Tag Archives: parenting

And the award for the most awkward interaction with a man…

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I haven’t dated anyone for 18 years. (I even had to check the math on that – really, that long?) The internet was in its infancy – there wasn’t a Facebook or Twitter or Instagram or online dating. I was barely of legal drinking age. I didn’t think I’d ever get married, and I wasn’t sure that I’d ever have kids.

Mike and I started dating in college, and until August 2011, we didn’t have any breaks or time away from one another. It was just us, together, through thick and thin, for better or worse, through sickness but not alcoholism…

Now my kids are my first priorities. I’m not a college student, but I teach them. I’ve grown a lot. I’ve changed a lot. I’ve been through a lot.

So fast forward to yesterday. I must have been exuding some sort of crazy-ass pheromones. First, the Starbucks dude gave me a free pastry (he didn’t give anything away to the three women who were in front of me in line) and a wink and up-sized my latte.

And then (I think) I was (sort of) asked out.

Background: I’ve never been good at flirting or knowing when a man was interested in me. Before Mike, I only dated a handful of guys. I was a late bloomer for sure, not having my first boyfriend or first kiss until my senior year of high school.

Ethan and I attended mass on Sunday morning. During communion, I noticed K, a good-looking and very recently divorced dad, walking back to his seat a few aisles away.

(Sidenotes: his son is E’s “arch enemy” and his daughter is one of Ethan’s crushes. I’ve talked to K on occasion – wouldn’t say I know him well, but I have caught him looking at me at school meetings and other events. I brushed it off as coincidence or my crazy imagination. One last note: the mom-friends I went out with last weekend, three of the four of them said separately that K and I should date. I laughed it off, but the comment stuck with me.)

So when mass ended yesterday, I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, that K was looking in my direction. I concentrated on Ethan and getting him down the aisle so we could get his stuff for his extracurricular meeting post-church. But then I noticed K alter his gait when he got close to our aisle. It was like he was stalling, waiting.

“Hey,” he said casually, raising his hand and smiling. He gently tossed Ethan’s hair and asked him about his weekend.

We continued with various pleasantries and small talk – the weather, his new condo, our kids – through the church and into the lobby.

“I’m starving. My stomach was growling all throughout mass,” he said with a laugh. “Thinking about going and grabbing some lunch somewhere…”

And that’s when I turned into a ridiculously awkward idiot. I think.

Was he kind of hinting at going to lunch? Was he looking for a lunch companion? Or was it just a continuation of the small talk? If it wasn’t for K adjusting his walking speed to “meet” us at the end of our aisle, I probably would have not paid attention to the comment, but…

I panicked. Said something like “yeah,” steered Ethan into a side hallway, then ducked into the women’s bathroom. I’m super smooth.

I either lost the chance to go to lunch with K and get to know him better OR acted like a complete buffoon by reading too much into nothing.

Regardless, I really need to work on my social skills with men. Geez.

Light at the end of the funk

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I’ve spent the last month or so in a sort of funk. Not really full-fledged depressed (I don’t think). Not really sad. Just sort of…detached. The semester has been eh (even though I had a great first semester evaluation). Family life has been eh (even though we’re turning corners on both Ethan and Lauren’s needs). Friends have been ignored. (Friends, I am so sorry for ignoring emails, FB messages, phone calls, etc. I love you all and appreciate you, really I do!) Anything extra in life has been nonexistent. And I’m kind of over feeling this way…starting now.

So, a few updates to hopefully kick-start me into more regular posts again. (Goodness, I feel so much better venting here, just getting stuff OUT, but I haven’t even felt like doing that lately.)

Ethan: new therapist is great. She’s actually asking about Mike and how E feels about his dad’s death and alcoholism. We’re kind of in a “things are going to get worse before they get better” kind of pattern, but improvements are starting to come. We’ve started a new discipline system at school, which has made a huge impact. In fact, several teachers stopped me on Friday while I was volunteering to tell me how well he’s doing since the new system has been in place.

Lauren: she’s being evaluated for the next phase of her speech therapy, and words and phrases are coming along more clearly every day. But, hot diggity, she’s hit the terrible twos in a BIG way. She’s also incredibly independent, to the point where it’s easy to forget she’s only two. She’s completely potty trained, picks out her own clothes and gets dressed on her own, puts herself down for bedtime (and she’ll go up to her room willingly for nap time, but actually sleeping during the afternoon is iffy), gets her own snacks.

Marathon: yeah, not happening. Combination of weather (wow, it snows here!) and my blah feelings, I just haven’t been training in any way, shape or form.

Loose ends with old job: Negotiated the amount owed to erase the relocation debt. It was still a HUGE amount, more than I’ve ever written a check for, but it’s done. Free-and-clear from old job.

I know from the online widow forums that setbacks like what I’ve been going through are common. I just need to force myself out of it. I’ve done it before, I can do it again. I went out with friends last weekend (and had a great time) and I have plans next weekend (OMG do I have plans! LOL! More to come on that…) I’ve emailed a few friends from old job about getting together for dinner. I just need to get out, focus on LIFE, and recharge so I can be a mom. Ethan and Lauren deserve that.

Musical Flashback: Parents Just Don’t Understand

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Driving to pick up Ethan tonight, DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince’s “Parents Just Don’t Understand” came on the radio.

Instantly transported back in time, before I knew about the drinking and when things were okay between us. We were on long drive back to St. Louis after a weekend trip to visit family. I was driving, Mike in the passenger seat. I remember it was quiet in the car so Ethan must have been sleeping. (We hadn’t even dreamed of Lauren yet.)

This song came on and we both started singing along. Seat-dancing. Laughing. Shrugging our shoulders while belting out the chorus, “Take it from me, parents just don’t understand…”

As the song was coming to an end, Mike turned to me, smile gone from his face. A look of seriousness. “Shit,” he said. “WE are the parents now. Do we really not understand? ‘Cause I’d be pissed if Ethan took my cool car. And he’s going to wear whatever we buy for him – cool clothes or not!”

“Yep,” I said. “You just don’t understand…”

And then we laughed and laughed and laughed.

Mom knows best

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After last night’s session with Ethan’s new therapist (D), I feel even more sure that Ethan’s problems in school are very heavily grief-based.

She started by asking really basic questions to get him more comfortable. (Where do you go to school? What grade are you in? What’s your favorite school subject? What do you like to do for fun?)

Then she moved to word association. Mom, she said.

“Pretty good,” Ethan said. “Nice, but I get mad when she won’t let me play my 3DS.”

D looked at me. I could see her smile through her eyes. Grandma, she said next.

“Good,” said Ethan.

Dad.

Ethan’s body tensed. He covered his face with his hands. He started to get very fidgety. His fists balled up. He arched his back.

“It’s okay,” D said. “How do you feel about your dad?”

“I don’t have a dad,” Ethan said.

“Yes you do,” D said. “He’s just not here with you. How do you feel about your dad?”

Ethan started punching the ball he was holding. “Mad,” he said. “I told him to stop drinking beer. I threw some of his beer away once. I got in really bad trouble.”

“What happened?” D asked softly.

Ethan continued hitting the ball. He turned his back to us and punched at the ball.

“Daddy yelled – LOUD. Then I got send to my room. He should have stopped drinking.”

“It’s okay to punch that ball,” D said. Ethan continued his physical outburst for another minute or so.

D looked at me and whispered,” Did you see those physical changes? There’s a lot going on there.”

I nodded.

The rest of the session went well. It was hard for Ethan to focus after talking about his dad. The three of us played a game involving placing stones on Ethan’s body to encourage him to lay still. Then we played a board game called Stop, Relax & Think, which got him opening up a bit about his feelings and start thinking through possible ways to relax and deal with stressful situations or things that make him angry.

At one point in the Stop, Relax & Think game, I had to sing a song until D told me to stop. Ethan apparently was not amused with my singing and told me to stop a few times. I kept going until D told me to quit, per the rules. D turned to Ethan and explained that it was never the job of the child to tell his parent to “stop.” Instead it is the job of the parent to correct the child. I liked D even more after that.

We go back to D in a week. She’s going to do good things with Ethan.

I’m relieved.

30 hours

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Not every family is created equal. And I’m pissed. Warning: ranting follows.

I received an email today from Ethan’s school. It was a mass email to all the parents about how families aren’t volunteering as they should. The email said that every family needed to commit to a minimum of 30 volunteer hours in a school year.

That’s fine. Doesn’t seem outrageous, given that this time is spread from September through June. I already volunteer in a variety of ways – I copy papers for the teacher twice a month; I’ve made (or purchased) treats for the class for various activities; I participated in making pies for the big fundraiser.

About making those pies…

For that fundraiser, every family was asked to commit to three three-hour shifts from Friday morning through Saturday night. I volunteered for one three-hour shift. As the pie fundraiser was drawing closer, I listened as the moms talked about splitting the volunteer time between themselves and their husbands. I overheard divorced parents talking about dividing their time to meet the obligation.

My thought was, “Fuck it. I don’t have someone to split my time with so one shift is all they get from me.”

And that was fine.

But now, being asked – required? – to commit to 30 volunteer hours in a school year makes me angry. I can’t split that time with anyone. It’s me. All me. Thirty hours from ME. There isn’t a significant other to offset that commitment.

That means 30 hours taken away from my kids, and that seems pretty contrary to how a parochial school should operate.

And if I don’t do my 30 hours of volunteer work – as tracked by some fancy new tracking website? Apparently, there’s a “buy out” option that I can use to PAY my way out of the obligation. (Because paying tuition and buying uniforms every three months because of Ethan’s growth spurts and all the other nickel-and-dime charges through the year isn’t enough…)

I understand volunteering. I get the need for involved parents – hell, I am a pretty involved parent. But to be told how much I have to do – and to have the obligation the same for ALL families, regardless of their structure or resources – is bullshit.

I don’t often play the widow card, but the school might be getting a smack down from me in the next few days as “volunteering details” and tracking software are unveiled.

Because I have time for this…