Shhh...the sun...
For reasons unknown (but suspected to be related to a 3 year old I live with), my copy of "Dead Letter Office" was lying on my bedroom floor yesterday afternoon. So I took it out to my car and listened to it. Flashbacks-ville. I don't care what my ex-husband says, I still think REM's version of "Crazy" is much better than Pylon's.
I love the feeling of accomplishment that comes from surviving the weekend. It wasn't bad at all, really. Ben came over Friday night after his games, we watched another installment of Angels in America and had a few drinks. Unfortunately, we didn't manage to get to sleep until around 3 am--unfortunate because I have a 3-year-old set for no later than 7 am on any given Saturday. He surprized me by waking up at 6:40. Luckily I'd remembered to set out his breakfast, so all I had to do was turn on the tv for him and go back to bed. He didn't seem at all surprized to see Ben emerge from my bedroom later that morning. I'm hopeful this transition goes as smoothly as it seems to be. My main concern is dealing with the jealousy--my son has had me all to himself for the better part of his lifetime, and I'm not sure how he'll feel about sharing me. He'll get used to it. I think we're making this easier for all involved by not deluding ourselves and thinking it's all just going to be starshine and flowers from the word go.
My niece's birthday party turned out to be horrible. It was hot--and my family live a good hour's drive from us--and my car didn't have AC--so by the time we arrived at my parents' house around noon, we were both about to die of heat stroke. Luckily my dad knows cars and was able to freon-me up. I realized while I was there that I am brokety-broke-broke for like, another month, possibly longer. Fuck. So I bought the damn Easy-Bake Oven for my niece even though I really can't spare the 20 bucks for it, and while I was spending money I don't have, I picked up some underwear. Three pair for $4 on a clearance rack? You can't beat it. Besides, I need underwear. Losing 20+ pounds really puts a cramp on your wardrobe, and underwear is not exempt. (But it should be.)
We all headed to my sister's house around 4:00. It was still hot. My sister has one of those pools that you start filling with water and the inflatable ring on top rises with the water and creates some semblance of stability. Ha. My son figured out rather quickly how to climb on the "wall" and create major flooding. He also irritated the shit out of my entire extended family, because my niece is pretty close to catatonic and a girl. I'm fully aware girls can be holy terrors just as easily as boys can be timid, but my niece is most definitely a girl in the traditional sense--quiet, reserved, slow, and bitchy. My family isn't used to the whirling dirvish that is my boy. And I get tired as hell of constantly trying to mold him to their standards whenever I'm up there. So Saturday, I just stopped. I was exhausted anyway, I was hotter than hell, and I was fed up--so I pretty much just stopped paying any attention to what havoc he was wreaking. Around 7:00 I decided I'd heard enough of their subtle bitching about him and we left. On the ride home, he discovered my gym bag in the backseat, pulled out my makeup bag, and "made himself a monster" with my (favorite) blue mascara and a tube of mauve lipstick (lucky for him, not a favorite). If you've never seen a 3 year old boy covered head to toe in blue mascara and mauve lipstick, trust me, you're missing out. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Got him home, gave him a bath (note: blue mascara doesn't really wash off with soap and water), put him to bed. Gave myself a bath in the form of a shower and put on a nice tank and a pair of my new underwear and decided that was all I was putting on until the following day.
Then I realized I was out of toilet paper.
Completely out of toilet paper.
Shitfuckscrew.
I thank my lucky stars I have an amazing boyfriend who will not only respond to my wierd text messages ("help--need toilet ppr & cigarettes--long story--pls help me") but will also come through on their requests.
Yesterday my son's father decided he wanted to spend some time with the boy, so I dropped him off and went to Ben's house. Took a nice nap waiting for him to finish up a round of disc golf, then he treated me to a leisurely late lunch/early dinner of Mexican food and margaritas. We had dessert at his house. Who could ask for more on a Sunday afternoon? The only downside was having to listen to my ex wax philosophical when I returned to pick up el nino. He's (again) recognizing the errors of his ways and now wants to talk me to death. I tried to be nice while explaining to him that I am not qualified to help him sort through his feelings. Christ, when he's not trying to kill me with his anger, he's trying to kill me with kindness. Or something like that. Killing me with neurosis? Yeah, that's more like it.
The ex called me again this morning, as soon as I got to work and parked my ass at my desk. I was hoping it was Ben, so I took the call. Dammit. We really need caller ID on our direct lines, but that would make sense, so it's not likely to happen. Anyway, he called me wanting to reiterate how much he loves me (blah blah blah) and how he wants me to be happy (blah blah blah) and wants me to tell him how he could have prevented screwing up our relationship. Um...you couldn't have. Even if you hadn't been a complete dick, even if you hadn't cut me off at the knees every time I opened my mouth, even if you hadn't told me six months after our son was born that I was fat and needed to exercise but you wouldn't watch our son while I went to the gym, even if you hadn't refused me any form of intimacy that didn't involve an orgasm--there are still so many other reasons. You're not my intellectual equal. We share no common interests. You don't have a job. And a par-tri-hidge in a pear treeeeee...
What the fuck am I supposed to say? In the end, I told him he needed to talk to someone else about it all because I just can't hear it anymore. After all this time, it feels less like an attempt to apologize and move forward and more like a slap in the face.
Not to mention I'm actually happy now. I know what I want out of life. And I've found someone who can give me that and so much more than I ever imagined possible.
My lawyer has emailed me--the custody agreement/petition is ready for me to sign and file. And his firm, of course, is ready to accept my retainer. I'm not exactly ready to hand it over. And I'd really rather see the thing in draft form before I drive up to Liberty to just sign it. I don't even know what stipulations he's included in it, and there are a few non-traditional items I feel a need to include.
I woke up this morning with a sore throat--not unusual given my bad allergies and propensity toward mouth-breathing in the night. But it's almost 11:15 and it still hasn't let up. I feel like I'm swallowing razor blades. And now my sinuses are starting to ache. This means I'm probably actually coming down with my first major sinus episode of the summer. Fuckin' a. I was wondering how long I could last without throwing down some major cash for heavy-duty antibiotics.
Time to pretend I'm working. The florist just brought our weekly arrangement for the front desk and I'm curious to see what phallic undertones this one has to offer. I swear our account is handled solely by a frustrated gay florist--every week it's a new arrangement full of phallic flora. Some of them border on obscene. It's pretty hilarious.
I love the feeling of accomplishment that comes from surviving the weekend. It wasn't bad at all, really. Ben came over Friday night after his games, we watched another installment of Angels in America and had a few drinks. Unfortunately, we didn't manage to get to sleep until around 3 am--unfortunate because I have a 3-year-old set for no later than 7 am on any given Saturday. He surprized me by waking up at 6:40. Luckily I'd remembered to set out his breakfast, so all I had to do was turn on the tv for him and go back to bed. He didn't seem at all surprized to see Ben emerge from my bedroom later that morning. I'm hopeful this transition goes as smoothly as it seems to be. My main concern is dealing with the jealousy--my son has had me all to himself for the better part of his lifetime, and I'm not sure how he'll feel about sharing me. He'll get used to it. I think we're making this easier for all involved by not deluding ourselves and thinking it's all just going to be starshine and flowers from the word go.
My niece's birthday party turned out to be horrible. It was hot--and my family live a good hour's drive from us--and my car didn't have AC--so by the time we arrived at my parents' house around noon, we were both about to die of heat stroke. Luckily my dad knows cars and was able to freon-me up. I realized while I was there that I am brokety-broke-broke for like, another month, possibly longer. Fuck. So I bought the damn Easy-Bake Oven for my niece even though I really can't spare the 20 bucks for it, and while I was spending money I don't have, I picked up some underwear. Three pair for $4 on a clearance rack? You can't beat it. Besides, I need underwear. Losing 20+ pounds really puts a cramp on your wardrobe, and underwear is not exempt. (But it should be.)
We all headed to my sister's house around 4:00. It was still hot. My sister has one of those pools that you start filling with water and the inflatable ring on top rises with the water and creates some semblance of stability. Ha. My son figured out rather quickly how to climb on the "wall" and create major flooding. He also irritated the shit out of my entire extended family, because my niece is pretty close to catatonic and a girl. I'm fully aware girls can be holy terrors just as easily as boys can be timid, but my niece is most definitely a girl in the traditional sense--quiet, reserved, slow, and bitchy. My family isn't used to the whirling dirvish that is my boy. And I get tired as hell of constantly trying to mold him to their standards whenever I'm up there. So Saturday, I just stopped. I was exhausted anyway, I was hotter than hell, and I was fed up--so I pretty much just stopped paying any attention to what havoc he was wreaking. Around 7:00 I decided I'd heard enough of their subtle bitching about him and we left. On the ride home, he discovered my gym bag in the backseat, pulled out my makeup bag, and "made himself a monster" with my (favorite) blue mascara and a tube of mauve lipstick (lucky for him, not a favorite). If you've never seen a 3 year old boy covered head to toe in blue mascara and mauve lipstick, trust me, you're missing out. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Got him home, gave him a bath (note: blue mascara doesn't really wash off with soap and water), put him to bed. Gave myself a bath in the form of a shower and put on a nice tank and a pair of my new underwear and decided that was all I was putting on until the following day.
Then I realized I was out of toilet paper.
Completely out of toilet paper.
Shitfuckscrew.
I thank my lucky stars I have an amazing boyfriend who will not only respond to my wierd text messages ("help--need toilet ppr & cigarettes--long story--pls help me") but will also come through on their requests.
Yesterday my son's father decided he wanted to spend some time with the boy, so I dropped him off and went to Ben's house. Took a nice nap waiting for him to finish up a round of disc golf, then he treated me to a leisurely late lunch/early dinner of Mexican food and margaritas. We had dessert at his house. Who could ask for more on a Sunday afternoon? The only downside was having to listen to my ex wax philosophical when I returned to pick up el nino. He's (again) recognizing the errors of his ways and now wants to talk me to death. I tried to be nice while explaining to him that I am not qualified to help him sort through his feelings. Christ, when he's not trying to kill me with his anger, he's trying to kill me with kindness. Or something like that. Killing me with neurosis? Yeah, that's more like it.
The ex called me again this morning, as soon as I got to work and parked my ass at my desk. I was hoping it was Ben, so I took the call. Dammit. We really need caller ID on our direct lines, but that would make sense, so it's not likely to happen. Anyway, he called me wanting to reiterate how much he loves me (blah blah blah) and how he wants me to be happy (blah blah blah) and wants me to tell him how he could have prevented screwing up our relationship. Um...you couldn't have. Even if you hadn't been a complete dick, even if you hadn't cut me off at the knees every time I opened my mouth, even if you hadn't told me six months after our son was born that I was fat and needed to exercise but you wouldn't watch our son while I went to the gym, even if you hadn't refused me any form of intimacy that didn't involve an orgasm--there are still so many other reasons. You're not my intellectual equal. We share no common interests. You don't have a job. And a par-tri-hidge in a pear treeeeee...
What the fuck am I supposed to say? In the end, I told him he needed to talk to someone else about it all because I just can't hear it anymore. After all this time, it feels less like an attempt to apologize and move forward and more like a slap in the face.
Not to mention I'm actually happy now. I know what I want out of life. And I've found someone who can give me that and so much more than I ever imagined possible.
My lawyer has emailed me--the custody agreement/petition is ready for me to sign and file. And his firm, of course, is ready to accept my retainer. I'm not exactly ready to hand it over. And I'd really rather see the thing in draft form before I drive up to Liberty to just sign it. I don't even know what stipulations he's included in it, and there are a few non-traditional items I feel a need to include.
I woke up this morning with a sore throat--not unusual given my bad allergies and propensity toward mouth-breathing in the night. But it's almost 11:15 and it still hasn't let up. I feel like I'm swallowing razor blades. And now my sinuses are starting to ache. This means I'm probably actually coming down with my first major sinus episode of the summer. Fuckin' a. I was wondering how long I could last without throwing down some major cash for heavy-duty antibiotics.
Time to pretend I'm working. The florist just brought our weekly arrangement for the front desk and I'm curious to see what phallic undertones this one has to offer. I swear our account is handled solely by a frustrated gay florist--every week it's a new arrangement full of phallic flora. Some of them border on obscene. It's pretty hilarious.
posted by Mitzi Green at 9:36 AM
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