Matrimony

I left this as a comment on Annie's site, but it was too introspective not to reproduce here. ;)

I've been legally married twice, and by common law, several other times. I've had children in and out of wedlock, and I have suffered (and caused others to suffer) some slings and arrows of matrimony.

I was interested to read your column on rom-coms, Annie. I think that's in a nutshell what killed my first marriage. We were young, inexperienced, and I was under the dillusion that marriage would make my grief over my brother's death all better. It didn't.

I turned down a marriage proposal some time after that, although the idea that I could make it work with an ex-con/ mental patient/ welfare bad boy did cross my mind. Fortunately, I had evolved a little in my thinking, and I moved on.

I got pregnant with a man whose preferred method of "courting" was to call me up at 9:30 pm on a Wednesday to ask if I was horny. He liked me to leave the lights off, and the sliding glass door unlocked, so he could let himself in, and leave without the bother of human interaction- what was I thinking? Thank goodness I did not convince myself I could/would make it work with him, although I was left with a treasure of a boy from him.

I promised myself I would be a better wife to Willis, which worked for a while. He was a good man, but the mental health issues we both struggled with made this relationship pretty challenging. He died from bipolar disorder, and I still sometimes regret that I wasn't the wife I aspired to be with him. I'm a better widow, I think.

My current marriage is my last, with any luck. Neither of us wishes to undertake the legal trappings of marriage this time round, but we both wear rings. We refer to each other as husband and wife.

Will "it" work? I'm no longer sure that there is any "it" to marriage. Rob and I do our utmost to get along, support each other, learn from each other, enjoy each other. Neither of us is interested in doing this over again, so we are pretty determined to figure out how to keep getting along, even when it is challenging to do so.

So, what I want from marriage, this time 'round, is to be a partner, lover and companion, and to have one in return. So far, so good.

Entropy

• We have “lost” 5 people since August at work
  
• We have lost about 60 people at work in the 13 years I have been there
  
• Sometimes I really hate work
  
• I don’t have an up-to-date résumé
  
• I can’t change jobs anyway
  
• What would I do?
  
• How would I afford our mortgage?
  
• The financial advisor we saw today figured we would have had 3 months at current debt ratios before running out of money
  
• I need to work more, not less, according to the bank
  
• I feel like I hardly ever see my children
  
• Christmas shopping- arrggh!
  
• How can I still have so many boxes left to unpack? We’ve lived here for a year now
  
• My BFF is moving back to BC
  
• She and her parents just saw our house for the first time
  
• The house was assessed at a higher value when we bought it than what we actually paid for it- score!
  
• Will the assessed value of the house now allow us enough credit latitude to wait out the remaining payouts on Willis’s estate? probably
  
• Do you have your wills written?
  
• I don’t, not completely
  
• Sigh
  
• I know what I would like to do at work, but I’m not sure how to go about being able to do it
  
• That’s part of the problem with being indispensable
  
• or is it being an enabler?
  
• Willis’s birthday is coming up
  
• Rob and I figured out our Christmas gifts, and purchased most of them today
  
• Rob says screw housework and chores next weekend- we’re going to see the iMax and the trees at the Empress
  
• Sounds good to me!
  
• I am a better money manager than this
  
• I supported Syd’s daycare manager today, by telling her that the parent who just took a strip off her was acting badly and did not reflect on the quality of care she was providing, and what was he doing blasting her in public anyway?
  
• We have a credit with Westjet, and we’d like to fly somewhere warm, but what to do about the kids? and how to afford a hotel?
  
• Sigh
  
• I’m actually pretty happy with my life: I own my own home (sort of), with a man I love, who is secure enough to share me with a dead man, who does not cause me too much trouble (lately), and I have kids and step-kids I love, and I have some wonderful pets, and although my folks are coming to stay for a couple of weeks after Christmas, I know it will be okay, because my mother is better behaved on my turf, and because I really do love my parents
  
• I think I might pre-write my mother’s epitaph, for my own therapy, and to share with her while she is alive how wonderfully intricate my feelings for her are
  
• One day, the ache in my jaw and the knot in my back and the weasel in my neck will give way to other, newer maladies
  
• I really do love blogging as an outlet
  
• I am very grateful for online friends
  
• Grin!

Seething

This too shall pass.

Tonight, Rob received a scathing e-letter from his ex, absolutely trashing me, saying that the boys have nothing positive to say about me or our relationship. According to her, amongst my sins are wearing revealing clothing, having sex in the hot tub, making Rob’s kids refer to my children as step-siblings, being immature enough to make the boys cry by saying I am going to have a baby with their father, that the boys resent the amount of time Rob spends with my kids, that I often “crys and crys” and is very depressed... She ends saying that she finds it “frusterating” not to get a response back to Rob when she sends him an email.

Rob sent back an email, and talked with his boys, and I think that all is more-or-less well. I am left with echoes of anger, resentment, self-doubt; especially self-doubt.

I have enough experience to know that much of what Sarah is saying really points out her own inadequacies, as a parent, ex-wife and step-wife.

She is an exceedingly poor communicator. Her spelling, grammar and sentence construction are beyond atrocious (including spelling my name repeatedly as “Saly”); she is unable to address her concerns in an adult-to-adult forum, and certainly not a face-to-face one.

I am reminded of times when Cynthia, Willis’s ex, spoke with me or with me and Willis, when she had concerns about the well-being of her child while in our care. I never received those concerns well at the time, which I still regret a little, but I have made my peace with Cynthia, and now welcome her insight into parenting and co-parenting. The fact, though, that Cynthia was able to speak about her concerns in person with us, and that she made a solid effort, in the face of some opposition, to create an atmosphere of team parenting, tells me that it is possible.

In the meantime, I question my own performance. Are any of Sarah’s accusations, or the boys’, founded? Much of what she says is either entirely inaccurate or “ancient” history, but is there any part of my step-parenting which does need attention?

I suspect that the real underlying issue may be that the boys have not been getting enough of their dad’s time and attention. This is something I can do something about. I can take my own kids out to do stuff with just them, or I can encourage Rob to take his boys out. I’ve been feeling extra-homebody-ish lately, and I don’t look forward to having to go out, but this sounds like a pretty important reason to have to push my envelope.

A little piece of me is wanting to pull the widow card on this one. I wrote a tongue-in-cheek response to Sarah’s letter, which will not see the light of day, except for the brief excerpt here: "...they resent the amount of time you spend with her kids." "Would you like to take "Saly's" kids for a while? Or should she send them to be with their dad at the cemetery?"

Sometimes, I just like to point out the depth of my loss. Sigh.

Giving Thanks

• seeing CATS with the gals from work this weekend
  
• Sam’s head lice infestation, found this weekend, seems limited to him and is now well under control
  
• the power outage, covering the entire south end of Vancouver Island and the Gulf Islands, was fairly brief (~ 1 hour), and caught us at home, after supper
  
• Rob made a spectacular thanksgiving dinner- I loves me some turkey!
  
• I made everybody say something they were thankful for: good health, family, food, our house, our animals all made the list
• Linus’s pet guinea pig did not need to be euthanized (although it would have been nice if he’d made it, as the vet seemed to think he would, but he was quite elderly and unwell)
  
• life is good, n’est-ce pas? (I’se all about the silver linings)

Kids 'n' Critters, from home and away

• It's gooood to be home. 
  
• Rob and I have seen a counsellor to help us normalize life in a blended family.
  
• Even work is okay.
  
• I haven't actually talked to my mother since being home.
  
• The kids are getting along beautifully these days.
  
• We are over-run with eight-legged brethren.
  
• Back to school is good; morning "rush" hour, not so much.
  
• Life is good.
  

Rob and Oliver on the shore of Lake Ontario

Linus and a good-looking sandwich in Ottawa

Oliver and Sam at the War Museum in Hamilton

Sam and his cousin applying mud "masques" at the cottage

Sydney, thrilled beyond words with a pony ride at the "Ex"

It rained so much in the month before our arrival 

that my swimming hole was a rushing torrent

Loving her first roller coaster at the CNE

Egyptian artefact at the ROM

Pentax chillin' to tunes at home

Date night at the Lagoon- heron and geese

Not sure I love ALL creatures- 

this one is now safely outside instead of in the kids' bathroom sink

(several of his cousins have been rehomed, too)

A letter to a certain child

Dear Child,

You had it tough growing up. You really did. It is a testament to some real strength deep within you that you survived your childhood, and without resorting to drugs or other self-destructive behaviours. You did not escape childhood unscathed, though, did you?

I hear you. I wonder how many instances there were where you were belittled or criticized or judged and found inadequate? It still happens. It happens so frequently, that it is no longer possible to tell when it does not happen. The whole sum of the transactions are coloured in such a way that if there are positive transactions, you are not even aware of them.

When each transaction, even the innocent ones, contain a barb, perhaps not meant to injure, but nevertheless piercing and painful, it becomes very difficult to stay whole and sane, doesn’t it? You have done so well. I am so sorry that this has happened to you, and still happens to you. You are a lovely person and do not deserve ill-treatment.

Abuse is a funny thing, isn’t it? It may not look like abuse from the outside. It may not feel like abuse in the moment. But the accumulation of years of put-downs and jeering comments is truly devastating. I’m sorry you still have to be dealing with this. This is not fair, and is undeserved.

You are very special. “What has she done now?” is a question that does not reflect the reality of who you are. It reflects a perception of inadequacy which exists solidly because of the deficits of the questioner. Other people can see and do see and do love the good that is within you, without treating you as though you are the total sum of your habits, quirks, idiosyncrasies. Some people even love those things about you; in fact, many people love you because of those habits, quirks and idiosyncrasies. I am one of those people.

In fact, it is those characteristics which make you interesting and successful and YOU. Please believe that it is those character traits which come under the most attack that I love best in you. Sometimes these traits are challenging, even for you, but please do not allow yourself to be diminished because some other person says you are not good enough. No one else has the right to judge you or to bludgeon you into different behaviour.

If you are behaving badly, in some way, which does happen from time-to-time, please know that guidance and correction can be offered in a loving and supportive manner. When you are chastised for some behaviour, please believe that that chastisement, while hurtful, does not offer up a reflection of your worth as a person. Truly, you are a good person. Your entire goal in life seems to be to help people and to build them up. I so wish that you could be such a cheerleader for yourself, and that when you are such a cheerleader, that you could hear and believe in the messages you give yourself.

Let’s try. Put on your best calming, reassuring, loving voice. You are an amazing “whisperer”. Do it for yourself now.

• You are an exceptionally kind person. You would never intentionally hurt someone. When you do hurt someone unintentionally, you try so hard to make it right, as soon as you are able. 
  
• You are so honest. It is quite amazing to watch sometimes.
  
• You listen amazingly well. You hear so much more than is being said. 
  
• You care so much about people. You like people, and people like to be with you because of the way you make them feel.
  
• You always look for the good in any situation. You can find a positive attribute in the most dire of circumstances. Good for you!
  
• Do you see how well you communicate with animals? You know how to love and speak lovingly to them, and they hear that and respond. You do this with your family sometimes, too, and it always works well when you do.
  
• You are so willing to learn.
  
• You work so hard at being considerate.
  
• You are so playful.
  
• You are amazingly strong, and amazingly resilient.
  
• You wrote this for yourself and from yourself recently: “ Love is an amazing force; joy can be found almost anywhere, anytime, in playing and listening to each other; laughter is infectious and tickling games create solidarity; when in doubt, a hug is never a bad idea.” There is so much wisdom in this. You are wise beyond what you give yourself credit for.
  
• You are often a truly amazing parent and spouse. You are always willing to work on becoming better, which is perhaps the more impressive attribute. Please give yourself credit for being willing to change and to grow.
  

Always something

Every time I tell my mother anything about my family, she has a comeback about how I should be raising my kids. She certainly thinks I should back off my step-kids and get my 4 year old daughter to grow up, emotionally. 

She is so critical and ready to find fault with me. I know she had a hard upbringing, and has had a lifetime full of emotional trauma herself, but I'd like her to find some other way to deal with it than tossing it my way. 

She thinks that whatever slights get handed to my kids at this stage are insignificant and that they are resilient enough to shrug off ill-treatment. If that was true, I would not be so screwed-up now (and neither would she, perhaps). I cannot let her get to my kids the way she got/gets to me- I simply can not and must not.

She was talking about guardianship of the kids in the event of both Rob's and my deaths; she thinks that she and my dad should have physical custody and that my brother and sister-in-law could be their back-up. She says the family/household rules would have to change, but that they would do okay, and at least they would be with family. 

I am horrified by this idea; enough so that I will choose a different executor/executrix for my will as soon as I get back to town (I have never and would never have my parents responsible for the custody of my children- shudder). 

My mother says that if she could have my kids for a week, she would have their fussy-eating, tantrums, whininess, tattle-telling and various other sins trained out of them, without once laying a hand on them. I have no real objectivity here, but I don't think my kids are that bad (nor are my step-kids, although I am, no doubt, harder on them than on my own kids).

I'm no disciplinarian, and I know I make mistakes with my parenting and step-parenting; I really hope I am making different mistakes with my own children than were made with me; and I really, fervently hope that my children will not be as damaged by their upbringing as I was by mine. 

I wonder whether we could stay at my brother's house for some of the time during our next visit. I know I would drive them nuts, but it might be safer than staying with my folks. That is such a sad thing to say.

A lovely day

We went to Canada's Wonderland today, where we met up with my BFF. Everyone reports to having had a good time, and I got plenty of sunshine, wind and water. Life is good.

A little petulant and defensive, but trying to accept responsibility for my own actions

I made a mistake, and I don’t like that. What I don’t like even more is being called on it. I hope that I have already made right the effect my mistake might have had on the people directly affected. My mother continues to be pissed off with me. I actually apologized to her in so many words, but that is not enough. I am really glad I don’t live with my mother all the time, because I really don’t understand all her rules about how to do things.

In the interest of clarity, here is the situation as I understand it: I love my step-sons, and they often make me crazy. The younger (10) is very young emotionally, and the elder (12) is often a bully. I have a hair-trigger with both of them if I perceive them to be “dissing” my kids, their younger step-siblings. I know I need to back-off a little, use a filter, assess the situation with objectivity, be a grown-up (dammit). I wish I could count on myself to do so. I certainly can’t count on kids of their ages with their temperaments to be kind to others all the time (in other words, I can count on them to be kids).

The boys definitely have a club of two going on. This makes sense, of course, since they have always had each other, especially when their parents/family broke up. But, I hate for them to exclude or ridicule my son, who idolizes them. Mostly, they don’t do this. Mostly, they are tolerant and friendly with him. But the times when my boy gets hurt by their behaviour always seem to over-ride the good times in my mind, and I react in a mother bear fashion. (Well, of course I would.)

My girl is almost less of an issue. A year ago, she was a big trigger and a big target for them. Mostly, their comments appeared to roll off her. Now, there is less negativity aimed her way, and there is pretty good tolerance in both directions.

Tonight we had supper at my brother and sister-in-law’s house. Their elder 2 boys (9 & 11) were not there, but their little guy (3) was. He and Syd did okay together, although he is a bit too rough for her and she is a little too princess to tolerate it. (I do try to be fair and objective, and I do hate it when I don't succeed.)

They have a trampoline at their house, and the two big boys and the two little kids were supposed to be taking turns using it, which of course was a little challenging for all of them. Somehow, something in the exchange around the damn trampoline and turn-taking led me on to the topic of half-siblings for the older boys, and how they might have to include someone who was actually related to them by blood in some of their activities if they did have a half-sibling. This suggestion was dismissed immediately because both men in question have had vasectomies.

This is where I stirred it up a little more.

I suggested that their dad could have had a child before they came along, with his first wife, and that they could have a half-sibling older than them. The world ended at that moment.

Unfortunately, restarting the world, by taking them aside, with their dad, and explaining what was and wasn’t true, and how their comments and behaviour, even inadvertently, could hurt people, and how the world would not end if they did have another sibling, even though no-one was going to provide them with one, and how people could love more than one person at a time, and how much they are loved, and by whom, and blah, blah, blah, took place during the serving up of supper. I guess this was uncomfortable for the others who were there, not participating in the conversation, which was taking place in another room. (It really does sound as though I was particularly childish as I lay it out here- ouch.)

I think we worked things through fairly well, and although things weren’t on an exactly even keel by the time we rejoined the supper group, it wasn’t too bad. It is apparent, however, that we need some kind on family therapy to help us with the issues related to joining up our families. Predictably, the ten year old wants nothing to do with this. Clearly, I need to find ways to let the boys have their own definitions of themselves and their family. I also need to find ways to keep myself and my children from getting too hurt by the rejection or indifference of others, which may mean finding ways to reframe those concepts. (I really do need to avoid letting these two children, who I really do love, bring out my own most childish behaviour - I can and must do better than this. I can't continue to "fight back" against their self-protective behaviours by attacking them in any way, and I fear that that is what I have been doing.)

Okay, so my mistake, as I see it, was to bring up a known-to-be-hot topic at someone else’s house, at mealtime. I coulda/shoulda/woulda waited, and coulda/shoulda/woulda addressed whatever issues needed to be addressed later, and I coulda/shoulda/woulda given my step-sons some wiggle room on this known-to-be-hot topic, and and .... 

Oh well. I think I am on okay terms with my step-sons, and with Rob. Ditto my sister-in-law and brother. (I can apologize properly when I see Rob and the kids tomorrow, and I will call my sis-in-law soon - tomorrow? - to make sure I have made amends.) Not so much on okay terms with my mother, who rounded on me at their house, tears and frustration and everything, and who is still not right with me, and I don’t really know what to do about that ('cause I already apologized, and I am really resisting doing it again- so childish!), except write here, and think of how lovely it is to have my own home, four thousand kilometres away from rules I don’t understand.

Tomorrow will be better. (Maybe I'll even wear a mantle of adulthood for a bit tomorrow.)

A mixed bag

Today's is a two-part post. We travelled to Ontario today. The traveling itself had crappy enough moments to make me fear and dread my arrival; as is often (but not always) the case, the anticipation of said arrival was worse than the event, sort of.

Here is my in-the-moment take during traveling:

I feel absolutely alone in this experience, and yet I know others have been here before me and will also come after me. Being a solo, as opposed to single, parent is god-awful. I truly hate it sometimes. It makes me miss Willis, and lament my lot in life in a big way. I don’t give in much to boo-hoo-hoo, poor-me sentiments often, but sometimes, that self-pity is the only gentleness and compassion I can conjure up for my situation.

The specific situation is thus: I am currently on a plane, in the midst of traveling for 10 hours. My children are with me. I had about 1 hour of sleep last night. For many, a plane trip might present an opportunity to catch up on sleep, reading or writing. My children are almost-eight and four. They need activity, stimulation, companionship. Ten hours of watching video is not going to happen, nor should it. I brought a supply of new toys and activities and snacks, but boredom and mischief are setting in. I’m going somewhat mad with the effort of keeping these two children, with such different interests, from creating a ruckus on the plane.

I have, nominally, a traveling companion on this journey. Rob is here, too, with his 2 boys, aged 10 and 12. His boys have never flown before. The youngest was experiencing, as is normal for him, acute anxiety. We had anticipated this, and used medication and some desensitization to good effect, and he has done very well. Both of his boys are calm, occupied. One of the activities brought for Sam was a new DS game. Oliver also has a DS, but he doesn’t want to play right now.

I’d like to change seats with Rob for a bit, but neither he nor his kids are at all interested in that. Much as Rob loves my children, he has no interest in scraping them off the walls and ceiling at the moment (or at any time, really). He is older, his kids are older, he has done this before. When he did this age, though, he had a partner. Now, when he needs a break from his kids, he can count on them being with their mother 3 days a week. He used to get child-free time, but not so much since I came along.

I wish I had someone else who had equal responsibility for my kids. Sometimes, parenting them is just so overwhelming, and I long for a partner in the process. I kinda of have a partner, but in many ways, I do not. I chose this for myself; I had Sam as a single parent, so I feel I have little right to complain about this sorry situation. That said, my blog is my place to say whatever needs saying, and right now, in this moment, I’m saying that I wish the buck stopped somewhere else.

Soon, we will land, and a whole new set of circumstances will present themselves, rife with their own challenges. For instance, Rob and his kids are going to stay with his parents tonight, and my kids and I will with mine. My parents no longer even have an animal with whom I can commune when it gets tough. I may be here a lot this week. Wish me luck.

Then we landed. 

I met Rob's parents for the first time, and we all (me, Rob, the kids, my folks, his folks) headed to their house for a meal together. Their house is full of ornaments and treasures, lovingly displayed on a variety of surfaces throughout their home. I have a four-year-old who loves shiny, sparkly objects. O.M.G. Stress level looking astronomical here- what have I done to myself? Who's got my back?? Yargh! 

As I was trying to talk myself down on the plane, I came to the realization that in actual fact, my kids have my back. It goes kind of like this: I'm theirs- they're mine. This is absolute and unchanging. Even when Sydney screeches that I am a "bad mama", I know that my love is unconditional, and that, no matter what, we have each other. And I know that my kids have an extraordinary amount of wisdom in them (as do all children and animals, if we care to listen). I don't know all of the wisdom yet, and maybe I never will, but some parts of it are unassailable and oh-so-obvious in hindsight (and Robert Fulghum was right on it): love is an amazing force; joy can be found almost anywhere, anytime, in playing and listening to each other; laughter is infectious and tickling games create solidarity; when in doubt, a hug is never a bad idea.  

So, with this in mind, as the house became an increasing minefield, Syd and I went outside. There is a playground around the corner from Rob's old house, and we walked there and played enough to be able to come back in good humour, and enjoy the meal. We enjoyed our "new", extended, stitched-together family. We got a glimpse into Rob's childhood. It was good. Then it came time to leave. Again, really questioning why I thought it would be a good idea for my sweetie and I to be in separate houses. With whom would I get to unwind and review and replenish at the end of the day, with my guy and his kids at his parents' house? Okay, maybe I never thought it would be a good idea, exactly, but the best we could come up with at the time. 

So, off we go, with me imagining that my own "homecoming" with my kids (although we have done it many times before) would be tense, awkward, full of half-seen pitfalls. That my parents' house would be unfamiliar and uncomfortable and not home. Here's where the anticipation was so over-the-top, compared to the reality: 

My parents' house is home; it is familiar (we are, afterall, family), and it is lovely and welcoming. The house has been lovingly updated over the years, the garden is a garden-tour quality showpiece of barely-tamed wilderness, and I can hardly wait to show it off to Rob, his kids and his parents. I know there will be challenges ahead- my mother and I do the mother-daughter thing very well, but this home is a pretty decent place to call home, at least while I am away from my own home-on-the-hill.

Postus Interruptus

I start so many more posts than I finish, or even attend to, and I want to be okay with that. My blog shouldn’t add a layer of obligation to my life- it’s supposed to be a helpful, joyful thing.

That said, let’s see if I can sneak some snippets of stuff into here:

•I missed my nephew’s birthday- he turned 9, and I haven’t acknowledged it in any way. I haven’t ever sent last year’s gift to him, either. I am so disorganized!

•I love my “husband”- he is a real gift in my life.

•I miss my husband- I wish I could recall more of his quirks to mind more readily. Yesterday, as Rob was leaning over the bathroom sink in shorts, no top and socks and slippers, I caught sight of his mid-section first. The body shape, posture, texture and pattern of hair, all said Willis to me- it was very disorienting to see Rob’s face on Willis- the mind is a funny creature that way. The socks and slippers were clearly characteristic of Rob, but the problem my poor, tired mind cannot solve is whatever would Willis have been wearing on his feet if it had been him? I absolutely cannot remember or picture it. And, much as I love Rob, I sometimes ache for one more hug with Willis- I love(d) him, too, and I never did get a final hug with him (lying my head on his lifeless chest in the trauma room doesn’t count).

•When I hug Rob, I get a powerful and profound feeling of “rightness” and “calmness”. We are clearly meant to be together, or at least, we clearly belong to each other. I love that a hug with Rob can often put my world to rights- how cool is that? (And Annie, just like with you and your Rob, it goes waaay beyond hugging. Note the title of this post? Bet you can figure out what interrupted this particular piece a couple of nights back... ;))

•The other day, I left Sam in the boy’s wear department, happily picking out some summer gear for himself, while Sydney and I were in the girl’s wear, a couple of aisles over. Turns out, Sam wasn’t actually paying attention to the fact that I had moved on, found himself alone, and got worried. He saw a cashier in the jewelry department, and thought about asking her for help, but was feeling a little too shy to go up to her. He took himself behind a rack of clothes, talked to himself reassuringly, then went up to her to ask for help. I was paged to pick up my “package” in the jewelry department, which I did with alacrity, and was able to greet my not-quite-grownup boy with a big hug. I’m so proud of him for overcoming his shyness and doing the right thing, and not panicking. I still believe that “free-range” (with shades of “attachment”) parenting is absolutely the best style for me, and my kids do okay with it, too, which is an added bonus.

•Sydney is a drama queen, and she is little, and the only girl in the family- this causes her issues sometimes:

•I think Girl wrote this: “The thing about recurring issues is that the better you get at spotting them, the better they get about subterfuge.  The same issues crop up constantly in our lives, in different guises, and sometimes it takes awhile to realize you’re dealing with the same old thing for the nth time.” I absolutely love this, which explains so exactly where I am in my life, and why I am talking with my therapist again. Tardiness, procrastination, avoidance, insecurity, self-doubt are constant issues, from childhood, and as I stand on the crest of my meno-pausal wave, I’d like to tame these issues a little. I’d like them to be familiar companions, rather than looming, scary monsters on the path beside me, as I walk/scamper/plod/skip down the road that is my life.

•Pretty soon, I’m gonna write my inner child a letter, as a part of the process of de-mystifying the terrors residing in my psyche. I know I can take really good care of folks, whether they be 5 or 41, two-legged or four-legged, and by writing that letter, explaining and demystifying some of the terrifying experiences of childhood, and reassuring her/myself that I can and will always be present with a calm, warm voice and a hand to hold in the dark, maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to turn the monsters in my background into pussycats at the garden gate.

•I’ll probably write a loving letter to Willis, too. His death was sudden and traumatic, if not entirely unexpected, and although I have worked through many issues and talked to him a great deal since his death, we all know how extraordinarily powerful the written word is as a way to move through emotion and come to a place of love, light and understanding.

•I’d better go get my car- they’ve changed this parking lot into a 30-minute limit, and I don’t need another ticket, do I?

The goings on, and an out-of-my-comfort-zone challenge

Rob's not been feeling well - 2 days now of being really sorta pitiful. Maybe it was the mussels, which nobody else ate, on account of their being nasty little things. Our Sunday clean up was even more necessary because "Rob the invalid" had not been doing his usual stirling job of keeping things clean and organized. We’d absolutely fall apart without that man. 

The kids (all 4 of them, plus an overnight houseguest of Sam's) were all corralled into attending to their chore chart duties - I might as well have been asking them to eat dung for the amount of protesting I got. In the end, the house got to look alright, even in the kitchen. Since the kitchen is Rob's purview, the kids complained mightily about the “extra” chore, but I managed to explain that a kitchen piled high with 2 days worth of detritus, dishes and debris was going to make supper a non-event. They all pitched in, and the kitchen looked half way decent when we left to go out for supper (as if I was actually gonna cook; I cleaned - isn’t that enough?). I left Rob wrapped in a kid’s blanket in a sorry bundle on the love seat- I think he was grateful for the reduction in volume at home. Poor guy- at least he

 seemed okay on his birthday the day before.

We did 3 birthday parties this weekend- I guess we’re into that season again. Sometimes I wish Sam wasn’t such an easy-going, likable kid; maybe we’d have to deal with fewer birthday party invitations then.

Sam’s overnight guest (because what Rob really wanted on his birthday was another child- not!) was Evan, who’s a likable kid. He and Sam do pretty well together. They met at after-school care a couple of years ago; we see less of Evan since he moved to another school. Evan's mum called me last minute to arrange a play date, which is a good way to arrange things with me, ‘cause if they’re arranged too far

 in advance, I’ll likely forget, or double book or something; in an aside, she let me know that she and her husband, Evan's dad, are separating. She says it’s mutual and amicable and that they have just fizzled out. Over the rest of the summer, they are going to take turns living in a suite, alternating with living in the house with the kids. I'm shocked and saddened about the whole turn of events- they seemed like a particularly “together” couple- enjoying each other’s company, doing interesting things together. I am having trouble wrapping my head around the idea that two people who are still “good friends” would choose to split up- I just don’t get it. I'm sure there’s more to the story, and it’s not my place to judge, and if I ever have a relationship (other than with Pentax) that lasts more than 3.5 years, maybe I’ll understand, too. but still...

Sunday's birthday party was for Jacob. His mum Carol is a beautiful person, inside and out. She’s one of my favourite people. Jacob's dad is also gorgeous, so Jacob and his younger sister are gorgeous kids, too. Tragedy struck this family when Jacob was 10 months old. His dad was a semi-pro soccer player, and while leaping up to head the ball, was headed in the head by an opponent. Brain injury ensued, and at points during his subsequent hospitalization, he wasn’t expected to survive. He has survived, and in some ways has made a miraculous recovery, but he is definitely brain-injured. Carol had been finding her husband’s increasingly erratic and abusive behaviour more and more difficult to deal with, and she could see how damaging the abuse was for the kids. Eventually, this past winter, she made the heart-breaking decision to have her husband moved back to his mother’s house, which has been viewed as a betrayal of sorts by most of his family. Apparently, life is less stressful at home, but Carol still struggles with the guilt, logistics and ongoing trauma of the original injury, and how it has brought such a brutal disruption to all their lives. I have the barest glimmer of how painful her life has been, and I wish I could do more for her. She was first in line with support when Willis died, and I feel a kinship with her, in a way, and I love her and her kids, and her husband, too, although I don’t know him well. Carol did okay at the birthday party- gracious and gentle, as always. She, like a widow, is coming from a place not so much of “you’re so strong and brave”, but of sheer necessity. She absolutely has no choice but to keep her ship afloat, because her kids are on that ship. Necessity doesn’t preclude desperation, and I see that in her, too. I am going to have to challenge myself to make an absolute commitment to have her kids out here soon, so she can get some down time of some sort.

Maybe this’ll be my opportunity to push myself out of my comfort zone: I really do avoid making and keeping commitments. I absolutely “fly by the seat of my pants” in social situations, household habits, parenting, at work. It’s easier, more familiar, more comfortable this way. Rob is astonishingly regular. I doubt that natural disaster (and certainly not a disaster of a wife) could put him off his regular routine. This is both inspirational and annoying. Alright, there it is, out there in public: my goal for the next week(?) (maybe a day; I’m scared already about this idea) is to make commitments and stick to them, and to make and stick to a routine. Specifically, how about if I get up on time for the rest of the week, get out of the house on time, get Sam to school on time and make a date with Carol to have her kids over here- all this week. That seems doable to me. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Here’s something a little more light-hearted to finish up with:


My kids are so totally adorable!










Some Pampas Grass, up close:





Can you identify this plant?





My sweetie, being hunky, adorable and capable- I do love this man!



This post has rambled all over the place, hasn't it? It rambled kind of unexpectedly into a post I'm gonna use for Julie Pippert's Hump Day Hmm- Comfort Zone. Writing can be such a funny thing.

Dancing with Rabbits

We had so much fun today. The sun was shining and it fell like Spring was around the corner. We took 8 of our pets into the back yard for some sun, air and grass. In fact, only two of our pets did not get to enjoy the opportunity, but they wouldn’t have enjoyed feeling like fish out of water...

Here are some of the pictures I took of us having fun.






Sam, "dancing" with Snowball and Chase.







Chase is our newest family member.







Isn't Sparkles beautiful? She thinks so!






















Snowball relished the opportunity to dig.










Syd, with blankets.










Pentax, who just turned 16. He’s my soulmate. (Don’t tell Rob.)









Claudia, looking inscrutable. She’ll be 16 in a couple of months, and her whiskers are white now.










Salt’n’Pepper- he’d run amok if he was loose.








Snowball and Teddy.










Sparkles and Teddy enjoy an inter-species moment.








Sometimes Jet looks less goofy, but not often...











The kids were making animal "nests" in the alcove by the rocks.










Oliver, one of my step-sons.











Looking east at Mt. Baker, across the strait. We enjoy this view from our sun room/guest room and living room (whenever it stops raining).












We went inside when this Bald Eagle showed up overhead.