Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Mutual Benefits

There are so many days when I just want to make a deal with a well-paid friend to get married, and in exchange for me cleaning house, cooking, and doing the 'housewife" stuff, they would fully support me and Agent M. I would then have time to get my own craft/freelancing stuff really going, thus eventually bringing in my own income as well. It would be a great setup - they would always know they are coming home to a clean house and dinner ready for them, and I would be able to do all the crafty things I have the supplies and ideas for. Since it would be a friend, we could each date as we want, there would be no jealousy, and chances are we'd get along well since we're just friends. None of the "Honey, you spend too much time playing video games" or "Darling, do you still find me attractive?" issues that couples have. And I'm not looking to free-load, since I'd work my tail off around the house to make it a wonderful home, and I'd work hard to get a shop going and bring in income for my personal expenses. This little day dream seems perfect...

...and then I remember that all of my friends are just as broke as me. Hahaha. Sigh.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011


Too often I start posts on here, and end up letting myself get pulled away to other things. I need to work on that.


I have tried to keep a line on this blog, one that is not to be crossed. The thin line between sharing my thoughts and life, and keeping a bit of it to myself, keeping the specifics muted to the point of being vague.

But, damnit. Tonight, I am sad.

Tomorrow is Agent M's picture day at school. The Ex and I talked briefly about it and he decided to not order photos, only I am. But it is a "Dad" week, so even though I am the one buying photos, I have no clue what his Dad is going to have him wear for tomorrow. While at work, I called and left a message on The Ex's voicemail asking if I could just swing by and drop off a shirt for Agent M to wear tomorrow, and drop off the order form/payment envelope. Hours passed and I got a text message back. The Ex said they would not be home tonight but I could drop the shirt off at his grandmother's house. Worked for me.

But then, three people called in sick to work tonight and I had the chance for a couple hours of overtime. I called and left another voicemail for The Ex. Can I bring the shirt later or would they be home by then and I could just drop it off to him. I made a point to say, I will literally just be dropping it off and leaving, could even have Agent M run out to the car and get it from me. I got a text back.


Grandmother wasn't going to be home after all. He told me that my options were to either give Agent M the envelope in the morning before school started or order online. No mention about the shirt and never mind the fact that even with ordering online, you have to turn in a copy of the receipt on photo day or else the photographers will have no clue about the order and you won't get your photos. Plus, this made me wonder - where the hell is Agent M? Why are they going to be out so late on a school night, or is it just that he doesn't want me going by his house? (Which, if that was the case, he could have just said, "I'd prefer you not to come by", and that would have been the end of the subject.) I left a last voice-mail saying I had gotten the message and had misunderstood. I thought they were going to be at his grandmother's house. I just wanted to drop off a shirt, instead of having to go to Agent M's school early tomorrow morning, wait for him to get dropped off, and then pull Agent M aside to change shirts when he could be playing with friends. But whatever. If those were the only options he was going to let me have, I would make it work.

And this is what makes me sad.

Why is it so difficult? Why is it back and forth through text and voice-mails? Why can't I just drop off the damn shirt? Why does it seem like every time The Ex and I have a decent conversation, it is followed by weeks of him being uncommunicative? I have patiently wait for replies to emails, and have gotten none. I have asked for the last of my things that he is refusing to give me, he has ignored me. I have tried to be friendly and lighthearted at soccer games, practices, and the rare few times we have seen each other outside of Agent M's pick-up times. But I feel like I am constantly met with stony silence, annoyance, and, at times, a look of "Why the hell are you trying to talk to me?".

I don't want much and I expect even less from this whole divorce tango. But I want to get along for Agent M's sake. For my sake. I want to be able to chat about his school progress and cheer him on together at games. I'm not looking to be best friends. I just want to be able to have a decent, co-parenting, communicative relationship. I just want the bitterness to be gone and to get on with my life.

I just wanted to be able to drop off the shirt.

Friday, September 16, 2011

Roller Coaster

Today has been one of "those" days.

The type of day that began with Agent M and I both waking up early, hanging out on my bed for a little bit, and then casually getting ready to take him to school. No rush, no hustle. Dropped him off to school and made it back home by the time we usually are rushing out the door.

The type of day that had a long To-Do list, but nothing too time consuming. In the last few hours I've called and made an appointment with my college class counselor, called and got a scholarship so that Agent M can take chess classes at his school again, talked to The Swede a little bit before he went out for the night, caught up on reading emails, and sent off an email to The Ex. I was getting ready to dye my hair, and figured I'd go run a few errands before picking up Agent M from school.

Then the phone rang.

Sparing the details, the phone call was concerning an errand I had to run today. By the time the call ended, I was feeling antsy, angry, stressed, and full of money worries. So, I did what any close-to-30-year-old would do when feeling that way.

I called my mum.

I vented. I stressed out. And she calmed me. She didn't take it personal when I said no to every option she presented, and she was kind when I apologized and acknowledged that those were some pretty good options actually.

When I got off the phone with her, I dyed my hair, called my attorney to touch base and see if I'm any closer to actually being done with the divorce. More confirmation and encouragement from them. Still feeling antsy and full of "Fight-or-flight" frustration, I went downstairs and ate a slice of swiss cheese. Contemplating and planning my next seven moves with each bite and chew. I ran back upstairs as fast as I could, plunked out these words, and am going to put plans into action. I'm not going to let the fear of the next moves scare me into submission. I've got so much good going on, and today has so much potential for awesome. One phone call is one phone call. I'm the one in charge of how it effects the rest of the day. I will keep telling myself that today, as the plans unfold, if I begin to falter.

Today has been a roller coaster and it's barely past noon.

Saturday, September 10, 2011

Snapshot Saturday

We are on a mini-holiday in Indio this weekend, with my parents, my aunt and uncle, and three cousins. This morning, while everyone else was still in their bedrooms, I went out to sit on our third-story balcony, laptop in hand, to take in the view of the pale brown hills and early morning blue skies, with plans to type and get some work done, but found myself chatting online with The Swede and people watching, instead.

There is a long, winding man-made river that weaves through the timeshare complex, with fountains and bridges placed every so many yards. Between the artificial green-blue color of the water and abundance of perfectly maintained plants along it, it looks much like the rivers that wind through mini golf parks. But in a much less kitschy way.

At one point, a man and young child stopped on one of the bridges near our balcony to watch a few ducks. From where I was sitting, it was hard to tell if the pair were parent and child, grandparent and grandchild, or something  else. But the way the man smiled and pointed to the ducks, and the way the child watched in awe was heart warming. It was a simple, private, but universal moment. One of those moments that needs no language, no explanation. It was pure love.

Sunday, September 4, 2011


Most of the time, I seriously wonder why I should do this "writing thing". I am not a mom with all the answers, or even half. I am not the mom that juggles a career, mom groups, and PTA meetings. And most days, I'd rather just lay in Agent M's tent with him and chat, then get up and plan out a healthy, fully organic, sit-down dinner. I'm not an expert on anything, I'm not getting a degree in anything, and I sure as hell do not have prefect grammar. (Which was pointed out to me by a mom-friend when I showed her a quote from my blog that was published in a local magazine. Her exact words were, "So, I take it that in blogging the rules for grammar are more relaxed? That must make it easier for you, because this sentence is definitely not structured correctly." Ouch.)

But, I just read the essay "Without Me, I'm Nothing" by Bonnie Wach. (from the book "Roar Softly and Carry a Great Lipstick"). Somewhere among the paragraph where she details feeling like an outsider in new mom's support groups,  the sentence "I was such a loser I couldn't even get depression right", and her zen-breakthough like moment of realizing that there were alternatives to going to the park like all the other new mothers, something in me felt a shift. I was laying in bed, and when I sat up to set the book down, I was surprised to have a single pooled up tear slowly trail down the side of my face. (A bit cheesy, I know. But that is how much it snuck up on me.)

I don't have to be those moms. I don't even have to fill the shoes of the strong, resilient single-mom who seems to have it all worked out. I just have to be Agent M's mom. His mom who laughs at his bleeped out singalongs to Hugo's "99 Problems" cover. His mom that reads manga to him at bed time and writes our favorite quotes on the bathroom mirror with whiteboard pens. I am his mom that juggles working a barely-above-entry-level job with soccer practices and a desire to go back to school but no budget for it. I don't have to be quiet, I don't have to be like the cool moms, or the smart moms, or the involved moms, or the moms with flashy awesome blogs that have perfect grammar and ads. Those types of moms are all awesome and I am impressed by each of them. But I don't have to be them. 

So, here will be the shift for this blog too. I will write more of what is really on my mind - not try to write the next best blog post each time. I will write with my voice - not the voice I think I should have, or the voice that holds back for fear that my words could be used against me. And I will include more photos. Definitely more photos. Any one who knows me personally, knows the love I have for photos but this blog has never reflected that. And I will use whatever grammar I feel like - and not feel intimated that my sentences might not be "right". I won't shy away from posting, out of worry that no one will like it. This is my corner. I can save the professional, carefully chosen words for other places. This is the space for me, and being Agent M's mom, no matter what that encompasses. And more than anything - maybe one day, just like that story echoed a bit of familiarity back to me, someone will read one of my posts and feel the comfort of knowing that they are not the only one who doesn't fit into any of the mommy molds either.