Category: good grief

good grief, marital blissishness, self-discovery, self-image/self-acceptance

My Penance

WFAM

p5262756

I went to get my hair cut (a teeny trim since everyone knows I’m growing it out) and colored. I started getting gray hair when I was thirty years old (I’m approaching thirty-five now). This is something I inherited from my Mom (early gray, that is). Yes, I did get her sense of humor (which is good if you think I’m funny) and her slightly imperfect yet glorious, beaming smile, but …..I also got this. I was able to deny it for a couple years by getting tedious and time-consuming highlights. My denial process had me believing that these highlights “blended away” my gray hair. They did not. A couple years ago I made the decision/commitment to single-process hair color. It is faster, less expensive and I love that I have hair color now that is similar to that which I had when I was four years old (golden and delightful).

If I lived in Hollywood and anyone actually gave a damn about what I looked like, I would have to get my hair colored every three weeks. Since I am a Mom who lives in the real world, I go more on an every six-to-eight week basis. My stylist, Cris (misspelled for her enjoyment), is a talented and lovely young (emphasis on the young for her enjoyment as well, which she really is since she’s still in her twenties) woman who I have found to be a kindred spirit. So, not only does she make my hair fabulous, I get to have a real, enjoyable conversation while I’m there. That’s priceless.

As usual, we spent our time catching each other up on each other’s lives (hers could be a whole other blog, I’m telling you) and it feels great. I tell her about the boys and some of their adorable antics and then dive into the not-so-great dynamic I’m currently experiencing with my own Dad. I thought I handled it all fairly well until later.

I was scheduled to take the boys over to Grandma and Grandpa’s since their Great Uncle and Great Aunt were in town for a short visit. I picked them up from school having relished my break from them during the day and took them home to get them ready for our visit.

You would think that having them with me for only an hour-and-a-half before Grandma and Grandpa’s would be a cake walk. It was for the most part until it was time to leave. Some sort of fracas started over who was going to open the front door and before I knew it, fists were flying and teeth were bared (T.Puzzle is famous for his biting shenanigans). I sent both to time-out and they begin screaming and crying in unison begging me wildly not to leave them (I’ve never done that to be clear), that they really wanted to go to Grandma’s and that they were super sorry. As I loaded up the truck with the diaper bag and I could hear them carrying on inside, I had a fantasy of getting in my truck and simply driving away. However, I fought that instinct and I went back and retrieved them.

We arrived and overall, they did well. There was only one biting incident involving T.Puzzle and his cousin (so sorry to their cousin, Lil’ Superman) which never ceases to mortify me, T.Puzzle’s glasses almost were broken (twice!) and general mayhem ensued (mostly in good fun). The boys spent time with their Great Aunt and Great Uncle, enjoyment was had by all and we were on our way.

Upon returning home, an ugly mood that I didn’t realize had been brewing in the pit of my stomach started to show itself. Today, as I write this, I can see it with more objectivity that it has to do with feeling sad about losing my Mom and being confused about my new, shifted family dynamics. Since I had shared it all with Cris the stylist, it sort of brought it unwillingly to the forefront of my consciousness. Last night, I did not see that.

How did I handle it? Not well. I took it out on Mad Dog and said some things I didn’t mean. It was along the lines of how I wanted him to be more hands-on with the boys (he is very hands on – I think maybe I wish he could be home more is all). I didn’t say it so nicely though. I was more accusatory and I was not open to hearing anything he had to say. I wound up shooting myself in the foot. Normally, on the weekends, Mad Dog will get up with the boys in the morning so I can have a break from the breakfast routine. I got up with the boys instead today. It was my penance.

good grief, mommyhood

The First Day

WFAM

Ouch! Grief can sneak up on you disguised as something else. Today is Full Speed’s first day of pre-kindergarten. I have been anticipating this day with much joy almost since his birth. If you spend five minutes with him you would understand. He is a good boy. He is a good boy who happens to be hyperactive and very opinionated.
JR shoes
I mentioned before the struggle of keeping him entertained cooped up in the house. We have managed to survive four northern winters and one Florida summer indoors without killing each other. No small feat.

I placed Full Speed in part-time daycare when he was a little under two years old. As time went by I gradually increased his time at daycare until this past summer, I increased it to three full days a week. It wasn’t enough. We butted heads like you wouldn’t believe. I couldn’t wait until he started pre-K. He will now go to school five days a week. Hallelujah!!!

I am slightly saddened that this means more separation from him as he is growing and changing. It seems to be nicely balanced with my hope for him that his mind and body will be actively engaged in a way that only a school could provide for him. I think if the teachers manage to hold his attention and contain some of his energy, he is going to excel (sounds like something a mom would say, doesn’t it?). I’m looking forward to a bright future for him filled with endless possibilities.

That’s why when I had a niggling sadness deep in my soul today, I couldn’t figure it out. This is a happy day. I should feel happy. There was much joy to be found in presenting the boys with their new school shoes (T.Puzzle goes part-time and he is moving up to a bigger class today). Full Speed adored his Transformer shoes and T.Puzzle became instantly attached to his Spiderman shoes. Full Speed said that when they got home from school we would have a shoe party. “What’s a shoe party?” I asked. “It’s when you wear your shoes, dance to music and wear sunglasses,” he replied. Sounds fantastic, it’s a date, Full Speed!

Underneath the excitement was the realization that I wasn’t sharing this special day with my Mom. I won’t ever share another milestone with her. She isn’t there for me to call and say, “I was so proud of Full Speed, today. He did great at drop-off.” She won’t see the myriad of pictures I took or hear the new stories of Full Speed’s pre-K adventures which I’m sure will be many.
JR and Keaton shoes

This is the first day of school. This is the first day of school my Mom isn’t sharing with me. And that just plain sucks.

good grief

The Dog and the Dinosaur

WFAM

I had a phone conversation with my Dad last night. I don’t want to air all our dirty laundry but I will say that the conversation was not good. You throw the rawness of losing my Mom on top of it and it was headed for calamity right from the get-go.

After I abruptly and not very graciously ended the phone call, I headed out to our lanai to take a deep breath and work through how upset I felt. Mad Dog came out and tried to console me. He seemed a little scared though, like I might turn the anger roiling inside me onto him. He’s right you know. I do that sometimes. Mad Dog is a much safer person to let loose my family dysfunction on. I know that he is stuck with me for life (by his own choosing so don’t feel too sorry for him) and therefore I sometimes don’t treat him as nicely as I should.

The hesitant counseling session with Mad Dog was helping me but only slightly. Full Speed came out to see why his Mommy was so upset. He said, “I know what will make you feel better!” As if it was so obvious. As if he has all the answers in the world locked away in that four year old brain of his. He left and returned with his plastic dinosaur that I purchased at Wal-Mart for him the previous day and his beloved doggie blanket that he has had since infancy and dearly loves.

He promptly hands them over to me and says, “Here you go; now you will feel all better.” And not surprisingly, I did. I really, really did. Thank you Full Speed, I love you!
p8223020

good grief, mommyhood

Mom’s the Word

WFAM

p8132940So, I finished up my ridiculous early morning which included a pushy, teenage salesgirl from Estonia (where the hell is Estonia anyway?) who was hawking children’s books, Full Speed informing the pushy salesgirl that he didn’t like books and especially hated the sticker books she was trying to sell and T.Puzzle being highly emotional because I wouldn’t let him in the bathroom with me (I know, it’s a crazy thought that a Mom could have privacy). This was all before eight o’clock.

I’m seated at the computer attempting to complete my post. T.Puzzle is climbing all over me and Full Speed is telling me that I need to read him a Transformers book immediately. I told them they have to play for a while because I need to “work on the computer.” They have since moved out to the lanai and I can hear T.Puzzle crying already. If they can get through the next five minutes without serious injury, either physical or emotional, they may eventually agree upon a shared game or activity and give me twenty minutes of peace. Otherwise, I will have to break my credo of no TV before we leave for our morning activity and put on Sesame Street. There is nothing “street” about it. That’s why I love it. It is extremely non-aggressive and educational. It does not increase the level of testosterone in my home and they learn the letter of the day. Since Full Speed is approaching five, he would much prefer Transformers or The Fast and the Furious (thanks to Mad Dog’s encouragement) so I don’t know how much longer I can use the Sesame Street option. I would choose it until they are in college if I could get away with it.

So far I’ve told Full Speed seven times to “go play!” He is a persistent little guy. He’s back already showing me a car that he is convinced he got for his birthday last year. It isn’t but it’s easier to play along. “Gee, love that car you got for your birthday last year, now, GO PLAY!”

Even though there are challenges to completing a blog post every day, I’m loving it. If I had ten small children climbing all over my lap, I would find a way to type out my thoughts. I noticed that I had some views yesterday of one of my posts. It was exciting but I’m pretty certain it was all people I know who are being polite. Thank you and thank you.

My Aunt Perky had visited the site and said she was enjoying my blog so far and to keep up the good work. Ironically, this made me so, so sad. She was giving me the feedback that only a Mom would give. I’m glad to have an aunt that can step in to the place that my Mom used to have in my life, but it doesn’t make me miss my Mom any less. I’m guessing my Mom would have loved that I’m doing this. Unfortunately that’s all it is, just a guess.

FYI, T.Puzzle and Full Speed are playing cars at the kitchen table now, albeit a violent, crashing car game. They CAN entertain themselves, may wonders never cease.

good grief

sad…today

WFAM

I’m sad. Some days I feel happy, some days I feel confident and that anything is possible (like yesterday when I started my blog), and some days I am downright moody. My moods change like the wind. I’m all four seasons in one day. Usually, when a sad cloud blocks my sun, it takes a little bit of work on my part to find my way again. Then the cycle starts anew.

My Mom died in March. She was 67 years old. Our relationship was not without complications as so many mother/daughter relationships are. I miss her every day even if we didn’t always see eye to eye.

Since the loss of my Mom I have decided to grow my hair out. I’ve had the quintessential angled bob that everyone seems to have had in the past 2-3 years. I’m about the same age as Posh Spice, who claims to have started that trendy, angled cut, and my husband is a soccer player nicknamed Mad Dog (okay, so he played it in high school but he was really, really good or so I’m told). Posh is a little more attractive, well, maybe, a lot more attractive and a tad more financially sound. Her husband has also been slightly more successful at making soccer his lifetime career than my husband. That’s not my point. It’s the haircut.

For the past two years that was the haircut my Mom saw me have. She had seen me give birth to my second son (T.Puzzle) and attempt to juggle my new baby, older son (Full Speed), a dog, a marriage and a move. I have come to identify with the haircut. I was going to be a sassy short-haired girl indefinitely. It fits me like a glove.

Then my Mom died, my world stopped and I decided to grow my hair out.

My hair is definitely longer now. I can put it in a tiny, desperate pony tail. The longer my hair grows, the farther I am from the point at which my Mom last knew me. That is making me sad….today.