Welcome to CAB’s Place!

I spent the entire morning in the pediatrician’s office Thursday morning.  

My youngest daughter took her turn first.  She’s been demonstrating some behavior lately that is not her typical norm.  It’d be pretty difficult to describe unless you really knew her.  Her teacher this year is a good friend of mine and not prone to an alarmist approach to life so when she shared some concerns about things my daughter was saying and how she seems to be handling failures or mistakes, I thought it might be a good time to seek out a decent children’s counselor, if for no other reason than to give her an opportunity to unload and me the opportunity to get some help in  dealing more effectively with my child.  In order to get in to see a child psych, I need doctor’s referral.  Little did I know, getting said referral is going to be easier said than done. 

My daughter was the first appointment of the day.  By the time the doc finished with her, he was running behind and had no time to meet with me so I had to reschedule a “Mom only” appointment with him.  Hmmmm.  Not going to comment about what I think about that and the added cost, even if it is only a co-pay.

Shortly before my son’s appointment, my son’s father walked in.  Ugh.  I cannot stand the man.  Of course, everything with him is a big act.  He’s been acting a certain way so long he thinks it is who he is, but it rings hollow when his pushy, demanding, patronizing and abrasive self seeps out. Which it does more and more often I’m noting.  Which it did in particular at this appointment.  I don’t think the nurses at that office like him at all.

Anyway…

The blood tests showed that my son’s thyroid is functioning fine, but one of the growth hormone indicator levels is really low.  So…since he has flatlined in his growth in the last year and since he is the oldest student in his class by nearly a year (due to his birthday falling on Sept. 1st we kept him out of kindergarten a year) but he is still the very smallest in his class.  Given that his father is 6′ 3″ and his mother is 5′ 6″ and his two older sisters are pushing 5′ 9″ and 5′ 10″, the genetics would not logically indicate that he would be a small and petite child. 

The doctor is referring us to some growth hormone specialist out of the noted children’s hospital up north in the big city.  She only comes to our area once every three months, so if she has an opening the next time she’s down then I guess we see her then.  Otherwise, a trip up North negotiating the medical world of a busy city and unfamilar hospitals will be in order.  So I guess the doctor is going to be setting that up for us as well.  In the meantime, an x-ray of my son’s wrists was necessary, so after spending all morning in the doctor’s office with two kids, who by then were getting hungry, I had to go over to the Imaging Center and wait a bit longer to get an x-ray of my 13-year-old’s wrist so we could give it to the growth hormone specialist when we see her in three months…or whenever it will be.

This could be an interesting Spring/Summer.

Today is the day I take my two youngest children to the doctor. 

These are not routine “well baby” checks either.

My son’s blood tests turned up something that is enough of a concern that the doctor wants to meet with us.

I’m trying to get my daughter in to a really good children’s counselor and I have to jump through the hoops on that one by getting her pediatrician’s referral.

I will be there all morning from 8:30 till who knows when….my son’s appointment is at 10. 

I’m tired, I didn’t sleep well last night and I need to be up for this, if only to help present a courageous front to the kids. 

I wonder how it will go.

Time to get moving. Got to go get my game face on.

You know, life absolutely cracks me up sometimes. 

If I could share with you all the little bizarre weird things that have occurred in my life lately that add up to complete and total “Twighlight Zone Factor” it would really be some great bathroom reading for you.

And great therapy for me…so here goes.

• Okay, so one of the hardest things about leaving eX # 1 was his astuteness with finances (it helps to have the degree I suppose).  To this day I find a man who is savvy….or, at least responsible…with the financial deal an incredible turn on, but whatever. I’m a geeky freak.   When I left X number 1, I left wondering mostly about how the taxes would turn out.  He always did them for us, saved us money that way and I never ended up with a tax bill.  I’m a complete dolt in the tax realm so I really appreciated that contribution to our relationship.  Too bad he didn’t have a more financially mature person to work with…at the time.  Anyway, within two years of being married to X number 2, I was about$6K into the government for taxes.  Long story, email me if you want the details…it’s better than Sex In The City, believe me.  Anyway, after living my entire adult life without owing taxes, it didn’t go over well to owe then.   That hurdle was crossed because astute business woman that I am (gag, sputter, cough, choke) I bought the house I am now living in.  Yes, this house purchased while I was married to X #2, without his assistance, approval or input, and without him ever being on the loan or the title has so saved my bacon when the freaking tax chips were down. This year, due to my own ignorance and due to changes in my children’s ages, my income and deductions/withholdings, I was worried that I might actually owe money.  Owing anything at this time for me is not a good thing and something I avoid like the plague. Monday, I met with my tax person.  Okay, I know I could probably just upload the software and do it myself, but like I don’t have anything else on my plate these days.  I actually pay a tax consultant to make sure I’ve crossed all the t’s and dotted all the i’s. I’m getting money back, not a lot, but I won’t owe.  This is VERY GOOD NEWS. 
•  In the last week, I’ve had two men from the past contact me…you know…those date /relationsips (if that is what you could call them) that didn’t quite work out and you’re not sure why.  Out of the blue, not one, but two of those contacted me.  This is so not a feather in my cap kind of thing, because I’ve moved on, but it does add to the weird factor.
• The Beau continues to contact me and keep in touch.  I have to admit, I’m not sure I understand it, but I like it, because I really like the Beau, but maybe I should move on?
• The I.J. continues to want to see me and be with me.  I am definitely Plan A where he is concerned, no question about it.  He also plays the inuendo pretty well and that works for me…but I’m still waffling there. Not sure there’s the intensity in humor, discussion, life that I really need.  That’ s my issue, not his…he’s totally a great guy.
• The I.J. is an ex-cop…we’ve recently entered into some banter that is a play on good cop/bad cop only it is more like big cop/small cop.  Put that into your most adult thinking and I’m sure you know where we’re going with that.  Hysterical.  But hope they aren’t sensoring the work email.  Cracks me up.
• Mykids are at one minute hating me the next thinking I am absolutely the coolest mom that ever walked the planet.  What they don’t know is that I’ve always been the coolest mom that ever walked the planet.  I mean, they could do so much worse. Ha, they can’t deny it, they steal my clothes and wear them…so there.
• I woke up last night at 2:15 in the morning.  Can’t figure it out.  Wide awake.  Not really stressed.  Happy about my existence, my present, my future…it could be so much worse…but yet, I was awake and wide awake.  Almost got up and blogged about it.  Instead, took some Valerian Root and crashed. That worked.  But I dragged through the morning today.  WTH, tomorrow is Wednesday.
• Took my daughter into a local talent scout agency to see about getting her some experience in acting on film, not just stage…and they ended up telling me that they could probably book me…go figure.  Yikes, how must that make her feel?  Yuk.  Hey, I can sell Mr. Clean with the best of them but that’s not why we went in there…freaks!
• Someone asked me to build a website for them and they offered to pay….now I’m busting up laughing.
• The folks that guarantee my student loan called me tonight. I’m working on getting a forebearance due to hardship (damn, I hate that but I have to do it).  It’s crazy….but somehow I qualify for a “Teacher Loan Forgiveness” and they are sending me the paperwork.  Will miracles never cease?  Talk about being grateful…but that definitely is over the top in the Twilight Zone Factor there. I mean really.
• Sometime,next week I am actually going to head north to a larger city (Duck capital of the world)  for  a two day conference.  I will be able to escape this craziness and be surrounded by adults the entire time.  I can freaking hardly wait!
• I will miss my kids so much I may not even be able to enjoy my adult time.  What kind of cruel joke is that????

Okay, enough for now.  My life is cracking me up right now. 

What’s cracking you up?

I once heard someone say that getting married is like gluing two pieces of sandpaper together and that getting divorced is like trying to separate them after the glue dried.

Personally, this has been my experience.  Well, at least it was at first. 

At first, it was really difficult to separate “my life” and “his life”.  Well, okay, it wasn’t so tough for me because that’s one area the boundaries don’t really blur for me.  My parenting time is my parenting time and your is yours.  My first eX has a difficult time with boundaries.  I think, personally, this comes from his Christianity and the mistaken idea that many Christians have that it is not okay to say “No”.  If they say no, somehow they feel they are being rude, uncaring, ungiving, insensitive, etc.

I have no such hang up.  It got me in trouble in the church.

 I figured that if I didn’t take care of me, I was useless and unable to give to anyone else.  So…I took care of me. 

An example:  When my son was about two and a half and I had just started back to work as a teacher, I asked to take a sabbatical from ministry for a year to deal with the adjustments of going back to work and dealing with three children.  Seriously, I just didn’t see the point of having my children in daycare all day only to farm them out to babysitters in the evening.  In addition, Sunday is a busy day for those in leadership and this took me further away from my children.  Didn’t make sense to me to be spending all my time doing for others when I was unable to do for my own  children. After all, my philosophy is that Christianity should begin in the home.   So, I nicely requested the break.  (Okay, I know that sounds weird, but I really got static for not working in the nursery and doing stuff.  As someone in leadership they were afraid my example would discourage others from serving in ministry. Gag me.  I went through the appropriate channels, but then when they did not acknowledge my request, I simply said, “no”.  Nicely, sweetly, but very firmly, “No.”)

That little episode, disrupted the church and ended the marriage.  For the umpteenth millionth time, my (now eX) husband did not advocate for me, but took sides against me, when I most needed someone to come to my rescue.

I’m so sick and tired of Prince Charming expecting the Princess to do his job.

Anyway, back to the sandpaper.  It was easy for me to see where the paper should be torn to separate with  the least amount of damage.  Not so for the eX.   EX #1 still calls during the dinner hour, shows up unannounced, and walks in and takes over…or tries.

EX #2 just simply took the other route and disappeared altogether.  He only shows up to pick up his daughter and doesn’t even walk her up to the door to drop her off, but that’s as I like it.  The more minimal the contact the better. 

Even so, getting to this place hasn’t been easy and especially when sharing custody of my oldest three children.  It has felt a lot like ripping apart glued sandpaper. It’s easier now, but until the kids are completely grown and making their own decisions, I suspect it’s going to feel like ripping sandpaper at times but only because the kids are involved.

Anyone else out there have a take on this?

It is 8:37 and I am just now getting home for the evening.

When I signed on as parent over 18 years ago, I had no idea what I was getting myself into, nor did I listen when wise people tried to warn me. 

But my life right now is crazy, sort of.  Tonight I got home for the night and it was after 8:30.

This is not good for an 8-year-old who should be in bed…bathed…in bed…stories read to her and prayers said by her mum, not an older sibling…by 8:30 at the very latest.  I feel like a crap mother.  I can’t give her the time and attention she needs.  I can’t give any of them the time and the attention they need because they all exclude each other from the picture.  There are four of them and only one of me.  Sad but true.

Tomorrow night I have two children, both who have performances at 6:30pm.  Tell me, how is that going to happen?  I haven’t yet learned how to split myself in two quite like that.  If I did know how, I’d be gloriously rich right now.

I tell my son, who’s been on the PlayStation for double the alotted time to get off and he yells  at me.  Tonight was mild.  In the past he’s gone so far as to call me a “friggin’ douchebag”.  This is currently his favorite insult of choice. He uses it against his younger sister and his older sister and against his mother.  He did not learn this in my home or his father’s home.  He may have learned it from  “ex-stepsiblings” or from school.  He does not use these words  in the presence of  his father.  He uses them here and ends up as my slave for the evening.  He doesn’t much like that either.

He is afraid of his father.

He knows he’ll get blown to bits by his father both emotionally and physically if he even breathes a word of that in the presence of his father.

And, yet, really, while his dad is large and intimidating and scary at times, his dad is not what I would call a physically abusive man where his children are concerned. 

My son also knows, that I was the whipping child in my home of origin.

Because of my childhood, I do not whip.  I simply cannot. So my son knows he can say what he wants but he will not be beaten for it…he will however, earn some toilet cleaning duty and some yard duty.  He doesn’t much like that.

The whipping created so much fear and insecurity in me as a young person that I am only now, at the ripe old age of 40-something able to talk comfortably with those I call “boss”.  In fact, finally, I can talk with just about anyone and if they don’t like it I can now shine it on, but I haven’t always been this way.  I admire those 20-somethings who are fearless, it seems.  Being the whipping child created such problems for me that for a good year after I graduated from college I was so terrified and fearful that I couldn’t even muster up the courage to endure a job interview.  I mean, if I was going to be beaten for arriving home just 5 minutes later than dusk from my bike ride as a 10-year-old, what would happen if I failed on this one?

Is everyone this fearful upon venturing out into the big wide world?  I think not.  I think only those who dealt with severely harsh treatment and who, instead of becoming angry and hostile, chose fearful and insecure instead, experience this kind of paralyzing fear.

Is it any wonder that I jumped at the securest, safest relationship I could find, got married too soon to the wrong person?  And I did this twice?  I was afraid of life.  I was afraid to venture out on my own.  I was simply afraid…far, far too afraid.  All my worst decisions in life were made because I was afraid.

Because every time I made a mis-step, I was beaten for it.  I lived most of my childhood with welts from the willow bush out in the backyard or bruises from the back of someone’s hand.  (Okay, now as an adult knowing the smart mouth that I have and must have had at that time, I can certainly understand an adult’s frustration, but this doesn’t exuse them for lack of control.  After all, they are the adult here…right?)

I grew up thinking that I must be perfect or else there would be severe consequences to pay…becuse there usually were.

It took me a lot of time, and some real big failures to learn, that the consequences are never as scary as you might think and that the worst sort of pain is not from the consequences, but from the consequences of denying who you really are.  The consequences of pretending to be something, someone you are not are far greater and more lasting than the pain any physical “consequence” could instill.

I’ve also learned that the very worst pain in the world is really not the loss of a loved one, though that pain does rip deeply into one’s soul.  But the pain of regretting is worse than any pain I’ve yet to experience.  Because regret looks back and wishes for a do-over.  In life, there are no do-overs. You simply can’t rewind the clock.

So…here I sit in my mid-40’s wishing like hell I had a do over.

The first thing I’d do is go to a different college.

The next thing I’d do is marry the right person the first time through or go it alone (it is kinda fun to not have to fight with someone over whether or not they pick up after themselves and I do so like having the bathroom ALL to myself).

The third thing I’d do is have fewer kids.

I know that sounds heinous, but, seriously after tonight, I’d have about four less kids.

I’d travel the world, keep all my money to myself instead of spending it on urchins who could really give a rat’s ass how much it cost me and what I’m having to do without so they can benefit. 

Okay, I know I wouldn’t really throw any of them back, but c’mon, why wake me from my reverie.  It was such a wonderful dream there for a moment.

Sigh.

Parenting simply sucks sometimes.

Sorry this ins’t a happy clappy post about how fulfilled I am as a mother but quite frankly, I’m just not feelin’ the love tonight and I needed to offgas all the crap. 

My mother was so right about teenagers: Bury em in a hole in the backyard.  Dig ‘em up when they’re 25.

Seriously, I could so go for that right  now.  Even though my kids are, for the most part, really great kids.  I mean, how many of you have kids who would actually come up to you and ask what a vibrator is?  (Yikes, too bad I had to admit I didn’t know.)

But not to despair, you know why?……

“This too shall pass.”  

I can hardly wait!!!!

This week I am taking two of my children to the doctor.

My youngest has been acting up lately.  She’s much more fidgety, less responsive to instruction and less compliant and easily annoyed.  This would not indicate anything more than a needed increase in the amount of sleep she gets each night, except that I think it is deeper than that.

Sometimes she just starts crying for no apparent reason.

She’s kind of had a tough little life so far thanks to her parents really screwing it up royally. When her dad and I were together, she lived a the youngest in a family of 11 children, twelve if you counted her father.  Of those 11 children, 7 of them were boys, 6 of whom were brought up with no rules, no expectations for behavior and no instruction in courtesy, manners and respect.  Oh sure, they got the basic “shake an adults hand and look them in the eye when you’re introduced” kind of training, but much beyond that nothing.  This led most adults who met them to think the kids were great kids.  And they were, unless you happened to be their step-siblings or someone they did not like.

Now, of course, having so many siblings so close to the same ages meant that when they went anywhere together, they formed their own gang.  They also moved in and took over like their own gang.  They did this when they moved in with us and they did this whenever we went to visit folks. It wasn’t long before we stopped visiting folks.  Their behavior was no better than street kids.  And, it was diametrically opposed to the way I expected my own children to behave.  This was a problem in the marriage from day three, and it ended up being reason number two that we actually couldn’t make it work.  Reason number 1 was that the ex just simply would not communicate in order to resolve the issues we needed to address. At one point, he refused to speak to me for two months. 

This was the conflicted environment into which my youngest child was born and lived for 6 of her 8 years.  Now, the conflict is gone, the chaos is gone and life is much more peaceful and stable (I can’t tell you the number of times she and I packed up to spend the weekend at a hotel just to get away from the nightmare).  Sadly, she learned from some bad models how to behave.  This behavior worked for her as survival in such a hostile crowd of so many.  It has not worked for her at school and since starting school she’s had a tough time at times dealing appropriately with other children.  This isn’t entirely unusual, but she has had more than her share of issues with others at school.  It is now negatively impacting her friendships at school and she is beginning to see herself in a negative light. 

The other day, she made a mistake in class, was corrected for it, realized she was going to have a negative consequence.  She began crying and said, “Would somebody just kill me.”

The teacher is well aware of my daughter’s history and knows the family quite well.  She knows my daughter can tend toward some drama, but this statement concerned my daughter’s teacher.

Later, about a week ago I heard a similar kind of statement come out of her mouth.  It concerned me too. 

When my SemiPro Photographer Friend who is also a school psych was in town a month ago, he noticed that she was really wound up and very, very different than he’d ever seen her. He suggested that she might be exhibiting some signs of depression. He told me that depression sometimes masquerades as ADD/ADHD.  By this time, I was concerned enough that I felt a counselor should be seen.  In order to get her into a counselor, I have to have the doctor’s referral. 

So that is why later this week, she will be going to the doctor.

My son, was diagnosed with ADD/ADHD when he was three.  As an educator, I feel this is often an overdiagnosed ailment, however, I readily admit I am not a doctor and I never diagnose children.  I didn’t want to just jump to the easiest solution to medicate my child so he would be good. Two years and many specialists and other resources later, we finally started my son on medication and behavior management and physical therapy (by this time, his fine motor skills were so delayed he needed help).  Since then we’ve not increased his medication even though he’s grown. He’s had great results and has done very well.  We, meaning me, his dad and our son, visit the doctor every six months just to make sure things are still okay and that his dosage of medicine is appropriate.  This last appointment, we began discussing how, at the age of thirteen, my son is the oldest in his class and the smallest/shortest in his class.  The doctor plotted his height and weight and sure enough, there is a definite plateau over the last year.  At 13, a plateau, even if it falls in the range of normal for his age, is not a good thing.  The doctor suggested we do some preliminary blood tests just to rule out the possibility of something thyroid related being a problem.  So over to the lab we went fully expecting to recieve a call that said there was nothing awry with the test results.

But something showed up in the 5 vials of blood they drew from my son last week. So the doctor has requested we schedule an appointment to go over the test results with him.  That appointment will be happening on Thursday right after my daughter’s appointment. 

I hope it is nothing for both of them.  I have to be honest, I’m a little concerned.

My children are rarely ever ill, and even more rarely, except for my son who needs regular six month appointments to renew his prescription, do we go to the doctor to deal with it.  Now this month suddenly two of my children will visit the doctor two times.  It’s not a bunch of drama and I’m certainly not stressing about it, but I do have that little nagging concern that weighs on me.

First of all, I can’t believe I actually have a daughter old enough to be dating let alone having the guy come to the house.   He usually picked her up at her dad’s since that’s where she was living on the weekend, but now that things have changed he has to come here to get her.

Today was the first day he picked her up here.

Well, Friday he dropped her off here but I was out with my own fun and missed that meeting.

So today, I finally and officially met the boyfriend.  That was the weirdest experience in the world.  Sent me back a lot of years.  Did my parents feel like this the first time they met someone I was dating?  Like hoping their kid wasn’t embarrassed by them and feeling somewhat uncertain even though they are old adults and supposed to have it all together?  Amazing how I thought my parents had a complete grip on the world.  Now, at the age they must have been when I started dating, I wonder if they felt as uncertain about much of life as I do.  I wonder, do I look like I have a grip on it, like I thought my parents did?  Somehow, I doubt it.

I suddenly just feel very old.

He’s a very nice boy and they weren’t here long, just long enough to say a few things and then head out to where ever it is that they are going.  I hope I’m not a frumpy mom. 

I don’t just have one child that is old enough to be bringing dates home, I have two and soon it will be three and then finally the fourth will take her turn. 

I suddenly feel even older. I feel like the opportunities for love and happiness (meaning happiness resulting from that adult romantic love as opposed to happiness that comes from just being very grateful and glad to be alive and that things aren’t worse than they are) is very probably past for me.  At some point, though I resist it, I suspect I may one day soon have to come to grips with this very real possibility.  I mean, it isn’t like I’m in my 30’s, with no kids and can just pick up where I left off. 

Sometimes, I feel I really screwed it up during my 20’s and 30’s and that somehow the idea or hope of finding someone to share the journey with is just not realistic.  The ones that interest me are completely uninterested in my package deal (can’t say I blame them exactly).  The ones that can easily adapt to the package deal, so far, haven’t ignited my imagination/passion quite the way I’m hoping it can be ignited.  So far it just hasn’t been a good fit on all the big stuff.  I’ve come close, but it just hasn’t been “it”.  So far.  I’m not willing to throw in the towel on falling in love for the first and last time in my life  yet, but sometimes I do feel as though I should seriously consider it.

Maybe I need to dismiss the idea that all the pieces of the puzzle will even fit together.  Maybe I need to accept that Mr. Nice and Respectful and Great Person to Be With is never also going to be Mr. Chemistry.  Maybe, that’s just how it is out here in Post 40 World…for me. 

But I want it all.  Maybe I want too much.

Seems like my odds would be a bit better if I were just ten years younger.  But I’m not.

Anyway, my beautiful daughter and her handsome young boyfriend went out the door this afternoon…all of life ahead of them so to speak.

I felt a twinge of emotion as the door closed behind them.  It was that twinge that I know so well.  It was that twinge that usually signifies a turning point for me or a decision point or a greater level of awareness somehow.  It is that twinge that mixes all the emotions together in one great big hard to describe flavor: joy, happiness, pride, pain, sadness, regret, hope and discouragement.

I don’t know what great big personal insight I’ll be left with this time or what kind of decision or turning point I’ll face as the result of this except that maybe I will indeed decide to settle for something “good enough” or maybe I’ll just decide to stop dating at all and remain single forever, because somehow, right now in this weird space I’m in it seems that those are the choices. 

Mostly, this afternoon’s experience left me feeling very, very old.

Where’s the Geritol and my rocker?

Wake up.

Get up.

Grind beans.

Fix coffee.

Fix breakfast.

Eat breakfast.

Check emails.

Answer emails…. or not.

Oh, here’s an interesting one from a guy I dated off and on for a month or two just after my divorce was final:

Hi Cat,

I was bored and decided to take a look at (insertdatingsitehere), which I have not done in a year or two, and came across your profile.  I figured you wouldn’t mind too much if I told you that your new photos look really good.  You look very sexy and feminine in them.

Wonder what to think of that since after refusing to date him, he blocked me.  Now a year later he tracks down my personal email again and contacts me.  The pictures must really have made an impression. Moving on.

Check blog stats. Approve comments. 

Think about what to write.

Check how long it’s been since I’ve written.

Sit down and just start writing.  Not sure what to write or where I’m going with this.

That’s kind of like my life these days. Not sure how to proceed and where to go with it.  Feels like I’ve been at the crossroads looking at the signposts and pondering which direction to take for a long time now.

The oldest is now with me all the time and communication with her dad is emotionally fraught most of the time.  She either feels angry or absolutely horrible.  I feel powerless to solve anything for her and even if I could do something other than just be there for her, I’m not sure it would help her conquer the monsters in her life that she most needs to free herself from.  (No, that was not a slam against her dad, but more a remark directed at the nature of their relationship and the weirdness of it right now.)

Having her at home does change my life in many ways.  I noted it for the first time last night.  It should be a no brainer.  I mean, I should have anticipated this happening, but I didn’t until it happened.  It doesn’t change anything and I’m not in the least resentful of her because of this change.  I welcome it in a way, but it is a bit amusing that I didn’t anticipate this piece of it all earlier.

Prior to the events that led up to Number 1 coming home,  I had every other weekend completely to myself to do what I wanted.  This meant I also had my house to myself.  This also meant for some little bits of the month, I did experience what maybe empty nesters experience.  I only experienced it momentarily, but I have to say, being able to come and go at will or to not go or to just stay in my p.j.s and putter around the house all day was really very fun.

This also meant that if I went out on a date, I was coming home to an empty house.

Yesterday, the I.J. and I went out starting early in the afternoon and stayed out till pretty late in the evening (nearly midnight, which was when my contacts started drying out and my feet started hurting from the shoes I’d been wearing for far too long).

It was a great day.  I’m still waffling and walking the fence on this one, but it isn’t because the I.J. isn’t an absolutely fabulous guy. 

Anyway, after said fabulous date we arrive at my house and suddenly it dawned on me.  I wasn’t going to be able to ask him in like I’d normally do (Number 1 and BFF since 7th grade were ensconced in the living room and watching “The Holiday” in their p.j.’s).  I couldn’t exactly have him walk me up to the door (front window looks out onto front step).  So, a quick kiss good-bye in the car ended the great date.

So much for “Let’s go back to my place and have a glass of wine in front of the fire”.

The drama settled down a bit today.  It hasn’t necessarily ended but the frothing tension calmed for a bit today.  Not before an hour long talk with Ex #1 though.

That was torture.  He’s one of two people in the world I would really not mind never seeing or talking to again.

He really has kind of lost it.  He accused my daughter of being completely driven by her emotions and yet he was the one who was on the verge of losing complete control throughout most of the conversation.  It was almost comical to watch.

You see, I’ve learned that if I can distance myself enough emotionally from the situation or if I can try to take a step back, I can watch and observe some really funny stuff.

Here’s what I saw:

A 47-year-old man scream at his 18-year-old daughter as though she was still a third-grader and merely because she felt she should be involved with the discussion that was largely about her and because of her. 

When she attempted to state this matter-of-factly and calmly, he very nearly came unglued and ordered her back into the house. 

I saw him accuse others (me, his daughter, my family) of intentional and willful malicious acts, but when presented with accurate data of specific instances of times when he and his family displayed the very same behaviors then the rationale became, “They weren’t doing it on purpose.”

Like that’s not someone who’s completely in denial.

Whatever, she’s at my house for as long as she needs to be.  He’s got some validity to his perspective but he’s far too invested to be objective or to deal maturely with the stuff.  The daughter is being far more reasonable, and tonight, especially far more level headed.   She must get that from me.

I tried to talk to him about the risks of driving an irreparable wedge.  I tried to get him to consider some things she’s feeling and thinking.  I tried to get him to reflect on the idea that if he’s done a decent job as a father he probably shouldn’t have to be working so hard at this right now.  But do you think he heard any of it? 

Nope.

Unteachable and resistant and defensive and scared but making things worse by letting his emotions rule.  I get it.  I’ve been there.  This was not one of those times for me. 

Just as we were driving over to take Briggs (Number 2) to her dad’s, her dad called.  He told her he wanted to talk to me when we got there.  Okay.  The old tension and fear began to rise up in me.  I really hate confrontations with this man.  Life and conversation with this man is like being trapped in the path of a steamroller and you can’t get away but you can’t stop the steamroller from moving right on over you.  It never feels good.  As we drove closer to the house of confrontation, I quickly assessed the rising emotion in me, realized this man can do nothing to me.  Realized also that I can calmly and adeptly address any issue he will bring up with confidence and conviction and absolutely no fear.  Though I still did not want to talk to the man, by the time I pulled into the driveway, I was calm and ready.  Bring it. 

He started out the conversation by stating that his daughter makes these broad unfounded assumptions about what he’s about and why he does stuff.  He ended the conversation by making broad assumptions about his daughter and what she’s about. 

The conversation ended but it isn’t over.

I handled that incredibly well if I do say so myself.  Good-bye drama.  Hello calm, clear, confident adult discussion.  Took me long enough, but looks like I’m getting there.

My heart rate never got a beat faster than my usual resting rate.  I can face the drama, watch the drama, hear the drama, but I am able now to let it all whirl around me without getting sucked and drawn in and thus escalating things further and adding to the drama.  I think I actually helped smooth some things over here.  Maybe not, but I said what I needed to say.  I conveyed the message I needed to convey for myself and my daughter and I remained completely composed and clear thinking the entire time.

Sooooo…..

I swear my life has been so absolutely drama free for the last year, but no one would believe that after the events of this week. 

Seriously.

Okay, an update on the situation with Number 1 and her dad…

Let the drama continue.

Fortunately, for all interested parties, he’s doing exactly what I suspected he’d do and is tying the knots in his own noose.

Here’s what happened:

He was happy clappy when he saw her today, just like nothing had happened this weekend.  Of course, he made no effort to try to breach the emotional canyon he’d created with his daughter.

She called him later and tried to discuss it with him. (Hmmm, who is demonstrating the greater maturity there?)  She tried to clarify if she was really grounded or if he’d just been spouting.  She tried to say she just wanted some time. She just tried to have a conversation with her dad. 

He labeled her rebellious and told her that if she ever wanted to come back to his home she would have to ask his permission.

Whatever that means.

I don’t get it.

Anyway, looks like Number 1 will be living with me full time indefinitely. 

Sucks to be her dad.

She’s actually a bit relieved on some levels that he drew that line, because for a very long time she has dreaded going to his house and dealing with the dogma that is inconsistent and hypocritical (to her).  She said none of this to her dad and she feels “guilty” that she caused all this rift, because in the end, she is a first born pleaser type and she feels horrible that her dad is not pleased with her…but she can’t deal with the craziness anymore. 

Anyway, that’s the latest.  My every other free weekend and Thursday nights free to do whatever with whomever have been somewhat modified.

Hmmmm, maybe this really means I have now been given every weekend free because I now have built in babysitting!  j/k….but I love that idea.  Hmmmm, maybe we could work a trade: babysitting younger sister for transportation till she gets her driver’s license.  I think  I might just be on to something here!

LOL!