Tag Archives: parenting

Moving out? An update

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My mom might have found a condo. Yes, she’s said (several times!) that she needs to move out, but this time, I think we’re close.

I was actually the one who found the listing. It’s been months since I’ve even looked to see what’s out there, but something told me last week to check. There it was: condo, about a mile from my house, two bedroom, 2.5 bath, built in 2005, pretty spacious, large rooms, lots of storage. But the best part was the price – it had just dropped significantly. In fact, in the two months it had been on the market, there were three price drops, and now it’s priced WAY under other condos in the neighborhood.

I showed my mom the photos and she loved it. She took down the contact information and walked outside to call the realtor within the hour.

On Tuesday, she went to see it. She was giggly about it when we talked. “It’s everything I want!” she said. (She was so excited about it that she forgot a dentist appointment that afternoon because she couldn’t stop thinking about the house.) The condo is a foreclosure and the bank s pretty desperate to get it off the books.

She’s waiting to hear back on her preapproval.

I have mixed feelings about her moving out. On one hand, having your MOM wait up for you when you get home from a date (and you’re almost 40 years old) is a little weird, and uncomfortable, and awkward. Having your mom sit across the room from you when you’re texting with a man (and smiling foolishly) is also weird, and uncomfortable, and awkward. Having to find a quiet place to have a conversation with a man so that your mom isn’t listening – or commentating – is weird, and uncomfortable, and awkward. Not being able to watch the TV shows you want or listen to the music you want or arrange the pantry in a way that makes sense – all arguments for her moving out.

But it has been ridiculously awesome to have her with us. As I’ve said before, she helps with the kids, gets them breakfast, picks E up from school on nights I’m running late, makes dinner, does the kids’ laundry, mows the yard, picks up dog poop. But when she’s doing all this, I’m not. Admittedly, I’m fortunate to have her support, and God knows I’ve needed her over the last few years. But I’ve never had to MANAGE this “new” life on my own. Well, not longer than a weekend.

She’ll only be a mile away. It’s walkable or bikeable. She’ll be super close. I’ll miss her, but it’s really time that I figure this all out on my own – as long as she’ll still pick up after the dog. I’m not kidding…

Side note: Hearing us talk about her possible move has been really tough on Ethan. He started crying on the way to grief group Tuesday night, asking if grandma will still sew on his taekwondo patches or help with homework. I drove him by the condo to show how close she’ll be, but he’s still pretty upset by her possibly moving out. I have no idea how Lauren will react since my mom has lived with us since she was just a few months old… We’ll all have to find a new normal, but in the long run, it’ll be good for all of us – I think.

Scholarship

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I knew that Mike’s friends started a memorial scholarship at his former high school in his name. The $500/year scholarship will be awarded each year to a student interested in the theatre. (Mike was in several plays in high school, and continued acting in college on scholarship.)

A year ago, one of Mike’s friends called me to get my reaction to establishing the scholarship as part of the 20th class reunion. “Sounds fine,” I said. Since then, another friend sent me an announcement of the scholarship from the high school newsletter. I put the announcement away with other memorabilia from Mike’s life for Ethan and Lauren.

But today on Facebook, several of Mike’s friends from high school have posted/reposted a note about the scholarship and how it was established in his name by the school – and his parents – with a solicitation for donations to the fund.

WTF?

I’ve mentioned before that my kids aren’t in need of anything. I’m very fortunate that Mike and I had the foresight to have ample assets for the kids. But, come on… his parents haven’t contacted the kids in any meaningful way in more than a year.

I’m pissed that they’re going to give money, attention, and who knows what else, to a scholarship to strangers instead of thinking about their grandkids. Their ONLY grandkids.

(Again, my kids don’t NEED anything, but to get a random package from Grandma and Grandpa with some baseball cards or a princess book – or to know that there were contributions to a college fund for them – would go a LONG way to making my kids feel loved by those assholes.)

Thoughts on a first date (no, I haven’t gone OUT yet with anyone)

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(First, welcome to the person who found this blog by searching for “hairy legs depressed.” I hope I helped, I think… You’ve probably noticed I talk about other things, too. Hope you’re okay with that.)

Last night in grief group, the subject of dating came up. I giggled and told the group about signing up with an online dating service. The entire group was soon laughing (the kind of laughing that makes your eyes water), as I told a few of the stories of my experience so far. We were so loud that one of the counselors came down from the kids’ area to ask if we were okay. It was a good session last night.

One of the women in group asked what I wanted in a first date with someone. My response:

I want to go to a restaurant that doesn’t have a separate, paper kids menu with “fun” activities. I don’t want to blow on someone’s food to cool it down or take someone to the potty 15 times during dinner (all false alarms). I want to eat when my meal is hot – actually, I’d settle for slightly above room temperature. I want to not play tic-tac-toe on a napkin using crayons or crawl around on the floor looking for a lost red crayon – in fact, a crayon-free place would be preferred. I would like to not have a stack of extra napkins on the table “just in case.” I don’t want to tell someone to sit down and be quiet more than once. I don’t want someone to freak out because their hamburger is cut in half or their mandarin oranges are touching their French fries. I want to eat without someone at the table putting ketchup on something ketchup shouldn’t be on, like fish or chicken or fruit or broccoli. I want to have dinner with someone who can hold his own cup without spilling the contents on himself or others. I’d like to have a conversation – a nice, long conversation about anything and everything without hearing “I’m bored” or “can we go now?” or “when will she be DONE with her dinner?” I want to be a grownup, even for just an hour or two.

That’s not asking too much, is it?

(Relatedly, after a major overall to my profile this week, I’ve gotten a lot of new responses. Most are garbage, but a few are promising. Conversation with one potential have been so awesome that we decided to take our conversations to regular email instead of through the service. At least I know his full name now. He’s been Googled. And I have some questions for him…)

His hero

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From Ethan’s school work today:

Ethan's Hero

If I could choose a special person to honor, I would choose my mom. This person is my hero. I would choose this person because she takes care of me. We could honor this hero by being good at home.

At first, I thought all the kids in the class probably wrote about their mom or dad being their heroes, but after talking to a few of the moms, it seems Ethan was the only one in the class. Other kids wrote about Abe Lincoln, Martin Luther King Jr., and George Washington.

My baby boy selected me as his hero. And it feels amazing. REALLY amazing.

Darkness

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It comes when you least expect it. You thought you were doing fine, maybe even doing well. But then, this darkness – a black hole – appears out of nowhere, right in the middle of your path. You’re drawn to it. It just seems so…right. Peaceful even. Calm maybe. It draws you closer and closer and closer. You want to go there, but at the same time…

You’ve been there before, in its depths. You know what’s in that darkness. It’s misleading – there’s no peace or calm. There’s just… nothingness. When you’re in the darkness, you don’t even want to move. Lifting an arm or leg is almost impossible, no matter how hard you will your limb to JUST MOVE, DAMMIT! You’re eyelids are heavy. Your ass feels weighted to the seat – you don’t want to get up for anyone or anything. You hear the voices of your loved ones, but you just don’t care. You hate being in the dark. You hate what the darkness does to you.

I know there’s complete nothingness in the darkness. I know going there will not be pleasant, and I’ll hate every second of being in its grasp. I’m trying to stay out. I’m trying to ignore it. I’m trying to stay in the light.