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My folks are back from a 5-week RV vacation – welcome home guys! That means that Bean went to their place today, and Dave picked her up there so I’m on an extended Bean hiatus. We’re going to try having Miss O stay with him two nights this weekend, so I’ll have a bit of time to myself. I’m going to have to dedicate the bulk of it to starting to study for my certification tests, but I’ll be sure to work in a little “me time” as well.
I’ve been taking a B-vitamin and Vitex fruit cocktail that a friend spoke of on her blog, in the hope that it will help lessen my irritability … it seems like it has been helping, though I think PMS is the main reason I reach such a breaking point with Bean’s behavior. Last week, when I was going insane with her? PMS. This week, no PMS? I can deal. I did holler a bit more than I would like in a perfect world, but often it’s just to be heard, to break through to her when she gets wound up and carries on. But hollering aside, my stress/frustration/anger levels have been much lower and more manageable this week than they were last week.
Bean managed to spout a few Beanisms off before heading to her grandparents’ today.
Bean was playing with Play-Doh earlier today and told me she was going to make “poopie”. Shortly afterward, we had this exchange:
Bean: Mom – look!
Mommy: What’s that?
B: A big poop.
M: That’s what we’re making with Play-doh today?
B: That’s what I told ya.
Later, she had gathered her ‘My Little Pony’ ponies for “the pony games”. When she was done, she gave Miss O a pony, commenting: “I’m a pony giver. I look for ponies and give them away.”
She can be so sweet, and she can be a total turd. The other day she was mad at me and spewed off: “I’m not going to stay with you anymore. I’m not your friend. You’re st … You’re an indian! You’re a god damnit!”
I’d warned her earlier that calling me stupid again would cost her Clarice (her stuffed reindeer that she is almost never without), so she caught herself on the stupid and let fly with a few she hadn’t been warned about … like I said, she can be a turd …
At school Wednesday they were treated to a round of her screaming no’s. At naptime. This was after she told them she had to go pee, then went and played around in the bathroom and peed her pants. So the screaming no’s that woke the other kids resulted in her being sent to the office. How many parents of 3.5 year olds can claim their kids have been sent to the office? To quote Giles and Spike, “We few, we happy few. We band of buggered.”
Apparently she slammed a door, too (she told me that). Oh Bean … Her teacher also told me (laughing) that when Bean went to the office and they asked her what was going on, she said “I’m just taking a break.”
I wish I knew where she got this bullheaded resistance from … I’m blaming her father. Because I’m not at all stubborn. Or strong-willed. Nor do I resist authority. Or break rules. Never have. Ever.
I’ve been fighting off some cold/upper respiratory thing and now it’s this nagging sore throat/ congestion deal. I’m pretty sure that the spore throat can be attributed to post-nasal drip, since it’s mostly one-sided, but regardless, it hurts and I’m feeling sorry for myself. I was asleep by 9:30 last night, and I’ll be impressed if I make it that long tonight.
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It’s only after a morning starts at 4:30 that starting the next morning just after 5:00 seems somehow acceptable. It’s all about perspective, eh?
Unfortunately, this is how my day began:
Bean, whispering to mommy, at the asscrack of dawn: Can I go build my house?
Mommy: Please lay down and let your sister fall back to sleep.
Bean, screaming at mommy: NO! I will not be your friend ever again. I don’t love you.
And continued in pretend play:
Bean, playing with “puppets”: Fine. I will not be your friend ever again. You can just go home and die!
Mommy: Bean! Why would you say that?
Bean, yelling: It’s just in the puppet show!!
At least it’s a Wednesday, so there’s an end in sight for me. A delayed end, since I have to take Bean to the doctor at 8:30 (she’s complaining of itchiness in her southerly regions), but an end.
It’s a testament to how I’ve grown as a person that I do not respond to Bean with “Promises, promises” when she tells me she won’t be my friend, nor do I say “I don’t love you either” when she gets all petulant. That doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about a few choice retorts, but I’ve matured enough to keep them in my head and not voice them. And to allow them to manifest, imagine the momentary joy of being childishly retaliatory and then let them fade away.
I think, personally, if I didn’t allow myself my internal monologue of ire, I’d be much worse off. By giving my frustration/anger an outlet, even an outlet that I wouldn’t ever pursue and only fantasize about, I defuse it. Since in my head I’ve said or imagined what I’d like to say or do, I’ve allowed some of the steam to blow off.
At least that’s what I tell myself … 
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I hope everyone enjoyed (or is still enjoying) whatever other wintertime holidays they celebrate. Me, I’m a Festivus kind of girl at heart, but I tend to air my grievances year round. And it wouldn’t be fair to challenge the girls to feats of strength …
The girls received some great gifts, but Bean’s favorite is fast becoming her Poingo. Miss O loves anything that helps her walk, so the hippo I bought and the walk and ride toy my folks got her are her favorites.
We were supposed to do a gift exchange and breakfast with a friend and her family this morning, but both my girls ran fevers overnight, and Bean has been complaining of a sore throat. Rather than share the gift of cooties with them, I begged off with apologies. I’ll probably still take the girls out today, but we’ll go to the mall or something, where their cooties will be like a deck chair on the Queen Mary.
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Le sigh … I started this the morning of the 26th and then got caught up with the girls. It’s now 7 a.m. on the 27th. I wish I could say that I was just waking up, but my morning began sometime after 3. No, not a typo. 3:00. That’s when Bean woke up and wanted water, then tossed and turned and said she wasn’t sleepy until Miss O woke up around 4:00. Then Bean ramped it up with tears and shouted “no!”s when I told her to lay down and go to sleep. By 5:30, I had O back to sleep and Bean was telling me she wanted to go read books in the other room.
At that point, my Senseo was calling much louder than my pillow, which had fallen into an exhausted murmur of “come back here …” every few minutes, reminiscent of the way my mom used to protest “I’m awake” when she’d nod off holding the TV clicker and one of us would try to get it from her.
(And now it’s the 28th. And this 7:00 post time is legit – Miss O let me sleep until 6:45. Woot!)
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Speaking of mom, she remarked the other day that I’d made it through two big events in short order – my former anniversary and Christmas.
And you know what? Neither hurt. I don’t hold any anger/bitterness/resentment/hurt from the divorce itself. The anger and frustration I feel is based on present-day events and the feeling that Dave and Shannon don’t always put the kids first. But any residual feelings I may have had have faded. Even under the anger I feel when we’re hashing out what’s best for Bean and Miss O, I can still feel some desire for friendship beyond mere amicability.
There are things I like about both Dave and Shannon, and when I focus beyond the arrrggghhh feeling of debating things like if they sleeping together with Bean in the room and if physical discipline is the way to go (I’m sure y’all know I fall on the ‘hell to the no’ side of the debate), I have these “we could all be friends and do birthdays together, break bread together sometimes …” kind of feeling.
It’ll probably never happen, because to them, any concession to me (on what I want for the girls) or any show of friendship crosses “boundaries”. I refer to this as ‘hooey’, because boundaries are different from me having very valid concerns about the impact their choices have on the girls’ well-being. It’s mind-blowing to me that rather than discuss things in terms of how they impact Bean, every discussion I try to have with them (I say them because it goes through this joint email thing they say I have to use, but it’s usually Dave I’m ‘talking’ to. I think.) centers on how things affect their relationship and about boundaries.
I just feel that there are boundaries and there are ‘boundaries’. Boundaries are me trying to insinuate myself into the day-to-day happenings of their life. That’s not my business, and if I tried to make it my business, I’d be way overstepping. ‘Boundaries’ are me asking them not to shack up with Bean in the room. Yes, it’s something in their home. But it’s something that could have a negative impact on Bean long-term, and that *is* my business.
Like I said, arrrggghhh.
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I have another lunch date today and he’s picking me up at 1:00 to take me out. How very traditional. I’m still kind of freaky about the whole ‘dating’ part of the equation. I love talking with him and we get along great, but I get a kind of weird feeling when I think of it as more than just friends …
I’m going to post this now before I get distracted again.
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Gotta love signing into LinkedIn and having Dave’s girlfriend at the top of the “people you may know” list. While having Dave there was a poignant statement of what is, having her there is kind of an insult, ya know? Nothing really against her, just that your ex-husband’s mistress isn’t someone anyone should “may know”. These things just shouldn’t happen to a person.
Ah well.
I’ve had a few opportunities to talk about the divorce lately, and it’s occurred to me how very trivial it is in some respects. I know, I know – it’s a huge change and all that. And a betrayal, the dissolution of hopes and dreams, and, very often, a huge lifestyle shift. But it’s been just over a year now since I knew it was a real possibility, and I feel … good. Whole. Normal.
And the fact that this post that’s taken me three days to write is finally getting wrapped up on what would be my 9th anniversary? I’ve actually been kind of waiting for this day to just get here. Just so I could tick one more ‘first’ off the list and move beyond it. I made it through the “first solo Thanksgiving”, now I’ve got the “first post-divorce anniversary” underway. Up next are “first solo Christmas; New Years; Super Bowl; Gators in the National Championship game …”
It’s nice to have these ‘milestones’ come and go and have me still standing, still feeling strong, still looking ahead to what life will bring. Of course, there’s still detritus and baggage to trip over along the way.
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Recent Beanisms:
“I’m just playing my xylophone, that’s all.”
“Mommy! I have something very important to tell you! I am not supposed to throw blocks at Connor H____.”
Doing a hand-puppet play in her car seat, where she’s making her hands talk to each other. One is mommy, one is daddy (I’m not clear on who is who in the dialogue):
“I want to get married again”
“No”
“But I want to!”
“Okay. Just give me a minute. Let me get ready.”
“Miss O? Why are you crying Baby Girl?”
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I’m looking forward to Monday.
I just want this weekend past me. I’ve passed the “one year since finding out my marriage was in trouble” date, but it was the weekend after Thanksgiving that it all began, so I want to get past this anniversary. I’m doing okay with all of it so far, just licking my wounds a bit at the total snub from his family, including his sister and little brother, whom I really expected to at least *see* once. I guess it’s possible that Dave is in some way preventing them from seeing me, but I can’t believe that if they said “I’d like to ride along to pick up the girls and say hi to Vick” he’d say “no”, ya know?
I know that it wasn’t always smooth sailing with his family and I, but I never did anything evil or inhospitable toward them. There was just … friction, I guess? We were different in some ways that can’t help but cause friction, but there wasn’t animosity or vindictiveness.
Enough with the pity party. I’m not feeling as melodramatic as this reads, just wanted to get it out there.
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I’m heading out into the Black Friday fray in a little while. Dave will have both girls, so why the hell not. I’m taking my mom with me, so send both of us some patience vibes. We’re very opposite in our shopping strategies. She’s a slow, methodical browser and I’m a “hit and get out” strafer. While I’ve adapted her approach at times, I tend to be more of an impulse shopper than an “I have something in mind and I’ll comb every, single. sales rack until I find it for 95% off” shopper. Usually if there’s lunch and Starbucks involved, we manage to peacefully coexist – my patience levels plummet when I’m on a caffeine-deprived sugar low.
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It’s been an interesting weekend for me. Shannon is at Dave’s; she drove from California with her kids and is staying there all week. And this is Dave’s weekend with the girls, so whatever the sleeping arrangements are, I’ve no say in them. I sent several impassioned emails begging them (since I have to send email to a joint address now, you know) to not have Bean in the room with them, but I don’t know what they decided to do. And I haven’t asked.
They had Miss O during the day, and Dave’s parents arrived in town yesterday. He picked Miss O up in the morning, and I retrieved her from his house in the evening. As usual, I was met outside, as Dave doesn’t allow me in his home. He came out alone, with just Miss O. I know it shouldn’t have bothered me, but neither his mom nor his dad came out to say hi. And damn, that hurt. I was a part of their lives for 12 years, and am the mother of 2/3 of their grandchildren, and they couldn’t even say hi.
I guess it’s possible that they didn’t realize I was there, what with Dave’s insistence on me calling to let him know I’m there and not even allowing me to come to the door. But they had to know I was *going* to be there …
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V – you asked about the chicken wing for Cody. Dogs (and cats, and ferrets, for that matter) can eat raw bones – it’s cooked bones that pose the real risk. I’m not saying raw is completely, 100% without risk, it’s just that a raw bone breaks up in a different way – more in a “shard” kind of way than a “splinter” kind of way. So the risk of perforation is much, much smaller.
My cats used to eat a 100% raw diet, consisting of ground whole chickens, turkey and rabbit with a little bit of greenery thrown in. Here’s a generic “raw feeding” site FAQ page.
If anyone is interested in feeding raw, I’d suggest RawPaws over on Yahoo Groups. My dog experience is minimal, but I’ve fed raw to cats for about 10 years, so if you have some general questions, I may be able to help.
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About Cody, I just don’t know if I can be diligent enough, and consistent enough, to make SURE cats and kids are always safe with him. I get that makes me kind of a sucky pet owner, bu at least I’m an honest sucky pet owner. The heartworm thing alone, while it would be a pain in the ass to handle, logistically, and a huge blow financially, I could deal with. I have a hard time putting a price on life and love. I’m one of those people who probably would consider a kidney transplant for a favorite pet if it were even remotely feasible.
But with the cat- and dog-aggression added on, I just don’t know … I’m trying to convince myself I can somehow make it work, because he’s such a great dog in so many ways … but I can’t shake my fear of something happening to one of the cats, or – worse – one of the girls.
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The time change has us all screwed up … Miss O was up around 4:45 today. Ugh. You know it’s going to be a long day when you’re doing the first nap at 6:30 a.m. Haven’t we reached a point where Daylight Savings Time is anachronistic?
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I am at my wit’s end with Bean today. She does. not. listen. I’m fairly certain I’ve typed that exact sentence – verbatim – at least once before. She acts like a total brat and, short of spanking her, I cannot get her to cooperate. Since I don’t believe in spanking, I spend almost all day in this acute state of frustration and a low-simmering anger with a highly spirited three year old who has no idea how close she comes to bing spanked every 5 minutes.
After PT yesterday, her therapist mentioned how she wanted to address the physical stuff (and brought up serial casting again … I’m leaning toward okaying it), and then maybe an occupational therapist could help with Bean being “all over the place”.
This spoke to a secret fear (and, on bad days, an almost desire, hoping something could explain her behavior) that something is “wrong” with Bean. I imagine that the hallmark of turning three is that most parents – especially those that stay at home with their children – start wondering if their kid is normal, since their behavior defies description and belief. But I’ve wondered if Bean’s behavior is something “more” than just being three for a while …
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Well, I cranked out about 700 words for my ‘novel’ last night, and still managed a lame NaBloPoMo post, so woot! for me It’s not work I’m super proud of at this point, but I figure it’s more important to get words/thoughts on paper than it is to have them audience-ready immediately. ‘Course, to stay on pace for 50,000 words in a month, I need to be getting out closer to 1700 words a day, but it’s a start.
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Dave’s out of town this week. So my free-time weekend was drastically abbreviated into just 8 hours yesterday, and then I received an overtired Miss O and a sick Bean around 5:00. She spiked a 104 temp on Friday night, and ran a lower temp the rest of the day. She got pretty warm again last night, in spite of pre-bed medication with Tylenol, and I had to give her some Motrin in the middle of the night.
Joy of joys, it’s “fall back” time, so that means my morning officially started before 5:00. And before 6:00, I was already at my limit for whining and preschool histrionics. Dave won’t be back in time to take Bean next Sunday night, so I just finished night 1 of 9 nights without a break. And it’s pretty likely Miss O and I will at least succumb to a watered-down version of whatever Bean has, too. Calgon, take me away.
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Lyrics from The Decemberists’ “The Engine Driver“
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I voted. Have you?
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I keep meaning to post about our first windows-open day earlier this week.
It’s a huge deal in Texas, the first full day of no A/C and windows open. It’s Nirvana, to me, as I spent 5 years in Raleigh, NC, where October was the single most glorious month of anywhere EVER. So I *live* for windows-open weather.
So we managed a few full days of it this week, and I’m a pig in slop.
But it has it’s drawbacks.
If you recall, I live next door to a five year old who has charged herself with spreading the Good News. I refer to her as Stalker Neighbor Kid (see this post for details). Because of her, I can’t take Bean out to play in our yard, or I risk SNK inviting Bean to her house or inviting herself over here. And if SNK isn’t outside, they have a dog that barks menacingly at us anyways, so it’s just a regular suck-fest in the back yard.
I was getting Miss O and I ready for O’s bedtime the other night, and I still had my bedroom window open. I could hear SNK out there, but wasn’t really paying attention. Turns out she was sitting on the tree branch that overlaps the fence, and staring in the window at Miss O, and *talking to her*. So not only am I not safe in my backyard, but all bets are off in the house if the windows are open.
Maybe the dogs won’t be the only ones I slip Sominex meatballs to …
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Stef, you asked about carriers. My new love is my Olives & Applesauce half-buckle carrier. Love this carrier. Love it. It has the structured waist that helps take some weight off my shoulders, and mei-tai straps so I can get the perfect fit. I’ve started doing a Lexi twist (some wrap Lexi instructions) with a Tibetan tie – although my Tibetan is modified a bit, so I don’t have a double cross just a single one. The Lexi plus the Tibetan help redistribute the weight a bit, too.
I bought a tall Himmel, but the thing is just *hugantic* on me. It’s a really comfy and nice carrier, just too big for me to use. Unfortunately, you can’t seem to give Himmels away on the FSOT boards right now, so I’m kinda stuck with it for now. If I can’t sell it at a decent price, I may just hold onto it until Miss O is bigger, tho the straps will still be monster long on me.
If I could sell my unused carriers, I’d totally get a custom O&A. I know. I have issues. But at least it’s a good cause, right? I’m supporting a WAHM/made-in-the-USA business and buying things that allow me to cater to Miss O’s need to be carried all the time. Total goodness.
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Thanks so much for all the comments and support on my last post. Your fingers to Dave’s ears.
I’ve tried so many times to get him to understand my concerns, and to get him to defer to a child psychologist on some of these “big” decisions, but I’ve not gotten anywhere with it. He’s refused to defer to a psychologist, claiming he knows Bean better than they could after a few meetings, and keeps asserting that his choices will not harm her. All I can do is hope he’s right.
And keep talking to her about things. Both therapists I talked to advised that I should talk to Bean about the fact that Dave will be sharing a bed with Shannon, so I’ve laid that groundwork a little, being totally cheerful and positive about it, and saying things like “I know you’ve only seen Shannon once, but she and Daddy love each other very much and have known each other for a long time.” I haven’t mentioned the whole room-sharing thing, because I keep hoping that Dave will come to his senses and realize this has nothing to do with me not accepting their relationship (seriously) and that it has everything to do with protecting Bean from potential damage.
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Lyrics from “Every Breath You Take” by The Police.
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Had the girls at Cost-a-co (Bean’s pronunciation) yesterday, and Bean found a kid-sized Cadillac Escalade to sit in and ‘drive’. She pointed to the Cadillac emblem and said “That says S-U-V”. She pretended to drive a while longer and then said, I kid you not, “Wow! Such excitement!”
The girl is just too much sometimes.
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Jen, you said it sounded like I was doing well. I guess I am, in spite of some serious annoyances Dave’s thrown my way.
After I told him he could ‘have’ Bean for a few days over Thanksgiving, I found out Shannon was staying with him, too. In his room. Where Bean sleeps. And when I asked that Bean then come back to my place in the evenings, I got a whole truckload of ‘tude and guilt, about how I needed to accept that what happens at his house isn’t my business, that we’ll never be friends, that I am disrespecting him and his family by asking that Bean come back here at night, that I’ll be pissing on her cornflakes by taking her away from all that fun, blah, blah, blah. Oh and, by the way, Shannon and her kids will be there the weekend before (“his” weekend) anyways, so Bean will already be dealing with Shannon in daddy’s bed.
I’m just so blown away by his refusal to err on the side of caution where Bean’s reaction to a change of this magnitude is concerned. She’s met Shannon once. Once. For 30 minutes in a park. The child psychologist I consulted with about this situation told me “This could send a message to your daughter that meeting someone for the 2nd time is long enough to make it okay to sleep in the same room with them.” Awesome, huh?
So now he’s making me out to be the bad guy because I want her to come home at night instead of sleeping in the same room with he and Shannon. Yes, she has her own bed in there, but still … the psychologist also said:
“Co-sleeping while dating brings up many concerns & sends mixed messages to the child. She is who needs to be the person thought about here. This will bring up many questions for her, such as, why is daddy sleeping with another woman, why don’t you sleep with someone, are they married, are they going to get married, etc. She is 3 years old and may not be able to put her anxieties and questions into something we can understand and answer for her right now, which can cause her to internalize this stress.”
I’m just worried as hell about Bean and all this … I think it’s too much, too soon and that the psych is right – she may not be able to put everything into words right now. But if he’s already going to be putting it in her face the weekend before, I don’t know what good bringing her home over Thanksgiving will do. I think I’m going to reserve judgment until she’s back here after the weekend with them and I get a chance to assess how she’s processing everything.
Ugh. I hate this. I wish I felt like he was putting Bean first, ahead of whatever he and Shannon are trying to make this week into. My guess is they’re getting engaged, since his whole family will be there, and there’s this full court press to make everyone fall in line and accept Shannon as his significant other. I get taken to task on them being a couple all. the. time. Because, you know, I has the dumbs and didn’t realize he was involved with someone. I could care less what they do, marriage-wise, as long as Bean (and Miss O, but right now she’s still too young to be affected) is always numero uno here. And right now, it doesn’t seem like she is.
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Thank Bast for the ability to compartmentalize.
I’ve been communicating with a guy on eHarmony, and we’ve made it through all of the guided communication, and now it’s up to him if he wants to go to open communication – it’s still all cloaked in eHarmony secrecy, so I’m not giving out too much personal info, but we’d be flying solo with no multiple choice questions. He seems pretty cool, and our basic parenting philosophies jive, so we’ll see. Hopefully he (and anyone else who makes it to the ‘Huh. maybe I’d like to meet her’ stage) will be amenable to meeting for lunch dates, since going out at night is a total no-go any time in the near future.
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I start National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) in a couple days. I’m supposed to crank out 50,000 words in 30 days. I have a few ideas about what I could write, but haven’t done more than consider them … I should have been outlining or making notes or something. But I’ve always done my best (nonfiction) writing without any real guide, so outlining before I write just doesn’t occur to me. Yikes. It should have occurred to me.
Maybe I’m better suited for NaBloPoMo.
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Lyrics from “Headstrong” by Trapt
