bangs on that door.
It started off innocently enough. We were chatting. I asked if he had had a good time with his dad and what had they done. What did he have for dinner. Those types of things. He was sitting next to me when I received a pop up notification that I had received a message on Skype. And T caught the name on the notification. And the interrogation begins.
T was 7 when the implosion of my marriage happend. I was not nice. I was not brave enough nor strong enough to tell the Ex that I wanted out of the marriage and to hold firm on it. Instead in my warped way of thinking, I decided I had to do something that would make him hate me. Hating me would mean that he would let go. It was not the smartest nor the right way to do things. I have apologized to him. However T is beginning to ask questions. I am not sure what the Ex has all told him so I am hedging things as he does not need to know the adult issues.
Yesterday T got a little belligerent as he was talking to me. I was trying to explain that no the way that I had ended our marriage had not been the right way. That I no longer loved his dad. That we were both by far happier apart than together. T shut me down after a bit which I was fine with. He was not being his usual self. He was irritable and mouthy. When he went to bed he demanded that I waken him at 5:45 so he could shower. I explained that that was not going to happen as 5-6 a.m. is my time to exercise and get myself ready for the day.
I woke at 4:50 this morning. Than laid there for the full 10 minutes until my alarm went off. I did not want to get up this morning. I am still suffering from the hour jump ahead that occured on the weekend. Pushed myself out of bed and made it! That is right I made my bed as soon as I got out of it. I am sure that mom is having a chuckle right now as she has been trying to get me to make my bed since I was 6. Bathroom. Brush teeth. Read my dream affirmation on the mirror. Stand there with the toothbrush in my hand pointing it at my reflection, specks of toothpaste in the corner of my mouth and hitting the mirror as I say my own affirmations.
Worked out. Worked up a sweat which really pleases me. It means that I am doing the right things. Also I can tell I am getting stronger. Sent the girls their good morning gifs. I was rocking my morning. And it was not even 6 a.m. yet.
After my shower I went in and woke T up. 6 a.m. on the nose as we had discussed the night before when he went to bed. Well I am not sure what happened but the beast that appeared last week, the one that I said was becoming rare, had returned once more. Standing in front of his closet, kicking the box, slamming the hangers around. He cannot find his pants. It was my fault as I had hung them up. I personally was flabbergasted because I knew that we had hung 4 pairs of sweats up last week. He had been for a sleepover all weekend and picked up on Sunday so  he had the same bloody clothes on.
I got frustrated. I did not yell but my voice did become a little louder. I walked into the room and looked behind the jacket and low and behold what do I find? But the 2 hangers holding a total of four pairs of sweats. Now I am frustrated. T has been telling me off because I did not wake him up when he wanted to get up. He had no clothing. I stomped into the bathroom and turned the shower off. Told him that he could turn his own shower on and I was not talking to him any longer. I closed my bedroom door and took several deep breaths.
After showering he was still in a foul mood. Water was discovered all over the bathroom floor which I wanted cleaned up. T got more mouthy and I snapped. No Youtube. What was wrong with him? I was not going to put up with this attitude. All I wanted was for him to realize that the shower curtain needs to be tucked into the bathtub so water does not get on the floor. Take responsibility and please clean the water up.
When I came out from cleaning the water up I was still stewing. T was sitting on the couch and he was crying. I stood looking at him trying to fathom what was going on. I even kept asking over and over what the problem was. T told me at one point that I was yelling. I explained that I was not yelling that I was speaking sternly to him. That there were repercussions for his acting this way. He looked at me and told me that I was ruining his happiness.
This was not my boy. This was not the child who left here on Sunday. I sat on the floor and wiped the tears from his eyes. I told him that I was not responsible for his happiness. That yes there were things that I could do to help him, but he had to find his own happiness. I could not do that for him. It took me how many years to realize true happiness. I am talking about the happiness that imbibes your days with good thoughts and feelings. Where you can see the good rather than the bad. I told T that he needed to learn this now because I did not want him to be 45 years old before he found his true happiness.
As I was explaining this to him I was crying as well. My heart hurts because I know that T is hurting. I know that this acting out has something to do with the passed two days of his not being with me. I forgot you see, how T is when exposed to his dad for an extended time period. I do not want to be one of those ex’s who tears the father of their child down but I am so frustrated. I would love though to be a fly on the wall when T was there so I could see and hear what was going on. Because I have to tell you, having the beast return is not a fun thing.
Despite all signs to the contrary, with tears in my eyes, I told T that I was happy. That we had a life together. A routine. I want him to be happy.
Now he is sitting on the couch watching t.v.  I know. I said no Youtube and yet here we are. I also know that when T acts like this that it is not me. This is not an indication that I am doing anything wrong. I am not failing as a parent.
T and me have been talking. And he tells me about all the plans that he and his dad have for the summer. The Ex also text to let me know he was off Friday so he would take T. An extra day together. Today T informs me that his friend is coming over Friday. I became a little annoyed. I did what I should not have done. I said that I had thought that the reason his dad was taking Friday off was to spend extra time with T. I was assured that they would be.
I need to prepare myself now. As I was typing this I suddenly realized what was going on. T had expectations/ideas of what spending the time with his dad would mean. More time hanging out together. Reality is something very different. So when T comes back to me he is billigerant  and upset because things have not gone to plan. Hmmmmmm I wonder where that trait comes from. And than we have to have a melt down. It is almost as though T is pushing my buttons to see if he can set me off. Wonder if he thinks that if I get angry that it means I care more?
At 9 T is begining to understand that there are disappointments that occur in life. Things are not always going to be the same all the time. But there is a time when things do need to be the same all the time, to be consistent, and that is being there for your child. For standing next to them even when they do not want you to. It took me a long time to realize that as well. Lately I have been having flashbacks to when I was drinking and how I treated T. I am going to have to deal with that eventually.
What I do for now, is provide him with the consitency that he craves. I will follow through when I tell him that we are going to do something or go somewhere. I will be his mom. Not his friend, his mom. We have time enough to be friends when he is older. For now he needs a mom to love and guide him. To provide boundaries while still allowing him to grow and learn. And to call him out when he acts like a little asshole. 😉

Butt Lift

Still having issues with the writing but I found humor in this and I hope you do as well.

On the way to school this morning T and me are talking about how if I win the lottery we would go to Egypt for sure. He also still had to go to school but we would travel as much as possible.

We are sitting at the last stop sign before turning right and letting T off. I look over at him. His blue jacket zipped all the way up, hood on, pulled up to his nose. He has been a little crabby this morning.

‘I also want to get a butt lift.’

‘A what?’

‘A butt lift.’

‘Mom what is a butt lift?’

‘Well that is when one pays to have their butt lifted. Firmed.’

I glance over and struggled to contain my giggles. T had reared back against the door and his nose was wrinkled in disgust. The look of abject horror was almost too much to stand.

‘No mom, no, you are not allowed a butt lift.’

And than I dropped him off at school and we did our ritual good byes. I love that boy so much. It is fun to tease him because he cannot hide his facial expressions and well those are the most fun to see.

A Year in Review Part I

Yesterday was December 9th. A year ago I quit smoking. At the time I was deep in the grips of a depressive episode that I would not seek medical attention for until February 2017. I was still drinking heavily and my body was trying to get my attention in so many ways, to alert me to the fact that there was something very very wrong with me. I was sluggish. Unhappy. Smoking like a chimney. T was unhappy. My work was suffering. I was getting cold after cold. My body screaming for me to realize what was going on. My brain though, so adept at pretending that I am not depressed, continued to delude me that all was fine. I would just consume more alcohol. I would watch television all the time. My home was not as clean as it is now. I was not cleaning the cat litter daily.
I had fallen on the Tuesday evening. Ended up giving myself whip lash. On Thursday I was in so much pain that I went to the Quick Care Clinic. Learned that I was going to have to take a few days to let it heal so I could do my job. And than they took my blood pressure. 160/95. My heart stopped beating for a second as I went omfg what is going on? And than and there I decided that as soon as I finished my last pack that that was it, I was quitting. Did I maybe drag it out a little? Yes. But I smoked my last cigarette on the eve of December 8th and woke up on December 9th a nonsmoker. I used the patch. For two weeks. The two weeks running up to Christmas.
I was still drinking. But I did not light a cigarette. I may have been a little snappish. I cried when I was at home alone, a lot. Day by day I went, and I worked and I moved away from the lure of nicoteine. After Christmas, I worked a few days and had a seven day break. During this time, I did not wear my patch as I did not go anywhere. T and me we hung out and really did nothing much. And the first day back to work, I forgot to put my patch on. I worried that I was going to have the urge but I did not. I think the realization that I was heading directly for a stroke, which are prevelant in my family, made me sit up and take notice.
Plus there is T. I want to be here to see him become a young man. I want to see his dreams come true. I want to see him fall in love and have a life he loves. Would I like grandchildren I am sure I will but at the moment I want to enjoy this time with him.
When I was 14 years old, I went through a bout of depression that lead to me trying to hurt myself. Turns out that there are two things that kept me alive at that time. 1) I have a really wicked imagination. And all I could see in my mind’s eye was my mom and my brother standing over my grave while my coffin was lowered into it, crying and asking each other why. My brother was 7 years old and like hell was I going to traumatize him like that. I was suppose to protect him from pain and not cause it. And my mom did not deserve that heartache no matter how mad I was with her. How I thought that she could not understand me. 2) I am the world’s biggest wimp, omfg! It hurt, it hurt more than the pain and rage inside of me. And I did not even cut myself that deeply.
Flash forward, here I am, 44 years old, 30 years later and I had a choice to make. And I chose to quit smoking. I chose my love for T and my desire to be here for as long as I can.
During this time period K3 began to harrangue me about writing. That I needed to start a blog and how awesome it was. I hemmed and hawed about it before I decided to check it out.
I began writing about myself and T. As I began to come out of my depression, I wrote about that and my anxiety. I relearned how to be happy. The worst of it, was how much it hurt to realize that it had been so long since I had been happy that I was actually a little frightened of it. I began to write and share my poetry. And it has been wonderful.
I entitled this A Year in Review but this is only the first part. I am thankful for the journey that began a year ago, a journey that I look forward to with a joy and eagerness that sometimes catches me by surprise. I need to put it into perspective for myself before sharing.
Most of all, I am thankful for all of you who have decided you like my quirks and writings,  I appreciate all of you. And I hope you enjoy this journey along with me as much as I am.

Like, Um, Just

Last week this all began. Thursday was the day of the absolutely mortifying conversation and subsequent change in behaviour. That was all the day that T and me talked. I did not yell or scream, he did not feel he needed to make excuses, we talked. And than we even sat down and had dinner together.

As T and me are eating and having even more conversations, I slowly become aware of the fact the every other word out of T’s mouth is like. Followed by um. Flashback to the day before when I was going to the back to do something and passed a young woman on her phone. Every second word in that 30 second snippet I overheard was like. Like this, like that.

Now I guarantee you that as Chichi is reading this, she is howling over her cup of Yarba chortling ‘oh Jay.’

The story behind the word like in our household:

I am a child of the 70’s and 80’s. Valley Girl idioms made their way as far north as Winnipeg, Manitoba. So like was a popular word. My mom hates it. My aunt who is an editor hates it. I now realize why.

In February 2016 I went and spent two weeks with my mom. Am pretty sure that those two weeks saved my life because when I came back home I had a game plan for how to move away from the toxicity I found myself in. Chichi and me walked a lot and talked. We always have. Or rather, I have always told her everything and she in return tries to not offer advice but listen and allow me to talk my way through it.

I imagine after about a week Chichi was exasperated by my continued use of the word like in my sentences. Finally she demanded of me if I knew how often I said the word like when I was speaking. I was taken aback. I never use the word like I countered. Really? Chichi challenged me to listen to what I was saying and to count how many times I used it.

Holy cow Batman!

It was horrible. I was using like as though it were fairy dust and I was sprinkling that shit everywhere.

Like is the lazy way of speaking, Chichi and my Aunt ringing in my head. You are in too much of a rush to speak and not to find the words that will help you express what you need to. (As a writer I understand however 2 years ago I was still bumbling around in the dark, lost and buried beneath my life and unhappiness.)

It took a lot of perseverance but I was able to do it. I stopped in the middle of sentences a lot for a while when the word like danced on my tongue. But I did it.

Now flash forward to my household and T’s receiving the exact same lecture that I did 2 years ago. I explained how it was considered to be a lazy way of speaking. That he needed to slow down and think about what he was saying. T looked at me and went okay mom. And as I type this I realize that I have not heard him use the word like at all.

Before though you raise your morning coffee/tea and salute me in this I do have a confession to make:

I have discovered another word that I overuse when I am writing text messages or am talking and that word is ‘Just.’

I just walked in the door.

I just got off the phone.

I just, I just, I just, must, need to find another word to describe the moment.

🙂

 

My True Career

This is not truly a conversation with myself but a friend this morning. We were talking about my post from last evening and he was congratulating me on how I had handled the situation. That most would have shied away from touching on such a difficult subject with a prepubescent child.

I responded with:

There was no point in pulling any punches. With all that kids these days are seeing, hearing, watching and reading, how so much violence and pain is sensationalized and we become inured to it. I will not be party to making my child complacent. He needs to be horrified by violence, pained by the trials of the world that we are living in. (I added in a little more to clarify and paint a picture of what I meant)

It is my job to show him that the world is not always going to be kind but his kindness and his goodness will make a difference.

That is my job as his mom.

 

 

We will be ok (Better Than)

After our conversation regarding rape last evening T and me, we went on to have several more conversations. I was and am intrigued to discover, in hindsight, that due to our discussion about the aforementioned r talk, T now feels like he can ask me questions and I am not going to get angry about them.

He asked for the definition of bitch. A female dog, wolf, fox or otter. A difficult situation or person. If he really wanted to tick people off, ask them why they thought he was a female dog? Stymies them like crazy. (Someone had called him a bitch)

What about the f bomb mom? Is that also sex? Well, if you look up the definition that is the first one; having sexual intercourse with someone. So I tersely explained that it was more of a rough term. Than there is the situation aspect.

This morning he asked me about a**hole? What did that mean? So I said well, a mean or nasty person. But no mom, what does it really mean? Well your butt hole, also properly known as the anus. We also looked this one up.

Those of you who have been following T and me for awhile, know my frustration that T does not like to read. Well, he decided to take his Dog Man 3 book home to his dad’s with him to finish. Is looking forward to the new one coming out. Maybe I am being too optimistic in thinking that our conversation last night is having some effect here. Also that given his nature, I think deep down T is horrified that they used this word. Being cruel is abhorrent to his true self. So, he may be trying to educate himself on words and their meanings. (When you know the root meaning of words sometimes they can take the sting out of them when parsed that way)

We sat at the dinner table and talked while we ate. There was a lot of talking going on last night. And this morning. He is in awe of how fast I can type and the fact that I do not need to look at the keyboard. Ha, I was trying to show off to him and this is basically what I type: Txhyyyyyy llmgtw oooot yeah mom you so smrt. T asked where I had learned and how long it had taken. And how did I know where every letter was on the keyboard.

But the best conversation of all was our conversation about Mexico and Chichi (mom) and myself maybe retiring down there. Not likely at the moment but a woman can have dreams. I cannot even afford a two week holiday there lol, never mind move. But T was full of questions. How old had I been when Chichi moved? Had it been hard? And that was when I dropped the bomb on him that I might want to move there.

The look on his sweet 9 year old face was one of hell no, uh huh you are not going anywhere mom. And thus the list of reasons why I cannot move to Mexico:

  1. It is a poor country
  2. It is too hot
  3. They have nothing new
  4. The cars are very old
  5. Why would I want to live in an area that meteorite are known to frequent.
  6. He could not go 10 months without seeing me

Counter arguments:

  1. The area that Chichi lives in has some of the richest homes that are only used 2 months out of the year, like Chichi and the beach, well that was their beach.
  2. You do not have to come and see me
  3. Of course they do. Chichi had a flat screen t.v. before we did. (That was due to money though T insisted and I pointed out that this was 2 years ago)
  4. He had to take into account that they were a coastal area and the sea salt did damage to the vehicles.
  5. Not since the last one 65,000,000 years ago
  6. There was skype and whatsapp

And he looked at me and said No mom, I could not go 10 months without seeing you in person every day. Now this might be a stretch because you have to remember that he does go 14 days out of the month without seeing me. Okay save for when he and his dad come shopping and I always get a hug and kiss. But still. My heart melted and I looked at my little boy. I love him so much.

He than farted. 🙂