So what's your Thang?

Have you ever had the feeling that there's some big purpose to your life, but you just don't know what it is? That there's some big, very specific reason you've been created, that you're meant to fulfill? Like Tiger Woods was created to golf. Like Michael Jordan was created to play basketball. Like Michael Phelps was created to swim fast. I think they're three examples of the few lucky people that actually discover what their Thang* is for the time they're here. It's their Thang and that's why they gain so much fame and accolades from the greater public. I feel like there's something inside all of us that if we're lucky enough to just figure out what it is and pursue it with all our hearts and souls that we could all be MJ's or TW's or MP's of our specific Thangs. But sadly, so many of us live the whole expanse of our lives never knowing what it is, or that it was even there for us at all.

Tonight I'm feeling like I have a Thang Unrealized. I'm not sure what exactly it is, but I think I might already have the general idea...

I spoke before about having tickets to see Marc Broussard. And of course, I failed to report back in any sort of timely manner. Well, better late than never, right?

It. Was. AWESOME. It was the ideal venue; the only way to see a musician like him. It was in one of those little dive, hole-in-the-wall-type places with a cash bar (luckily I had hit the ATM on my way). Just a couple hundred people. Small stage. Very low-tech. Very intimate. Just him and four, maybe five other guys. And we rocked. Right there with him. So cool.

This guy is doing his Thang. At the ripe old age of 26. He has the blues in his genes. He has the ultimate blues/soul voice. He's got a heart and soul from which the most amazing lyrics & melodies emerge**.

It's his purpose. It's his Thang. And he's running with it.

This week I've had him constantly playing on my iPod. And isn't it funny how a song never made much of an impression on you the first 258 times you listened to them, and then all of a sudden it tweaks something inside you and you're all...WOW! Where did that come from?

Here lately his music has been stirring something inside me. Agitating me. Exciting me.

And frustrating me.

I know my Thang is somewhere in the realm of music. I'm a pretty damn good flute player, but my down & dirty musical knowledge is pretty limited. I know how to turn notes on a page into sounds in your ears, but as for writing music or understanding how the music actually got there, I don't have a clue. Gah, how I'm kicking myself for not picking music as my major in college! I'd know all that shit right now.

My performance experience has basically been confined to the classical genre. Eh, throw showtunes, movie soundtracks, oldies-but-goodies in there. But still...sitting in a concert band, or a flute choir, or smaller ensemble.

There's a couple of tracks on Marc's third album S.O.S.: Save Our Soul that has some pretty rockin' flute licks in it. I could SO do that. I could rock it now if you give me a sheet with music on it and a little time to work it up, but I want to know how to just pick it up and go.

Improvisation, baby. Yeah. That's where it's at.

I know my way around a keyboard, too. But again...can only plunk out notes off the page of an old hymnal and such.

Did I mention I can sing, too? I absolutely love to sing. In a formal churchy-type choir, I'm an alto. Could even sing tenor if they'd let me. (Sexists.)

I wanna be a backup singer. Sure, I'd like to step to the front from time to time, but I get major fulfillment out of adding that harmony. I adore harmony. And to be the one that can hear that complimentary melody in my head, add it to what someone else is already singing and bring a whole other aura to the sound is SO COOL.

(Don't ever agree to go to a karaoke bar with me. You'll be there to close the place down, whether you like it or not. I'm just saying...)

And yes, I can sing well. I might be a little rough around the edges stylistically and could definitely use some formal training, but because I have been cursed blessed with close-to-perfect pitch, I know it more than most when someone's out of tune. So most of the time, I'm not. Out of tune, that is.

As an instrumentalist, I've never had much of a desire to be a soloist. You know...like James Galway or Jean-Pierre Rampal. I have no desire to record a full CD of me playing my flute. I love being part of a group. Big or small, it doesn't matter. I love contributing my own unique part to the whole. I love listening to my partners and appreciating what they're adding to the whole.

Jamming, I think it's called. ;-)

Music is my Thang. I know that. But right now it's still unrealized. I believe that's how it should be for now, though. Right now my priorities are elsewhere. But I also think that this new position I'm at in my life will cultivate a plethora of opportunities that will be busting down my door.

This isn't the time, though.

But it's coming.

I feel it.

*HT to Bill Cosby and his children's show "Little Bill" for reminding me that we all have a thaaaaaaaaaaang, however I sorta took the concept a little further.

**Did you listen to his stuff in my earlier post? Did you? DID YOU? Go back and listen now.

NOW. GO ON!

And no, do not collect $200.

Life is good.

I'm starting to feel normal again. Granted, it's a different normal now. My days are starting to feel routine, which in this case, is a good thing. I like the security this routine of life brings me. I like knowing that at 5:00, I get to see my boys. I like knowing that around 5:30, I'll start stressing out over what to make for dinner. I like preparing dinner in my kitchen while the IB runs around playing. He'll come into the kitchen and see steam rising from something on the stove, or see that the oven's on, and say,

"HOT."

But in a whisper, not with his voice. That's the way he's always said that word.

I like chatting with the RK about his day. I like watching the two of them play and making each other laugh. Yeah, that's cool.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The IB and I went grocery shopping Monday night. (The RK had to stay at home to read, since he hadn't done any of his homework during the three hours from the time he got home from school 'til it was time to go to the store. This made him cry. I felt horrible. But the fact is, I would feel even more horrible if he had come along, we all got home around 8:00 PM, and no homework was done yet.) We passed a man in the bread aisle, and all on his own, the IB raises his little hand, and says, "Hi!" The guy said hi back, and we continued on our way. A couple aisles over, in the soup section I believe, we run into the same guy. He grabs a can, and then drops it. The IB witnesses this and says, "Uh oh!" The guy chuckles a little bit, and then states,

"I'm glad he's not mine."

My reply:

"I'm so glad he is mine."

The IB wasn't even misbehaving yet. He was in his prime of IB cuteness. Either this guy was a kid-hater, or else his statement came out far from how he intended it. I have a suspicion he meant that I 'have quite a handful there.' Whatever he meant, I thought I had a pretty great comeback.

I might not have said the same thing back to him if he had made his statement in the freezer section, though. Oy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I got a phone call from the IX at lunchtime yesterday. I guess things are pretty dire in his world right now, because he was calling to ask me for money. He said they're in danger of losing their electricity, and even getting evicted. He actually had the nerve to suggest I cash-advance my credit cards.

No way. Huh-uh. Not a chance.

I told him that I've busted my ass to establish a secure (relatively speaking) financial situation, and that there's no way I'm going to jeopardize it all to bail him out of this crisis he's brought on himself. (Hmmm...seems like I've heard this before somewhere else.) Okay, that last part I didn't say. I think it went more like I wasn't going to jeopardize it to 'help him out.' He agreed with me on that, anyway. I told him that while I just can't give him a big chunk of money, I would be willing to fill his tank from time to time if he needed gas to get to work, and that if his weekends with the boys were in jeopardy because he can't afford to buy the extra groceries, that I could send some groceries with the boys on those weekends.

I'll do whatever I have to to make sure he keeps that job. After all, about half of his paycheck is going straight into my bank account. I can't go without it.

And as for his weekends with the boys, I'll step up to help him keep a good relationship with them going.

I know how hard it must've been for him to make that call. It took him forever to actually give me any clear idea of what it was he was calling about. (Although after the incident last week, I had a pretty good idea already.) It's a shame that he's carrying on the same immature & careless behavior he learned from his mom (whom I'm sure he called, and of course she couldn't help. In fact, she owes money to him. Us, actually. She's a piece of work, really. I'd write more about her, but I just don't really care anymore.)

I actually feel a little sorry for him. I don't know why, but I do. Don't get me wrong, though...there's a huge feeling of vindication in it all, too. Should it go as far as him getting evicted, well...he can just sleep in his car for all I care. I hope it'd be good for him and he might learn something from it. My boys are being well taken care of right here, so they wouldn't have to suffer any major disadvantage from it. And they're all I care about.

And then this one question pops up into my head, but I'm not really sure I want to know his answer to it.

"Is she worth it?"

Hearing about his plight is motivating me to work even harder, too. I have to admit, it feels pretty damn good to have this upper hand on him right now. Granted my situation is far from comfortable, but my bills get paid. And it motivates me to keep working towards improving the quality of life for me and the boys.

Oh, but he better not lose his job. And I absolutely hate the fact that I'm still so dependent on him for that. Grr.

I want to go back to school. I want to be qualified for better, higher-paying jobs. I just have no idea how or when I could do that. Perhaps if I can just hang on for three more years until the IB starts school...just hang on 'til then. Heck...maybe even before that. As he grows & matures, he'll need less and less of my immediate attention to where I could actually take a class or two. (That sounds kinda bad. I hope y'all know what I mean.)

I'm also contemplating doing a big sell-off on the internet of stuff around the house. I have a feeling I could bring in quite a nice little chunk of change if I did.

Today, though, we have a cozy home. Food in our bellies. We have each other. We're good for now.

Chapter 2: Potential Unrealized

I don't really think about him in an emotional way anymore. Well, not so much. It doesn't really create a physical reaction like it used to. The fact is, this was nothing as earth-shattering as my divorce was. It was pretty easy for me to continue on with life as usual.

But I missed the text messages we'd exchange all day. So many of them, in fact, I had to increase my text plan from 300/month to 1000. I've heard some people express their dislike for texting...how impersonal, blah, blah, blah, it is. But I think it's a deeply personal and intimate way of communication. I started feeling this way when I was able to sneak a peek at the IX's phone at one point while he was still living here, and read the intimate texts between him and her. It made me extremely jealous...the type of jealousy that it should be me he's sending those texts to.

So when P and I got into this texting thing, I loved every bit of it. The fact that wherever he was, whatever he was doing, he could open his phone and find a note from me. It's not as obtrusive or potentially inopportune as a phone call. He could read it when it was convenient without interrupting anything. No one else would see it, and everyone would wonder what it was that brought that smile to his face. He could be right in the middle of a meeting at work, sitting on a plane before the cabin door was closed, sitting on a plane just after landing...turning his phone back on and finding it. Or them. Just a wonderful little way to let each other know we're in each other's thoughts.

One of my favorite and most memorable text exchanges (besides this one) involved him sending some totally disgustingly sappy expression of his love for me. Then he immediately sent another one that said something to the effect of, "Can't you feel the love?" To which I replied, "Yeah, so much so I'm about to lose my lunch." His response to this was, "You are AWESOME."

We loved making fun of ourselves, because we both acknowledged the fact that our behavior was what we always make fun of in others. Such a blast.

He got me to play poker for the first time with some of his buddies at work. It was a lot of fun, even though I came down with a stomach bug while I was there and felt like total shit the second half of the night. He drove me home, stayed by my side, and took care of me in my pathetic and completely unattractive state the whole next day.

I helped him with his English, and he helped me with my Spanish. He frequently spoke of taking me to Mexico to meet all his familia. And to the beach.

We were completely capable of expressing anything that was on our minds.

One way we did that, (again with the disgusting sappiness) was through sharing songs with each other. He had a folder on his computer filled with all the songs that made him think of me. The name of the folder was "Texas." (That was his nickname for me. Well, one of them. The other one he gave me while we were in Chicago. "Guera", which is a nickname Mexicans have for those that are fair-skinned.)

We discussed in-depth what we should to for birth control. It was unanimous that condoms SUCK. (My mom says they're like taking a bath with your socks on.) We decided I was going to get an IUD. Fine with me...I loved the idea of 'set it and forget it.' I even had made my appointment at the doctor's.

So then towards late April, I started catching a different vibe from him. I could tell it from his texts. (I guess this is the part that will offer evidence for those who decry the medium so much.) So he ended up texting me that things just weren't going to work out between us, and that I did nothing wrong. This was a Sunday in early May, and he was flying out the next morning for work. I asked him to talk about it with me, and he said he'd call me when he got to his hotel room the next night.

What our conversation boiled down to was that he was worried about his girls (still very young...kindergarten and preschool-aged). He said he's had some red flags go up from what they were saying about life at their mother's house, and that he wanted to devote all of his attention to them. He was going to lobby his ex to begin taking the girls every weekend.

Now I had already started letting him into my boys' lives. I spoke about that earlier. But I had been noticing that he never made any plans with me that would bring me around the girls. I didn't really care too much about it, because things were going so well between us otherwise. I just thought that it just wasn't time for him yet, and I was OK with that. So now he's to the point where he wants to start keeping the girls every weekend, and it turns out there's no place for me in the equation at all. He said he's just scared. I have no choice but to accept this.

So I start noodling around the dating site again, and here's where his reason was revealed as an excuse.

Yup, there he was.

Huh.

I sent him a long email calling him out on it, and how he had proved himself to not be of the character I thought he was. I apologized for anything I might've done or not done that led him to this, and I thanked him for everything...my birthday weekend, and the amazing generosity he had demonstrated with me throughout the course of our time together. I closed it by saying,

"I've learned a lot from this experience. I sincerely hope you've done the same.

Saludos,

Trish"

I still think often about what in the world could've caused him to do this, and many different ideas enter my mind. The most prominent one, however, comes from an incident that happened one weeknight a few weeks earlier when he came over for dinner.

I was not in the greatest state of mind, thoughts of what a failure I am swirling around my head. My kitchen was a total mess, and that, among everything else I felt like I was failing at around this house, got the better of me. I sorta wigged out in the kitchen. The RK was working on his homework at the dining table, and P was on the couch watching TV. It made for a very awkward tension in the air for P. (A few days later, I asked the RK how it made him feel, and he didn't feel the same way. I guess he had just gotten used to it happening from time to time.)

P & I talked about it that night after the boys were in bed, and basically I told him that he needs to let me have my bad days. He agreed that's true.

I guess the one thing that I would want from someone close to me would be not for him to freeze up and let the awkwardness take over, but to come to me and address it right then and there. Offer his assistance; be it encouragement, comforting, or helping me get it all done. But he just sat there, feeling awkward.

And I think that even though we seemed to discuss it completely, it was never settled in him.

That's my main theory, anyway. All the other ones I have don't make as much sense. They're trite and shallow and not even worth mentioning.

I tend to think it was either theory #1, or something I know nothing about.

Whatever...

I still think we had so much going for us. I think there was much fun to be had, and a bright future for us. But again, I'm saying this without knowing the whole truth about why he ended it.

I wonder how things went on his second adventure on the dating site. I wonder how the new people he met stacked up against me. I wonder how & when he thinks of me now. 'Cuz I know he does. We had something amazing going, and I bet he's at least slightly haunted by the memories we made.

I still wonder, but I moved on. Now what mostly resides in my mind are the questions. But I have faith that it's the right thing, even if I don't understand why. My time will come. My prince will enter.

I have faith.

Oh no, here she goes...

I have so much to be thankful for. I happened upon a statistic today that was quite disturbing. According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, the July 2008 unemployment rate in the state of Michigan was 8.5%. That's 51st out of 51. The unemployment rate for Texas was 4.7%, which, shockingly, ranks 20th. I would've thought it would be much closer to the top. South Dakota has the top spot with a rate of 3.0%.

I also found a chart with historical highs and lows for each state. For the historically highest unemployment rate, Michigan once again takes the prize, with the shocking number of 16.9% back in November 1982. WOW. I'm glad I wasn't around here then. I've heard stories that there used to be a sign on the interstate heading out of Flint that said something like, "Would the last one out please turn out the lights."

I've also been keeping up with the rather contrary state of existence in my much-beloved and much-missed hometown of Midland, TX. According to the July 2008 Unemployment Rates for Metropolitan Areas, Midland ranks 11th in the nation with a rate of 3.1%, and Odessa is 20th with 3.7%. Ann Arbor, in comparison, is 272nd in the nation at 6.9%, which is higher than the national average of 6.1%.

Oh, how thankful I am for my job! Because of my own little microcosm of turmoil and upheaval, I was forced right out into the biggest economic turmoil and upheaval in the nation, with no degree and no recent job experience to speak of. But God took care of me. My job certainly isn't glamorous, and I certainly don't get paid very much, but it's still a good deal more than min. wage. My house isn't in foreclosure. My babies' bellies are nice and full as they sleep in their warm little cozy beds. My debt, while more than I care for it to be, is not beyond hope, and is not substantially growing. My budget to keep my tank full of gas is nominal (relatively speaking), since I have all of a four-mile round-trip commute.

God takes care of us everyday.

Watching the news these last couple of days has definitely started the wheels turning in my head. These giant financial brokers on the brink of disaster is quite....umm....interesting. As is the decision of the fed to bail them out. Gah. How did this happen?

Before I delve into that, I'm going to tell you a story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once upon a time, a long, long, long, long...OK, it was March of 1973...a little baby girl was born. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and the apple of her parents' eyes. She had no idea of the prosperity that blessed the region into which she was born known as the Permian Basin. Oil was spewing out the bland, dry, mesquite-covered land like fountains on the Las Vegas strip . And money was spewing out of banks and savings & loans. Her father was right in the middle. Life was good. Great. The bubble was growing.

And then one day, the bubble popped. The little girl was now about 10 or so. The fountains ran dry. Once-sparkly, busy, prosperous office buildings that defined the city's skyline, were left to the elements. Even the legendary cornerstone of the local economy, The First National Bank of Midland, went belly-up. Her parents worked really hard to shelter her from any hardship that might be coming her way, but she still knew enough to understand that things were going to change when she overheard her father utter the word "bankruptcy" to her mother. Her father made a change in direction for his career, and as she entered into teenage-dom, she wasn't able to have all the cool designer fashions as the other kids at school...Guess? and Z Cavaricci jeans, five Swatches each complete with SwatchGuards on her arm. She didn't get a car for her 16th birthday and was forced to share her mother's hopelessly un-cool 1978 Oldsmobile which was so monstrous, it barely fit in the garage. She didn't know it at the time, but her mother's plans for her be a Symphony Debutante were nixed.

While nothing was being handed to her on a silver platter, she was a happy girl. She was actively involved in her high school's marching band, experiencing thrilling things such as traveling to our nation's capital to march for our new President. She got to spend three years at The Greatest University in the nation, The University of Texas, until once again, these financial pressures brought it to an end.

Today, she is a well-rounded, responsible woman with children of her own, who has been blessed with a unique and useful perspective of feast vs. famine. She has gained much wisdom through these experiences. She has learned how not to live beyond her means. She has learned how to find happiness in other places than Stuff. And she is so thankful that while she is in the midst of another terrible and destructive economic recession, she has enough for the time being. And she is at peace.

The End.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back to the collapse of the country's financial giants: Just how did it happen?

My theory: Sub-prime mortgages and other frivolous lending tactics. This country is driven to have Stuff, whether or not we can afford it. And when things are going good, the banks and financial brokers will dole out money to people, who at the time don't have any adequate means to pay it back. They all just assume things will keep heading in the same direction, and it'll just fall in their laps. Then when that doesn't happen...

How in the world did this society get to a place where it became totally acceptable to borrow so much dang money? What ever happened to cash on the barrelhead? Yes, I have a mortgage. And no, I would not have this beautiful house without being able to borrow the money to purchase it. At the time I purchased this house with the IX, I was fully planning on living in it with him, and not having to pay for it on my own. It's not a big fancy über-luxurious place. My neighbors are almost right on top of me. It's covered in...ack...siding. And it pretty much looks just like every other house in the neighborhood. We probably could've been approved for one of the sub-prime mortgages for a much grander dwelling, but we didn't even go down that road. We got a standard, 30-year fixed mortgage. We purchased what at the time, we could afford. And now it just so happens that I find myself facing a lot of hard work to keep it that way.

Anyway...we are a nation of borrowers. We don't like the concept of delayed gratification. And look at where it has gotten us. AGAIN.

I want a deck on the back of my house sooooo bad. But I'm not going to borrow to get it. I haven't bought a stitch of new clothing since I started going on job interviews. (And boy, do I need some new clothes. I dropped four sizes during my divorce and just about everything in my closet would either fall right off of me or swallow me up.) My boys don't have tons of clothes, and what they do have, are hand-me-downs, came from a resale shop, Target, or Meijer. I can't remember the last time I set foot in the mall.

I have no intention of becoming one of the casualties, and I'm thankful that my life experiences have led me to understand a little bit about how it happens. I'm not afraid to buckle down and do what it takes to maintain my 'meager' (by some standards) way of life, all the while thinking I could just about be the richest woman on the planet. Oh, I've got big plans for the future, don't get me wrong. And no, I don't know exactly how I'm going to bring them to fruition.

But let me put it this way...I know how I'm not going to do it.

A chip off the old block

I find it quite interesting that during the course of this blog, I have only mentioned once or twice something that is such a huge part of me. (Here is the only place I've ever gone into any detail about it.)

This is something that has really defined me. Playing the flute was my thang. Not just my thing, but my thang. And I was good. Really good. I was the first alternate for the all-state band in my area my senior year of high school. I played in church. I played in college. Before moving across the metro Detroit area a couple years back, having another baby, and then getting divorced and becoming a single mom, I was actually working to start up a bit of a career at it. I played in a flute choir for five or so years. When my dad passed away, I spent somewhere in the neighborhood of $6000 on my dream flute with the leftover insurance money (after paying off my car and credit cards). I played in a couple of weddings, and got an amazing gig playing in a nearby suburb's 16-performance production of The Music Man. I actually earned about $600 for that! I was a member of the National Flute Association, as well as a much smaller regional flute networking group that had a flute choir that I participated in. I even attended the NFA's annual convention in Washington D.C. a few years back.

It's my passion.

But when the shit really hit the fan in my life, I had to prioritize. And that was the first thing to go. I've missed it. That beautiful instrument has been sitting. Collecting dust. Quite sad. I'm just now starting to feel like everything else might be getting in order enough that I could think about dusting it off again.

But that's not my point of this post. The last sentence of the section of the post I linked to earlier is.

"I'm hoping I can get the RK to follow in my bandgeeky ways."

The RK thus far hasn't shown any interest in music, as a listener, or a performer. I've been quite disappointed in that, but just for my own selfish reasons. He's got to find his own thang, and I've accepted the fact that music just might not be it. He's drifting in a more techy, science-geek direction. He loves the later Star Trek series-es. He can watch the Discovery Channel all the live-long day. He loves studying weather radar maps on the computer. He asks me questions about nature on a daily basis that I don't have a clue how to answer. Despite my own personal letdown, it's been so cool watching him pick his own direction in life.

He just started the fifth grade. In this school district, fifth grade is when they start the kids on musical instruments. I don't think it's mandatory, but my impression is that the majority of the kids go through it. The RK has been rather cool to the whole thing; that is, until the time for his fitting approached. He got so excited about it, even calling me at work the other day to ask if I had gotten the call from the band technician about setting up the appointment yet. So I'm getting pretty excited at this point. It's so great to see my child so excited about something like this!

Yesterday was the big day. For the fitting during the school day, I told him to at least make a sound on every instrument, even though he had already picked clarinet & violin as his first two choices. He said OK. Then when we went back up to the school last night, he got to mess around on a few more (I even made him try to make a sound on a flute). The big winner was the trombone, of all things! He said he had tried one earlier in the day, but when he picked it up last night, he got an amazing sound on it right off the bat! The technician said it was the best sound he had heard from any of the students. So of course, the RK starts getting really excited.

So out of the school we came, the RK carrying a brand new (to him) trombone! And he is just so proud of it. He started working through the the method book & DVD this morning, and is already making progress.

My dream is coming true! However, there still might be one little hiccup in my diabolical plan. The RK has said he does not want to be in the marching band. Whaha? But...but...I WANNA BE A BAND MOM!!! I'm still not too worried about it at this point, because marching doesn't start until ninth grade. I told him not to rule it out at this point, because it's still a long way off. To improve my chances of the diabolical plan coming to fruition, I will probably take the RK to some of the high school football games so he can watch the high school band at halftime. Perhaps that will light a fire in him.

All in all, yesterday was quite a milestone in the RK's life. And I'm just about the happiest mom in the universe! Even if he ends up not pursuing it long-term, it's still going to play a big role in defining who he is and what he will become.

It's so cool seeing him with a trombone. I guess because I had never tried to picture it before, it looks kind of strange at this point. Also, that whole 'defining who he is' thing. I'm wondering if this will really be a something that defines him like the flute did for me?

Finding out will be fun...

The Year of La Vida Loca

Greetings blogosphere! Gosh, where do I start? That itch to divulge all these thoughts, ideas, opinions, and ramblings going on in my head has been growing to a point where I need to scratch it. So I'm scratching it.

So how the heck is everyone? Is anyone even still out there? Have I been away so long that that I've finally slipped out of my former readers' minds? I guess I have a lot of ground to make up since my last entry exactly 233 days ago.

But I feel like prioritizing my life is crucial. And given the new chapter my life began last winter, keeping up with this blog was just not possible. Working a full-time job and then coming home to take care of my two precious boys had proven to be indescribably time-consuming and....well, exhausting. As I grow older, the one thing I'm discovering is that the first place I start to feel exhaustion is my mind. When all is said and done at the end of a long day, my babies are tucked snugly into their cozy beds, and I would finally have the opportunity to sit in front of my trusty little computer and write, my brain was well on its way to termination of all activity for the day. Trust me...you probably wouldn't have had any idea what I was saying if I had even tried!

But now, I'm starting to feel like I'm getting a handle on this new life of mine. The sense of being completely overwhelmed is receding somewhat, and progress is being made. Slowly, but surely. Right now I'm feeling quite encouraged.

This past weekend was just me and the RK. I asked the IX if he could only take the IB for this weekend so the RK and I could dig out his bedroom from the insane, massive amounts of junk and dust it had succumbed to over the course of the last couple of years. And now, it's beeeee-u-ti-ful. The RK and I have made a pact to not let it get to the state it was in again.

We filled up four garbage bags full of crap. Lots of toys with missing integral parts, strange random little objects that neither of us had any idea where they had come from, etc. And we passed down quite a few objects to the IB. A bunch of stuff went from one bedroom closet over to the other. Lots of books. A few toys. A sizeable amount of stuffed animals. Anyway, the RK and I both have a very satisfied and accomplished feeling tonight over that bedroom. And now, I just need to get my room taken care of. I'm so ashamed of its condition, I don't even care to speak of it. {Shudder}

The RK and I really needed this weekend to spend with just each other. The IB takes up so much of my attention, and often a lot of the RK's as well. So it was really nice to have it just the two of us. We went out to dinner last night, where he wolfed down a full-sized adult burger. He said it was the best burger he'd ever had. Yesterday we ended up being lazy all day, watching movies, napping, playing Wii (that he got for his birthday from my mom back in June). We didn't have to worry about keeping tabs on the incredible two-year-old force of destruction that is the IB. We need to do this on a regular basis, I think. Before the IB came along, it was just the RK for nine years; but what I think is kinda cool is that he and I both agreed it's really hard to remember what that was like now. And in a good way...neither of us really miss it all that much!

So in the interest of not going for the longest post in the history of the blogosphere, I'm going to try to catch up on everything that has gone on in my life this year in subsequent posts, but I'll hit the big points briefly in this initial re-introduction.

First up, my job. It's still going well, but it's had its ups and downs. I've been working really hard to integrate into the dynamics of the office, with mixed results. It turns out I came in right before a huge and unplanned shake-up in how things were being run, and because of that, I, as the very lowest man on the totem pole, ended up taking quite a bit of heat as revelations came out and adjustments had to be made. But I'm still there. And more determined than ever. Again...details to follow.

Next, P. We had a really good run of it until early May. Really good. And then, all of a sudden, he felt the need to come up with some lame excuse about why it wasn't going to work out, and that was that. (Again...details to follow.) I was very hurt and confused, but compared to what I had gone through with my divorce, it wasn't all that difficult to pick up and carry on with life as usual.

..so at that point, the idea of a fun, exciting summer was at the forefront of my mind, and I decided to re-up my subscription on the dating site for a month. I met a few guys, but nothing panned out to bring that 'summer' idea to fruition. And now at this point, I'm perfectly happy flying solo...cuz ya know what? Dating is stressful! I've really been enjoying just being me, not freaking out over all my insecurities, not having the anxiety that comes with starting to let someone brand new into my life. Or shall I say, our lives.

OK, there I hit the biggest points, and will expound on them more in future posts. As well as add some others. I'm gonna keep writing, though, and hope that some of my previous readers will find their way back here (perhaps with a few new ones as well). Because I have been thinking of you, and keeping up with your tales...at least a few of you. So anyway, if any of you did happen to keep this feed in your readers, drop me a comment and say hi! You have no idea how that would thrill me. Maybe I'll finally come completely out of the shadows and start dropping a few comments of my own as well...

And I climb out from under my rock...

Hello dear friends,

Yes, I am still around and kicking, just not out in the blogosphere. In fact, my poor computer has been rather neglected all the way around since I started my job!

Please accept my most humble apologies for ignoring you like this. I have received all your inquiries, and I have no excuse for not responding...but I have been touched and uplifted to know you guys are thinking of me and have come to care so much about what's going on in my life!

So the job is going GREAT. The company I work for makes customized magnification 'loupes' for dentists and surgeons. I am a customer service rep, so the majority of my work day is spent answering the phones, taking customer orders for parts, repair requests, answering questions, etc. And I love it! I'm wired for customer service, and I love taking care of issues, solving problems, and making the customers' experiences enjoyable all the way around. I can see myself working for this company for a long time.

This job is so perfect on so many levels...the best part is what I mentioned above, but now for what I consider more like the 'perks': I can wear jeans to work if I want! They're only my FAVORITE article of clothing in the world. The commuting distance is a huge plus as well. Generally speaking, the people I work with are wonderful, with only the typical workplace issues to deal with. And I was prepared for that.

And now for the "Back on the dating scene" update. M just quit calling me all of a sudden, and that was that. While I'm curious to know what was going through his mind, I just blew him off right back. And I guess B didn't like the way I neglected to contact him for a few days during my Thanksgiving craziness, so he too blew me off. Fair enough. I never even met him in person.

But P...well...whaddya know. Our chemistry is definitely a face-to-face thing, because once I gave him that second chance, it's been all downhill from there! Remember I mentioned he hurt his knee playing soccer not too long before we met...well, he had to have surgery on it in mid-December, and his parents came up from Mexico City to help out during and after the surgery. They stayed for a whole month, and it was a good thing. His recovery was a lot harder than he was expecting, and he couldn't have done it all by himself.

Anyway, he had me over for dinner one night, which his mom cooked. :-) It was such a great night, and even though there was quite a large language barrier there (I attempted to speak as much Spanish as I could, but it certainly wasn't as much as I would've hoped), we all enjoyed each other's company immensely! We ate incredible authentic Mexican food, played dominoes, and cards, and laughed and laughed and laughed. It was amazing.

Oh, I have so many stories to tell about P...and the time we've spent together...just can't do it all here at one time. But I can give you a brief outline:

• First kisses are the best!
• He spoils me rotten, and loves doing it.
• He says he didn't think he'd ever be able to feel like this again.
• 53rd kisses are the best!
• He sent me the most incredible text message I've ever gotten back on Jan. 8th: "I enjoyed it too...Ur laugh is out of this world... I can't believe we talked until midnight... U r dangerous...I think my fall is inevitable..."
• Yeah, that made me melt. And I was at work!
• When he found out the RK was spending this past Thursday night with his dad since there was no school yesterday, he showed up at my house, bearing flowers, right after he knew I would've just gotten the IB to bed.
• And we were unable to say goodbye until 3:00 AM.
• Time just stands still when we're together.

Oh, I could keep going...

I don't know what's going to happen with this blog. I really want to get going back in the flow of this, but I just don't know if it's possible right now. Maybe this post will spark it back up again...who knows? Keep me in your RSS readers, though...just in case!

And again...I really appreciate all your emails and comments during my absence. And look...if you stick with it, I'll eventually come around! Hugs to all of you!

My heart overflows

Exactly 52 weeks ago today, I had my husband of nine and a half years served with divorce papers.

Thanksgiving 2006 was the first one not spent with him in attendance in ten years, maybe a couple more than that. And it was actually a really nice day. SH was gracious enough to invite the boys and me to her family's festivities at her mom's house for the day. And her mom and dad were indeed just as gracious, if not more so, for welcoming us into their home and including us as family for the day. And really, I have only nice, happy memories of the day, despite the overhanging heartbreak of what I knew had gone on just the day before.

I remember pondering what my life would look like a year from then. And it's hard for me to believe I've arrived at that time! While the envisioned particulars don't match the real ones, I think emotionally and spiritually I'm where I hoped I'd be. I still have my occasional rough days (or weeks), but for the most part, I'm happy, my boys are happy, the emotional paralysis has lifted, and my life, while still somewhat uncertain and far from perfect, is fun.

I'm proud that I've managed to leave that old stifling and limiting comfort zone behind.

I'm proud of all that I've learned in the past year. In so many different subjects.

I'm proud of finding the courage and daringness (and yes, that's a real word...I looked it up) to be proactive in bringing new people into my life, and getting myself back out there into the busy, functional, exciting, rewarding world that had been stolen from me much longer ago than I realized.

I'm proud that my vision has been un-blinded to my potential. And what I really deserve.

I'm free to be me.

Thanks be to God!

...for His unwavering strength. That He so willingly shares.
...for His neverending comfort.
...for His unshakeable, unbreakable, perfect love.
...for His always adequate provision.

Tomorrow, the RK, the IB and I will not be going anywhere. Thanksgiving 2007 is going to be spent here in this house, just the three of us. And while this would normally be very disturbing and depressing to me (and it got the better of me for a while a few days back), I've decided to do what I have to do to make this a special day for this family. I'm cooking the whole shebang. I started preparing dishes last night, and have continued throughout the day today.

My mom's dressing, which is my absolute favorite part of the feast, and it just wouldn't be Thanksgiving without it? Check.

The lime jello/pineapple/cream cheese/chopped pecans dish which my brother dubbed "Green Gunk" before I was even born? Check.

Pecan pie? Check.

The sweet potatoes are baked, and will soon be peeled and mashed into a massive quantity and variety of sugar that somehow can be called a 'casserole.'

And this year, I am once again stepping out of a comfort zone.

Every year of my adult life thus far, I have managed to get myself out of preparing a turkey. But this year, if we're gonna have turkey, it's up to me! And I was pleasantly surprised to find a cute little 9lb. turkey at the grocery store on Sunday! So I've been studying my Betty Cr0cker and Better H0mes and Gardens cookbooks, and I'm jumping in to the world of body cavities, giblets, and all that other turkey stuff.

I had another job interview this afternoon. It was for a 'customer service representative' job with a company I had emailed my resume to sometime last week. Yesterday, I received a call to come in and interview. We scheduled the meeting for 1:00 today, and when she told me where this place was located, I just laughed. I can't remember if I mentioned before how that previous job I interviewed for was only a mile and a half from my house. Well, this company is once again just down the road! So I got a neighbor to watch the boys for a while this afternoon, and went. I was surprised to find three other women already in there filling out the same paperwork I was handed as I entered. As the process went on, I learned that they're interviewing an entire mob for this one position! Oh great. We were told that by sometime next week we'd hear back if they wanted to call us back in for a second interview. She also mentioned they'd be calling only four of us back.

We had the chance to speak with the interviewer on a one-on-one basis, and then with her supervisor after that. And I could tell they both really liked me, and while nothing's a sure thing, I walked out of there feeling pretty encouraged that I could be expecting a phone call next week. And I drove home with the anxiety already starting to well in me, and realized this was going to be there throughout the long holiday weekend.

But the anxiety was quickly squashed around 7:15 this evening, when my phone rang. It was the interviewer, on her cell phone, as she was walking out of the building to her car. She was calling because she was leaving on a business trip in the middle of next week, and...

...wait for it...

...she wanted to go ahead and schedule my second interview!!!!!!!!!!!

YES! YES! YES!

So 11:00 Monday morning, I'll be heading back in!

What an amazing joy this is. Just to know that this girl is appealing as a potential employee. And to have the encouraging thought that maybe my days of total financial dependence are coming to an end. How great it is that I don't have to have that pit of anxiety nagging at me during my holiday.

Tomorrow could easily pass by as just another day on the calendar in this household. But it won't.

Tomorrow, my boys and I are going to Give Thanks.

Frankly, my fingers have been a little tired

I just haven't been in a very bloggy mood this last couple of weeks, I hope y'all understand. And actually, I've been doing enough typing on this thing to cover my blogging ways...

You see, I decided I wanted a better picture of myself for my profile on the online dating site. I got out my tripod, and managed to capture a shot of me that belongs on the back of a book jacket or on a CD cover. And ever since, I've had guys swarming around me...well, my inbox, anyway! And I've been ferociously sending and receiving emails and talking on the phone 'til the wee hours of the morning for the past week or so! And it has been so much fun! I've already had to break a couple of hearts, and I'm in process of putting together a very busy weekend.

I'll get into more detail about my suitors a little later...

...but I also have some more news to share.

It's looking like my unemployment woes are over! The recruiter I met with a while back gave me call with a potential temp job. So I went in for an interview a week ago today, and it turns out this job is just a mile and a half from where I live! I learned that they really liked me, more than the other candidate the recruiter sent their way, but right now they're trying to decide if they want to hire me on a part-time or full-time basis. And like I said, as of right now, this job is only a three-month assignment, with potential to go permanent. My job would be helping them get themselves dug out from all the purchase orders they're swamped with...lots of data entry. And my plan is to go in there and bust my tail to make it so they can't live without me.

So while I don't have my hopes up just yet, I'm counting that problem as solved. Now for IB-care...

Our subdivision has its own blog, where residents can post about garage sales, BBQ's, make inquiries of their neighbors, etc. I had made a short post about needing childcare, and how I'd love to find someone within the sub (especially since my potential job is so close) that would be willing to look after my little guy. I got a response back from another family who had posted a similar post a while back, and they gave me the name and number of their sitter, who lives a relatively long way away...much further than this job will be, anyway. And not long after that, another post showed up on the blog from a woman who said she's decided to go back to being a stay-at-home mom and do childcare from her home! ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? In the comment I made to give her my email address, I suggested she was sent from heaven! The IB and I are going over to her house in a little while to meet with her.

So it's looking like everything is just falling right into place. While I'm feeling a certain level of relief, I'm not counting on this job until I get the call to come in and start filling out my IRS forms. I don't know where this month's mortgage payment is coming from yet, but I know that this too will work out somehow.

That's all for now. I promise to not go this long without posting anymore! And to all you guys who are my regulars around here, know that I've been keeping up with y'all and reading your latest goings-on! Have a wonderful Monday, all!

Remember me?

Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?

Matthew 6: 25-27

Just wanted to let anyone out there know that I'm still around, and hanging in there. Sorry I haven't posted in over a week. I've been spending my computer time searching job listings and applying...I'd guess I'm up to somewhere close to 25 resumes being sent out. I applied with the UM temp pool, so hopefully they'll get my app processed this week and they'll find me something on campus somewhere if hell doesn't freeze over and I'm not offered a permanent job right off the bat. My resume is also posted on M0nster.com as well as the local job search agent, and I've applied for a handful of jobs from those sites.

The fear and anxiety is really starting to take hold, because I have now sponged off my ex-husband for the last time. And for my grand finale, I really cleaned him out. So hopefully I can get some of my cc balances shrunk, and perhaps pay my lawyer some of the balance I owe her. But as for the mortgage payment coming up, and other bills I can't stand the thought of being late or delinquent on, I have no idea what's gonna happen.

I've also been researching the procedures for getting on WIC and food stamps. It's a shot to the ego, for sure, but there's no way I'm gonna let my babies go hungry. I'm calling DishNet. today to bump our channel package way down, and I think I might even give their new satellite-based internet access a try. It's a lot cheaper than what I'm paying for cable access.

The RK is home sick today. He's acquired another one of his coughs that sounds like an old, sick dog gasping his last breaths. The last time this happened, he never really got sick, and the cough started loosening up the next day. Hopefully it'll remain true to form. He's probably good to go to school, but I don't think his teacher would think so if she could hear him. So he's got a free day today.

Allrighty then...looks like the IB is done with his canned peach half and he's ready to terrorize my living room. For those of y'all that are of the prayin' kind, remember me, wouldja?

Oh yeah...on the update & the "Yay me!" fronts, I got my new printer installed, and it's one of those that has the flatbed scanner for making copies and sending faxes. And the bonus of it all is....my print server works with it! Which means I can get something printed without having to haul the laptop into the other room and plug it in to the printer. I can keep my little butt parked right here on the couch, expel all the effort it takes to click on the "print" button, and after a few seconds, I hear the printer kick into action in the other room! THAT'S SO COOL!

Where were you?

What were you doing? How did you learn of it? And what did you feel?

It's hard to believe it's already been six years since our sense of security...or rather, our

complacency...was destroyed. Destroyed with the carefully-arranged tons of concrete and metal that represented all that this country stands for. Free trade, fair commerce, prosperity, hard work.

The RK was a sweet little four-year-old. The IB was still far off in my future. I was a women's Bible study facilitator for a group that met at church on Friday mornings, and I had just sat down at the dining room table to play catch-up on the lesson that I had to lead discussion about that following Friday. The RK was sitting comfortably on the couch watching PBS. I remember this was the first week of the Bible study, and I was mad at myself for already letting myself get behind.

Around 9:00 AM, my phone rings. It's my mom.

"Hi Mom! What's going on?"

"Are you watching the news?"

"No, of course not! [The RK] has reign over the TV, of course."

"Turn on the news...it's just terrible..."

So I go and commandeer the TV remote, turning on the Today show. The second plane had just hit the south tower of the World Trade Center. Once I overcame the immense shock, realizing this was actually happening, the first words out of my mouth to my mom were, "I bet this was the work of Osama bin Laden."

She said, "Who?"

I reminded her of the various attacks abroad that had killed Americans...the Khobar Towers, the embassies in Kenya & Tanzania, the U.S.S. Cole. He was credited with all those.

Mom and I stayed on the phone for a little while longer, watching the horror unfold on our TV screens. Then I decided I better call the IX. I discover that my cell service is having issues, all the way over in Michigan. I finally get through to my husband, and he immediately starts telling me about how there's no power at work, and he thinks they're about to get the day off. Somehow I interject to tell him what has happened.

I sit there, staring at the TV in disbelief, not exactly knowing what to do. I have moments of sobbing, moments of inspiration. And the RK doesn't quite know what to make of me. He had never seen me behave in such ways. That freaked him out more than what he was watching with me on TV. After all, what he was watching was something we all see on TV everyday. But up until this point, it was always in movies, TV shows...works of fiction.

If you ask him what he remembers of that day, that's it. Not the attack itself, but his mommy's reaction.

I remember how there was such hope that there could be survivors amidst all that rubble. Desperately wanting to do something to help, anything, I put the RK in the car and drove to our local Red Cross office, hoping to donate blood. It was closed, but I was later able to make an appointment for the next day. There was another guy who got there the same time I did, with the same thing in mind. I wonder how many more people drove over there that day with the same thing in mind.

I've never been able to successfully donate blood. But given the circumstances, I was determined. The next morning, I ate a good breakfast beforehand, and went to try to contribute in some small way. But alas, I still wasn't able to fill a full pint bag before I started breaking out in a cold sweat, hearing the high-pitched hum in my ears, sparkly spots before my eyes. I'm still not sure if that's a physical or psychological response...but whatever it is, it makes me mad.

Afterwards, in the cookie-and-juice area, I just cried. Cried over my failure. Cried for perhaps that one person who I could've helped save by sharing my blood. Just cried.

In the coming days, we'd learn that such a need for blood, extra emergency workers, medical personnel, equipment, etc., would not be needed after all. If I remember correctly, something like only six survivors were pulled from that rubble? Whatever it was, the number definitely wasn't more than just two digits.

I remember a few days after that, when I was having dinner with my family, the ABC evening news with Peter Jennings was on the TV. And the last shot of the news was from London. It was tape shot at Buckingham Palace, where the royal band played the Star-Spangled Banner. When it was over, it cut back to Peter Jennings, a Canadian, mind you, who was noticeably choked up. As was I.

So now it's six years later. I'm a mom of two now. And divorced. I have my own house. Peter Jennings is no longer with us. We still haven't caught the evil bastard that did this to us. But life has gone on. Things are different now, but slowly, this country has fallen into a new state of normal, including the family members of those that perished that day.

So now, I offer my best wishes to the almost 3000 different groups of families and friends whose lives were turned upside-down on this date six years ago. You all are in my thoughts today, and most definitely my prayers. I hope today isn't too painful for you, and I hope your lives are so blessed.

So that's my personal story. I'd love to hear yours, if you're willing to share it. What are the memories that stick out the most in your mind from that day, and how has your life changed these past six years?

One whole trip around the sun

Dear sweet Itty Bitty,

You took your exit from the comfort and security of my womb exactly one year ago today. And oh, how you've already changed so much! Your first days amongst us were difficult, trying, so scary. You came out of me in one fell swoop at 4:04 PM. And you didn't cry. To this day, I feel a sadness in my heart for not hearing that strong, healthy, gutteral cry from you. Because I knew that it was more than likely my fault. But eventually, I could hear soft little grunts coming from somewhere underneath all those doctors working feverishly to bring you fully to life. And I got to say hi and introduce myself; we got to see each others' faces for the first time.

You spent the first five days of your life in a big room with heartbreakingly sick babies for neighbors. You heard beeps, chimes, strangers' voices. You had a big ol' needle poked in your arm held in place with lots and lots of tape all over. You had little sticky things on your chest. And occasionally, a tube stuck up your nose. You even endured a spinal tap.

Even though my body was so tired & sore, the only place I wanted to be was by your little bed, holding you in my arms.

I remember how I loved to watch your little computer screen that was monitoring your heart rate, your breathing. Your father was often there, as was your proud new big brother. We would all take turns holding you for a little while. And I remember watching that monitor, noticing that only when you were in my arms, your breathing became so steady, making a perfect little zigzag across the bottom of the screen. Then you would heave a big sigh (and what a sweet little sound that is), and I'd watch that little zigzag jump, then go back to the regular, steady pattern.

You were such a tiny little thing, just half an ounce over six pounds. Your sweet little stork bite birthmarks between your eyes, under your right nostril. Such tiny little hands and feet. The nurses all just loved you. They couldn't get over how cute you were. And you were definitely the healthiest baby in there. How my heart ached for the babies who had been in there for weeks, or even months before you arrived. And for their parents.

I hated not being able to bring you home with me, hated leaving you in the care of people who just didn't love you as much as I do. But you fought; you proved to those doctors and nurses that there was really nothing wrong with you, and you wanted to go home.

Oh, what a difference a year makes! You are so, so different today, and I can't get over it! Today you are a healthy, happy, super-energetic little guy, with a smile that can melt even the hardest of hearts. You have this amazing personality, this amazing twinkle in your little blue eyes. You are self-assured, tenacious, precocious. You are healthy. You are so beautiful.

You certainly didn't come into a world I had hoped you would. This first year of your life has been the hardest I've ever had. But I can't imagine how I would've gotten through it without you. And I make you this promise right now: it will only get better from here! This family has a lot of hard work in front of it, but I know that there are blessings awaiting us that we can't even imagine.

The happiest of birthdays to you, my dear Itty Bitty. I just don't know what I'd do without you.

Love always,

Mommy

Movin' on...

Whew, I just now got the kitchen cleaned up from dinner...finally. I get so sick of cleaning that dadgum kitchen. That was one thing great about having the IH around...he went along with the rule that whoever didn't cook, cleans. Now I get to do both. And thus far, only a couple of times has it waited until the next morning.

I'm sitting here right now at my dining table, iPod blaring some Alice in Chains, and an ice cold beer by the computer. This has been a momentous day.

I signed the papers today.

And funny....as I drove away from my attorney's office, I felt like I didn't expect to. Hopeful. Encouraged. Free.

Now I just need to work on the feelings of bitterness and hatred I have in my heart. At this point, I still desperately crave for all the IH's actions to come crashing down around him, so he is finally forced to acknowledge what a f'ed-up view he has on life. And don't even get me started on her.

This man has gone hog-wild spending money to the point it makes me wonder if he has some sort of undisclosed source of income. I mentioned in passing a few posts back that he had bought a new car. A brand new 2007 Nissan Pathfinder. This is his third new car in as many years. But this particular type of vehicle he needs now. After all, he now has as many as four kids to haul around. A couple of weeks ago, I noticed a Sirius satellite radio box under the front passenger seat. And this last time, he had a bike rack installed on the back. (I asked him if he had a bike now, and he said, no, it's just for the kids's bikes. But then the RK mentioned the other day that his dad and she ride bikes with the kids, too. And after some questioning, it was quite evident that these bikes were not rented.) Oh yes...he went to the Tim & Faith concert, too. (OK...I'll let that one slide...I went to the Rascal Flatts concert the following week.) And not to mention the new shoes I've seen him in, new clothes, etc. And oh yes...he received some sort of new credit card in the mail here at the house not too long ago. I wonder if there was one in there with her name on it, too.

I need to let it go. He's digging his own grave, and I just need to summon the patience to wait for it to all come caving in on him. No, actually, I just need to

LET.

IT.

GO.

As long as he makes those child support payments, I shouldn't care. And here in the grand state of Michigan, I took advantage of my option to go ahead and have it garnished from his wages from the get-go.


He's asked me if it would be agreeable to me if he could take the kids every weekend for the rest of the summer, until school starts. While I horribly miss my babies while they're gone, I also think it's good for me. I know the RK has a lot more fun on his weekends with his dad that what I have for him here at the house, so I avoid that source of guilt for not giving him a more entertaining time here at the house. I think I just might go ahead and say OK. I am really enjoying the time to myself, and the RK is really enjoying his weekends with his dad.

Oh yes! The weekend! I did end up going to that meet & greet at the neighbor's, but not until after 10:00. But that was OK, because they have a bit of a wild streak in them like I do. They had a keg...I don't think I've had beer from a keg since those 'enlightening' and 'informative' days back at UT Austin! My head hit the pillow at straight-up 2:00. It's nice to know I have a good source of blowing off steam when I need to.

The next day was another meet & greet at the clubhouse of the subdivision, spearheaded by my neighbor two doors down. I had told him I'd come help and set up, since I didn't have the IB to chase after. It was a much more mellow time than the night before, but still great. I did meet a lot of neighbors, one of which I hope I'll run into again. An older, single woman who might be a good source of babysitting. We all had a lot of fun slamming our builder and all the issues we're having with our houses. It was funny.

Oh my gosh... Let It Go just came on my iPod! Frighteningly appropriate. I'll probably listen to it a couple more times before the night's over.

That's all I have for now. From this day forward, though, the IH will now be referred to as the IX. I can't believe this day is here. I never thought in a millions years this day would ever hit my calendar. But it has.

Movin' on...

Amazed

My babies are gone again. And again, I just don't know what to do with myself.

I just finished my latest Netflix movie, Premonition with Sandra Bullock. It was riveting all the way through. And quite sad. It has left me with all kinds of thoughts going through my head. It touched a nerve. I don't feel like getting into the plot right now...you'll just have to see it for yourself.

The movie touched on the potential for infidelity within marriage, but the potential is not realized. And timing and reason for the way things happen the way they do is the whole underlying theme of this story, and like I do with anything I watch or read, I relate it to my own life.

I think now is a good time to tell a little more of my own story.

The existence of the IB is that quandary I have of why things happen when they do, and why. His creation is one of those great mysteries of life I have yet solve. And probably won't for quite a long time. You see, he was conceived after my husband had fallen into adultery, but before I knew about it.

And I know the exact date. I remember all the circumstances vividly. I was desperately trying to connect with my husband, to try and portray to him yet again just how much I loved him. But looking back on it now, and really on our whole marriage, he just didn't have a deep end. I was never, ever able to reach into his soul like I craved. And he had absolutely no desire to reach into mine.

My husband told me of his affair with the very best friend I had on Christmas Eve 2005. There were some pretty substantial events beforehand that precipitated him telling me when he did, so while that wasn't exactly the best choice of dates on the calendar to choose, it happened when it happened for a good reason. We spent the better part of Christmas Day in our bedroom, with the door shut, talking ourselves blue in the face. And thank God for the RK's Christmas presents...he was occupied with those to let us hash this out.

I didn't get angry, or go crazy...in fact, one of the first things I said was, "I believe this is just what our marriage needed to get us on track." Oh, how I loved him so. For these few days around Christmas, the IH was convinced that he needed to stick by his family and work things out. But then on Dec. 27, he, with my blessing, meets with her to tell her it's over. And when he comes home, he's a mess. He lets me know that she's like a drug he's addicted to. We go to bed, and while he's capable of sleeping through anything, things in my head are swirling around at a million miles an hour. And he lays there, snoring. Finally around 2:00, I feel like I'm about to go absolutely crazy with it all, I wake him up and tell him that I'm going to drive myself to the hospital for some relief...be it medical or psychological. And that's just what I do.

It was so hard for me to tell the triage nurse exactly why I was there, but somehow I manage to get through it, and they escort me back to a bed after taking my vitals. They ask me if I could be pregnant, because they don't want to give me any medication that could potentially harm a fetus. I tell them I guess it's possible, but in the back of my mind, I felt like the chances were zero. I laid on that bed trying to get some sleep while I waited and waited, and finally the doctor came back, saying that there wasn't anyone who could come talk to me on site, but that he had a list of clinics and doctors that if I went to one right now, they'd see me immediately without an appointment. At this point, I stop him and say, "So my pregnancy test was negative..."

"No, it was positive. Who told you it was negative?"

And just like that was how I found out. Four days after I learned my husband was having an affair.

And two full years after I had gone off birth control.


We hadn't even really been trying for another baby. I thought the birth control pills were adversely affecting my hormones, and I was tired of never feeling like I wanted to be with my husband. And now that I think back on it, he never really wholeheartedly agreed to this...he just went along with it. And that's the story of our entire relationship together right there. He just went along with whatever it was, never flat-out disagreeing with me, or agreeing with me.

My philosophy on going off the pill was that if God wanted us to have another baby, there was really nothing we could do about it, and He would take care of everything we needed. He created the baby, after all, and I was putting my faith in Him to meet all of its, and our needs. And the IH was basically, "Yeah, OK...whatever."

I so desperately wanted to have a fulfilling, mutually satisfying marriage. And I thought that perhaps if I went off the pill, my sex drive would come back and we'd be on our way. But now I know that perhaps it wasn't the pill screwing up my hormones...the issues went much, much deeper.

Anyway, I just remember feeling super-sensitive to my surroundings after receiving this news. Signing out, walking out to my car, driving home, wondering how in the hell I was going give up smoking at a time like this, waking him up to tell him and wondering if he was really even awake when I did. It's like I can remember every single second of that time, yet on another level I can't remember any of it.

I love being pregnant. I think it's one of the most amazing things a woman can experience, and I am so thankful to God to have been blessed with the experience. But I have to admit, the time I was carrying the IB was anything but joyful. I was the carrying the child of a man who really wanted nothing to do with me, instead of a man who thought I was so beautiful with our own unique creation inside me. I was with someone who thought there was nothing wrong with asking me to mop the floor when I was seven months along, instead of a man who wanted to spoil me and coddle me and drive me crazy trying take care of me. So much joy was robbed from this pregnancy, and I'm so angry about that.

And the IB's entrance into the world didn't go very smoothly. Labor went fine, but when he finally came out, he didn't breathe. For those of you who know the Apgar scale, his scores were 2/5/7. He spent five days in the NICU under observation. He was definitely one of the healthiest babies in there, and once he met all the criteria he needed to meet, they sent him home.

And yes, I take full responsibility for his difficulties. I smoked all through the pregnancy, right up to the end. I just wasn't strong enough to give it up with everything else I was having to deal with. And yes, I feel absolutely horrible about it. I'll take that with me to my grave. So please...no nasty comments about how selfish I was, or how could I do that...I'm already in hell over it.

The first night the IB spent in our home, the IH spent in the hotel. With her. The whole first week, in fact.

I just don't understand how a father could be capable of doing something like that to his newborn son...or how a husband could do that to his wife who just bore that son. The lack of an answer to this just eats at me...tears me up. I just don't get it.

And true to the name of my blog...the silver lining:

The IB! Words just can't describe what he is. Precious doesn't cover it. Angel doesn't cover it. Delight...nope. Amazing... Perfect... Beautiful... Miracle...

...that's a good place to stop. He is healthy, he is happy. His little 11-month-old personality is utterly addictive. He has the most beautiful smile which is always readily available. His hair is golden, his eyes the color of the sky. His hands...oh, those sweet little hands! Fat little fingers with dimples in the knuckles, soft little peach fuzz on them as well (I just noticed that today!), his little fingernails that grow so fast, and that big callous on his right thumb from him sucking it. His little toes go straight across, just like my mom says mine did when I was a baby. His tummy that I love to tickle and poke...and then he laughs. Scrunches up his nose, closes his eyes, and chortles.

I could go on and on...and my concluding thought is this...

Oh dear Lord, what in the world do you have in store for that precious little boy?! That you brought him into this world when you did, I don't understand. But I know I will someday. I know you have big things set up for his future, and I just pray that you guide me to help him fulfill it all.

The heroism of fatherhood

As I've mentioned before, I keep up with Midland's newspaper's website on a fairly regular basis. So just now I was perusing the headlines, and came across this commentary:

For Father's Day all I want is for my kids to see me
By Mike Goeke
06/11/2007

A friend of mine recently referred to his missionary dad as his "hero." As I creep into my 40s, being a hero to my kids holds more allure, and the legacy of my life seems to take on more value to me. I wondered what it would take to be a hero to my kids. What would they say about me at my funeral?

To be honest, great financial success has never motivated me, and I don't care to leave a legacy of material things. So in my mind I crafted a legacy. I decided that I want my kids to see me walking in obedience to God. I want them to see me serving the church, and serving other people. I want them to see me taking spiritual risks, and living the life of a true disciple of Christ. But as I was thinking of all the things I want my kids to see me doing, something very important literally flooded my thoughts and washed over my heart, soul and mind.

More than any of those things, I realized that I just want my kids to see me. I want them to see me at their sporting events. I want them to see me at their school programs. I want them to see me at breakfast and at supper. I want them to see me crouched behind a baseball glove or sitting at a tea party, drinking imaginary tea and eating plastic doughnuts. I want them to see me at their desks, working through math problems. I want them to see me on the side of their bed, praying with them at night. I want them to see me with arms open wide to comfort them or to welcome them home. I want them to see me caring when they are scared or sad. I want them to see me jumping across the trampoline from them, and running behind their bike as they learn to ride without training wheels. I want them to see me with my own Dixie cup full of popcorn, watching the DVD du jour. I want them to see me smiling when I walk in the door and I want them to see me groggy as they tap on my forehead to wake me up in the morning. I want them to see me cry and to see me laugh. I want them to see me make mistakes. I want them to see me loving their mommy, and laughing with their mommy, and kissing their mommy, and saying "I'm sorry" to their mommy. I want them to see me.

Yes, I want them to see me doing great things for God and living out the call on my life with honor. But at the end of the day, even those very good things probably don't matter if, in the process, they never saw me. I think I will quit worrying about my kids seeing me as a hero, and work harder to make sure that they simply see me.

Mr. Goeke's children are so very blessed! He's got it. He knows what life is all about, and how to find the joy that everyday has in store.

This just makes the biggest pain well up in my heart that I can't even describe.

My heart is shattered that my precious boys don't have a father as such. I am so proud of my kids, and even though it turns out they got dealt a rotten hand in the paternal department, they wouldn't be who they are if their father were anyone else. But how horrendously sad is it that the man who is so blessed to have such gorgeous children is so oblivious to the fact? It makes me so mad that I didn't have the insight into what he would be capable of. But I realize I'm not superhuman, and ultimately, the fault lies with him, and him only. He is going to miss out on so much of the joy his children can bring to his life. So be it for him, but what really breaks my heart is that they too will be missing out, and through absolutely no fault of their own. While I realize I alone can't fill the enormous void that their father's absence creates, this consumes me with motivation to continually work towards being everything these babies deserve in their mother and make sure they grow up with the same consuming desire to someday be the best fathers they can be. I desperately want them to have a full understanding that their children are the most precious gifts God can bless their lives with.

I pray that God has someone else in store for me that will be willing to take on the role for these kids that their dad is walking away from. Someone to demonstrate this level of integrity. Of gratitude. How to count their blessings. How to find joy in the little things they come across every single day.

I pray that there is a man out there who someday will eagerly step up to fill this void that I will never be able to fill all on my own, and be the father these kids deserve.

In spite of not sharing their genes.

Now that is a rare man, indeed, and in my eyes, there is truly no better use of the word 'hero.'