Can't Keep Letting it Get You Down

Having my midterm project and midterm paper sneak up on me has made me into a stressed out, constantly queasy, over tired mess.

Added to the mess is that for the last couple weeks, I have been hearing Agent M tell me how he hates his dad and how "stupid" (his word, not mine) his dad is. What makes it more annoying to me is that the causes are all little, correctable things. They are things that, to me, seem like basic parenting. It is hard enough to not get frustrated when The Ex treats me in a way that I would never treat him, and to let go of how I would "expect" him to act. But when he does things (or not does things) that cause Agent M to yell for 10 mins "I hate my dad!" over and over...well, it sucks.

Yesterday's event was caused by something that meant a lot to Agent M, that I had specifically asked his dad about, and yet, Agent M has possibly missed out on something because his dad did not take the time to check the date of something. Any guesses?

We missed a book order.

Minor right? Not the end of the world by any means. But, this is not the first time that I have asked his dad to make sure I get the book order form so that I can order something for Agent M. Actually, his dad had the book order form since last Friday, did not tell me, and when Agent M told me about it early in the week, I specifically asked his dad when the due date was since I wanted to order a book or two for Agent M. His reply was just that he did not know off the top of his head. So I asked if he would at least send the order form with Agent M when he came to my house on Friday. Which he did. Even though it says across the top in bold, black lettering: "DUE 3/9/12"

Skipping Agent M for a moment, here is where my expectations come in:

• When I have gotten the book order forms, I have let his dad know. I have told him the due date, asked if he wants to look over the form, etc. He never has. I expect him to do the same for me, so that I can be as involved as possible and have the chance to get something for Agent M, who loves getting book orders. 
• I expected him to check the due date when I asked, not just say "I don't know" and then blow it off as not important enough to check. 
• I expected him to give a rip that I would want to do something for Agent M and meet me halfway on it by getting the info to me when asked, or just by letting me know ASAP.
• I expect that he would have noticed the due date when putting the order form into Agent M's backpack (The Ex was the one to take it out and put it back in, Agent M said), and even if it was Friday morning when he noticed, I would have expected him to send me a quick text or phone call to say, "Hey, my bad. It is due today, then if you want to go drop off a check and fill it out before you go to work, you can."

Basically, I expect him to do for me what I would do for him. And that is my big mistake in all of this divorce/ co-parenting attempts. I simply can not expect anything from him - good nor bad. (I also have been told that I can not do all of those things for him that I would expect in return - but I always do what I can to encourage him to be a better parent for Agent M, so that's a harder habit to break.) When I have these expectations, I know that chances are, I will be let down. I will get frustrated. I will wonder why he does things in such a way. And I work hard to just let it all go.

And this is where Agent M comes right back into focus.

"I hate my dad! He always is messing things up for me! He never turns stuff in on time!"

What the hell do you do when your heart and joy is so upset by something completely out of your control, so minor to have prevented, and it has pissed you off also? 

I breathed. I let him rant and wail a little while I mentally did the same. And then, I calmed myself down as much as I could, and chose my words carefully. I told Agent M that I was really sad also. I told him I felt it was unfair also. I told him it was not worth hating someone for it though, and he was better than to waste his energy on hatred. We talked about possible ways to keep it from happening again. We talked about Agent M being the one to make sure the book order is given to me, a position I do not like to put him in but he said he doesn't want to give it to his dad from now on. I told him I was talk to his dad and see if there was a better system that we could work out to keep this from happening over and over. And when asked why does his dad do this type of stuff, I was honest and told him I just don't know. And I told him that I would talk to his teacher on Monday and see if there is any way that I can still get an order in. Because I might not be able to control or prevent what happens on his dad's end of things, but I can control what I do. I can do what I can for Agent M, especially if it will show him that I pay attention to what matters to him. And even though a book order is minor in the big picture, it mattered to him. 

No NaBloPoMo Today

No prompt this morning. Just not feeling it right now, there's too much "other" on my mind.

Big snafu on my part last night. It's Agent M's week at my house, and usually on these weeks he stays the night once with my parents. Last night was that night, since I was going to be working until 9pm anyways. But I had forgotten that The Ex and I had swapped days yesterday, and Agent M was supposed to go to the other house last night.

Oops.

Of course, my being at work meant that I couldn't answer my mobile when The Ex and my Mum were trying to call me. The Ex called my Mum, Mum kept trying to call me, Agent M was unhappy that he couldn't finish Monopoly with my parents, and I was oblivious to all the going-ons. When my Mum called my work, the girl who answered had not seen me and told her I was not there.

Apparently, a small batch of chaos ensued as my Mum then worried that I was dead in a ditch somewhere.

Finally, Mum got through to me. Slight more chaos, and a few phone messages left for The Ex, of me apologizing and asking to talk to Agent M. Eventually I was able to talk to Agent M, who was more forgiving then I expected him to be. Unfortunately, to make things right, he will be spending the night at my parents tonight, so I will not get to wake up tomorrow morning to him climbing into bed and asking for Harry Potter stories. (We both have Thursday off of work/school and other then an attorney appointment for me and soccer practice, we planned to spend the whole day together).

I really am upset over how little I have gotten to see Agent M this week, and I am trying hard to not be annoyed at not getting to at least see him on my lunch breaks today and Friday, but it is what it is. I can't expect my parents to shuttle him across town to my work, just for an hour visit. I am upset to be working so many night shifts this week, but I am looking for a new job that will not make my hours so unpredictable, there's nothing else I can do about it. I am nervous about the appointment with my attorney tomorrow and attorney appointments always make me just want to hole up with Agent M and soak up every minute I can of our time together. But, I can't.

It also does not help that I am all sorts of PMS-y, so simply thinking of the crap The Ex and his attorney have responded with make me want to pull out my hair, stomp my foot in injustice, and cry. His response pretty much ignored everything my attorney and I had gone over and sent to them, so I have a lot of papers to get together again and a lot of questions that I want answered and a lot of muck to point out and drag ourselves through. Why can't this just be easier?

With all of these things on my mind, I barely slept last night. I woke up this morning and could not focus myself to any one project, save for going through emails and a chat with The Swede. Speaking of which, the Swede made my morning a little bit happier, though. He sent me a photo of himself in his work uniform, which I have been wanting to see for some time now. He is so damn handsome in it. I am a sucker for uniforms and getting that photo this morning made me grin like a Cheshire cat. Instead of letting the snafu from yesterday, the sad stuff from today, and the anxious feelings about tomorrow's appointment get me down, I guess I should think of that photo as my reminder to find the good bits.

With that in mind, now I get to head to work. Maybe tonight I will post a response to the prompt.

Shifting

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. 

Happy Birthday Agent M!

Today's the day - in about two and a half hours, seven years ago, I finally got to look at Agent M's face and said, "Well, there you are!".

Every year for the last seven years, I have given him big kisses and hugs on this day. The day he starts another year around the sun, and I start another year of being the mum I hope to be. Every year, I have celebrated this day, and marveled at how much he's grown, his interests, the way my heart grows with each of his smiles, each achievement.

But, this year is uncharted territory for me. This year, he is with his dad. I don't know if he is having a party, I don't know if he is smiling and laughing. I can hope for all of it, and I am sure his dad is doing something to celebrate. But I am not there, he is not here. A two-minute and forty-six second phone call is all we got to share today.

To say that today is hard for me is like saying the ocean has some water in it. I keep trying to focus myself on other things, such as homework, emails, getting dressed so I can go run errands. I tell myself over and over that he is probably having a great time today, and that next weekend we will be on a family trip together. I think of yesterday, when we went to The Hamburger Farm, and how much fun we had as he got to pet a cow and grind wheat. But, the tears keep coming. My eyes are puffy and my head hurts.

There is no denying that in the last year, we have gone through so many changes. Last year, his dad and I still had a joint party, and it was successful, probably partially because it was big enough for us to not have to interact with each other. This year, when the subject of a joint party came up, I was the one to say i did not think it would be a good idea. Too much hurt, too much frustration in the last year, and I just didn't think we would be able to split a party 50/50 and be civil to each other the whole time. In this way, not seeing Agent M was my choice. Because I did not want to risk him seeing his parents clash on his birthday.

I don't know where this post is going, or where I meant to take it. Today is a difficult day, but like all the other difficult days, I know good days will follow and I have a lot of love and support. When these rain clouds come, my friends and family are here to open umbrellas for me when mine has turned inside out. This is just another bit of being a single mum that I knew to expect, but never could have imagined the impact.

Pink is Not the Color of Confusion

I'll admit - I get a lot of my news bites from the Yahoo! front page. News blurbs at the click of a visually pleasing thumbnail. Though it wasn't on the top page at the time, one in particular caught my eye like a flashing hot pink strobe light.

Hot pink-toenailed boy in J. Crew ad sparks controversy

Wait...what?!?! 

That's right - in a world where Japan is one month out from the worst tsunami of our time, our country's budget is barely determined and most of the nation is holding it's breathe while waiting to hear what cuts and hikes will take place....and people are getting unhinged because J. Crew's latest catalog includes a page showing president and creative director Jenna Lyons smiling with her son Beckett "off duty in style", which included painting his toe nails hot pink, which she says is his favorite color. 

On the forefront of the out cry is Erin Brown of the Media Research Center, who went so far as to say that this is a exploitation of a child by J. Crew to push "liberal, transgendered identity politics.", while also making mention that J. Crew is a favorite of Michelle Obama, which anyone can see is an attempt to connect the Obamas to this made-up conspiracy as well.  

But more than the conspiracy theories, the idea of the a "girly" pink nail polish effecting a male child's sexual identity is the real issue here. Dr. Keith Ablow from Fox News goes so far as to say that psychotherapy will be needed down the road for the boy, and this is an "example of the way our culture is being encouraged to abandon all trappings of gender identity." Erin Brown also says "Jenna's indulgence...could make like hard for the boy in the future" and claims that J. Crew is now targeting the demographic of mothers of gender-confused young boys. What I want to know is how one photo and caption could cause an entire culture to feel encouraged to abandon it's stereotypes of gender identity, and who in the world has decided that Beckett is a "gender-confused" young boy? The photo looks to me like a boy and his mom, genuinely smiling at each other and having fun. No confusion there and certainly nothing that looks suggestive of a difficult life ahead. 

On an segment for ABC News, Dr. Edward Hallowell, a child psychologist who urges parents "first and foremost to enjoy" their kids on his personal web site, explains that it is normal and common for little kids to cross-dress and play make-believe in other people's clothes. Children are naturally curious and don't assign gender to things until they are told so - trucks are not "boy's trucks" and pink is not a "girl's color" until someone has told them that they have to think that way. Obviously, Beckett is lucky enough to be being raised where he can express himself and his interests with out shame or being pushed into an expected role by his parents.

It makes you wonder if there would be the same type of out roar if the nail polish had been blue. From personal experience, I know how reactive people can become over boys in nail polish. One of Agent M's favorite things was once for me to paint his toe nails after I painted mine. I'd pull out the cigar-box sized basket of every color under the sun and just let him pick. Sometimes it was pink, sometimes black, sometimes it was two or three colors per foot, though mostly he favored the bottle of navy blue polish with silver glitter. He'd seriously hold as still as possible while I applied the tiniest of brush strokes, then would sit stiff as a post while we waited for our nails to dry. Those memories are more about the time we spent together though - not what color choice he was making. Never once did it cross my mind that I was endangering his gender identity, just in the same way that I don't worry that he'll grow up to be any less masculine just because he is primarily raised by his mother. To the people who would comment on it, most thought it was cute but a couple did remark that at least he was wearing "boy" colors (these were not the people who saw his toes in their red and pink phase). Agent M and his dad even sported matching colors for a while. It just was never a big deal. He asks every now and then for me to paint his nails, but mostly isn't as into it anymore. Does he seem confused over his gender? Not at all. Am I saving up money for future psychotherapy sessions? Nope. He's a happy, well-loved, healthy kid. Just like I am sure Beckett is. 

I do agree with Erin Brown on one point though - she states in her article "Not only is Beckett likely to change his favorite color as early as tomorrow...", which is completely true. And with that acknowledgement that he could change his own mind at anytime, no matter what color toe nail polish he wore that day, it also makes the issue that much more ridiculous.