So, D gets upset with me when he thinks I'm not talking to him. I think, after last night, though, that he might be finally getting that it's not that I don't want to talk to him about stuff, it's just that I really suck at it. I tend to say things that are either really stupid, or that come out in a completely unintended, and usually screwed up, way. To fully understand the oops I made last night, I have to go back a bit and explain how D & I actually met and what happened before that.
So, we all already know that SD was a total loser who treated me like absolute crap and really messed up my self-esteem and left me with massive trust issues (which I am working very hard on eliminating, by the way). Well, there's one other ex you need to know about to really understand just where I was when I found D (yes, I found him...not the other way around).
When I was 17, I worked in a grocery store where I met this really cute, quite a bit older guy. He crushed on me just as hard as I crushed on him (granted, being 17, it was mostly, well...lust, but hey, I was 17!). Over a 4 year period, we had a very rocky, very confusing, on and off (but mostly off) relationship before I met and married SD. About a year ago, I got the really brilliant idea to look up this particular old boyfriend, since I'd always remembered him as being really great. He'd always kind of been like the fantasy guy that everyone else had to live up to. Which was really the problem.
I found him in May of last year. We got back together...again. Only this time, at the advanced age of 30, I finally saw him for what he really was: an alcoholic with some serious mental instability going on. He's a really sweet guy, but he drinks too much and gets violent (never with me, but I think that is only because I was never physically there when it happened), and well...he thinks aliens are his best friends. He pushed too hard, too fast, for way more than I could or would give. He wanted to live together...then he wanted to get married...he wanted to meet my kids...he wanted to be their dad. All things that I really want, with the right guy, but just absolutely scared the sh*t out of me when he talked about them. I mean, seriously, he would bring up marriage and I'd ask him if he'd seen the weather report yet today.
The final straw was when he called me one Saturday night early in September to tell me he'd been in the hospital for the last week with pneumonia (that explained the total absence of contact). Naturally, I was concerned. Until I realized that he was seriously doped up on pain pills and drinking. When he started talking about how thoughts of me and my kids were the only thing that kept him from dying, I began to squirm in my chair. I was so uncomfortable with this conversation it was all I could do not to drop the phone, grab the kids, and run away to some deserted island or mountaintop somewhere where no one could find us. Then, he tells me that there are aliens on his front porch looking in the window at him. This was when I said, "I think we should see other people" and then promptly hung up on him. He's called a time or two since then, but I've avoided his calls and now that my number has changed, I no longer hear from him. Definitely cured me of my idealized fantasy of how great he was. I got over him pretty quickly...like as soon as I hung up.
So, given that little history lesson, you can see why I might be a bit leery of men. But yet...I still wanted to date. I wanted to find someone, someone I could eventually have that future with...the one that included marriage and being there for me and my kids. So, I decided to sign up on a couple of dating sites and just take things nice and slow and see what happened.
I signed up on one site in the beginning of October or the end of September. There wasn't really anyone on that site. So around the middle to end of October, I signed up on okcupid.com.
I got a lot of responses to my profile, but no one that really interested me. A couple of guys who were outright liars, which holds absolutely no appeal for me at all. One guy was so desperate he practically had the word "desperate" tattooed on his forehead with a flashing neon sign pointing to it.
I got bored one day and started searching the profiles. D's was the last one in the search list that day. I can't remember why (it was either because he was selective in who he responded to or he hadn't been contacted in over a week and okcupid wanted to suggest I send him an e-mail). In the search list, it shows you their picture, their age and location, marital status, and a little peek at what they've said. I read D's little bit, but didn't open his profile yet.
The next time I searched, his came up first. Different little peek, and I read it again, but still didn't open it. The thought that I had that time was that I was intrigued...which meant he must be crazy. I mean, look at my track record: a cheating loser and a crazy loser. Can you blame me?
The third day, I got him again. I saw a different little piece again, and this time it mentioned about being a truck driver. Well...he's not home much, so it wouldn't take too much time from the kids, and if he IS crazy, at least he's not here to be crazy, right? So, I moved the mouse to click, and left it hovering a moment. I hesitated to open his profile, thinking that although I couldn't have any idea what was going to happen, that somehow I knew this mouse click was going to change my life.
Then I clicked. I read his entire profile (D is quite the talker, both with his voice and with his fingers), and I laughed through all of it. I never got the creepy feeling I got from other profiles, didn't get annoyed, and somehow...didn't sense any craziness.
I moved the mouse to the send message button, and again I hesitated. Why did I keep hesitating? I don't really know. Mostly fear, I guess. Fear of rejection, fear that my incredibly poor judgement was about to make its presence known again, or maybe even more than the rest, fear that this time I might actually be making a good choice and that this might actually be it.
Finally, I clicked and sent him the first message. I tried to be kind of funny and light, and I'm not sure I did such a good job. But either I did, or he just didn't notice or didn't care, because the next morning I had a response from him, a positive response. I nearly bounced in my chair with excitement. My fears weren't completely gone, but at least the fear of rejection was somewhat lessened.
Over the next couple of weeks, we e-mailed and chatted through instant messengers, both on the site and off. We talked about a lot of different things. One night, he finally got up the nerve to give me his phone number and tell me I could call him if I wanted. I had been trying to get up the nerve to give him mine, and hadn't quite gotten there yet.
The next day I called him. His voice was amazing. He's got a very sexy voice. He probably doesn't know it, or wouldn't admit it, but he does. As we got to know each other over the phone, his intelligence became quite clear, which was yet another thing that got to me.
We finally met around mid-November, about three weeks or so after that initial e-mail. The first time I saw him I knew I would end up dating him. I didn't know how long it would last or how serious it would be, but I just knew we would be together. Our second date was the very next day. When trying to plan it, he commented, "I know I want more time with you than we had today." I think I started to fall in love with him when he said that.
Our second date was breakfast and going to the local museum. That was when I knew I was in love with him. He would hold my hand, he would stand close to me, he would kiss my forehead, touch my back, smile at me. So many little things that I don't think he really thought anything of, but really melted me.
So....all of that to tell you about how I really put my foot in my mouth last night. I don't recall how, but somehow we got on the subject of how we met. I mentioned how I had hesitated to look at his profile, and he made a comment about how it was nice to know he was my last choice. I think he might have been joking, but I'm not entirely sure.
I do know that I feel really bad, because I didn't mean it that way. What I meant by it was...well, I'm still not entirely sure how to explain it. It's almost like I knew that he was going to be more than just some guy I talked to online, or some guy that I dated briefly. And even though I've been looking for this kind of relationship, I was still scared of it. So, I hesitated.
Our relationship is, by far, the best relationship I've ever had. I don't get scared when I think about the future. If he brings up anything that even remotely hints at marriage or years down the road, it doesn't terrify me. In fact, it actually makes me happy that he thinks about things like that. I no longer feel the need to ask about the weather report. :)
I regret that hesitation now. I'm glad that I e-mailed him. I'm glad that I met him. He's made my life so much better, and I cannot imagine my life without him in it now. And he was NEVER my last choice. In fact, if I could change anything in my life at all, it would be to go back about 10 years, and find some way to meet D, instead of SD.
And yes, I know...this is all mushy. What can I say? He'll be home soon. I miss him. I can't wait to be in his arms and kiss him again. I'm allowed to be mushy. Right?
Friday, February 12, 2010
Thursday, February 11, 2010
I'd forgotten about this...
So, I had to go to Walmart this morning. Second time in two days. Went yesterday to get new pillows and snacks for the boys Valentine's parties at school. Got the pillows; forgot the snacks. So I headed back over there this morning and got them.
Years ago, I worked in a grocery store. As shy as I am, I always made it a point to smile and be friendly to my customers. Apparently, my cashier this morning missed that lesson. She was not outright rude, but she never once smiled, never said please or thank you. In fact, the only words she spoke to me at all were "You can go ahead and swipe your card now" after she rang up the first item. I didn't say anything to her, but I wanted to tell her that she needed to be a little nicer. But, whatever.
As I was driving home, thinking about this experience, the local radio station I was listening to was having listeners call in and tell what the nicest thing a stranger had ever done for them was. I had to think really hard, because it's not very often anymore that a stranger does anything nice for anyone. And then I remembered.
When C was a baby, he'd gotten some kind of eye problem. I don't even remember what it was, just that it caused his eyes to be really goopy and yucky. SD and I were still together, we had two cars at that point. SD left me the cell phone we'd recently gotten and I was taking C to the dr. On the way, my car got a flat. I didn't have AAA or anything like that. I couldn't call SD because...well, I had the cell phone. I called my dad, but he was working about 3 hours away. I couldn't change the flat myself because I didn't want to put C in his carseat on the side of the road and I didn't want to leave him in the car while it was up on the jack. Oh, yeah, and there was also the fact that I didn't actually know HOW to change a flat. But that's just a minor detail; I'm sure I could have figured it out.
Anyway, as I'm standing here on the side of the road, freaking out, with C in my arms, this lady in a very nice car pulls over behind me. She gets out and asks me what's wrong. I explain that I have a flat and I'm waiting on my dad to come change it. She says she'll wait with me. I tell her that I appreciate that, but it's not necessary. She insists. I relent, because I don't want to be rude to this lady who's trying to be nice. She asks how long it will be until my dad gets there. When I tell her 3 hours, she says I can't wait that long with a baby. She grabs her cell phone and her AAA card, and calls it in, telling them that she's on the side of the road with a friend and her baby and we really need someone to get there ASAP.
As we're waiting, she asks me where C and I are going. I explain the goopy eye thing and how we're going to the dr. She tells me that she is a dr. She stood there on the side of the road and examined C, diagnosed him, and gave me a prescription for some meds that cleared it right up, saving me the expense of the dr visit. An expense we couldn't afford. She did all of this for me and C, and the only thing she asked in return was that I call her and let her know how we were in a couple of days. Which I did.
Almost 9 years later, I can't recall her name. I only vaguely remember what she looked like. What I do remember is that she went well above and beyond what any stranger would do for another person. I remember that without her, SD and I would have ended up a couple of hundred dollars in debt for a dr visit we couldn't afford, my dad would have lost time at work, and I would have been siting on the side of the road with a cranky, sick baby for hours.
When that tire first went flat, I thought it was the worst thing that could happen to me. It turned out to be the best thing that happened that day.
Years ago, I worked in a grocery store. As shy as I am, I always made it a point to smile and be friendly to my customers. Apparently, my cashier this morning missed that lesson. She was not outright rude, but she never once smiled, never said please or thank you. In fact, the only words she spoke to me at all were "You can go ahead and swipe your card now" after she rang up the first item. I didn't say anything to her, but I wanted to tell her that she needed to be a little nicer. But, whatever.
As I was driving home, thinking about this experience, the local radio station I was listening to was having listeners call in and tell what the nicest thing a stranger had ever done for them was. I had to think really hard, because it's not very often anymore that a stranger does anything nice for anyone. And then I remembered.
When C was a baby, he'd gotten some kind of eye problem. I don't even remember what it was, just that it caused his eyes to be really goopy and yucky. SD and I were still together, we had two cars at that point. SD left me the cell phone we'd recently gotten and I was taking C to the dr. On the way, my car got a flat. I didn't have AAA or anything like that. I couldn't call SD because...well, I had the cell phone. I called my dad, but he was working about 3 hours away. I couldn't change the flat myself because I didn't want to put C in his carseat on the side of the road and I didn't want to leave him in the car while it was up on the jack. Oh, yeah, and there was also the fact that I didn't actually know HOW to change a flat. But that's just a minor detail; I'm sure I could have figured it out.
Anyway, as I'm standing here on the side of the road, freaking out, with C in my arms, this lady in a very nice car pulls over behind me. She gets out and asks me what's wrong. I explain that I have a flat and I'm waiting on my dad to come change it. She says she'll wait with me. I tell her that I appreciate that, but it's not necessary. She insists. I relent, because I don't want to be rude to this lady who's trying to be nice. She asks how long it will be until my dad gets there. When I tell her 3 hours, she says I can't wait that long with a baby. She grabs her cell phone and her AAA card, and calls it in, telling them that she's on the side of the road with a friend and her baby and we really need someone to get there ASAP.
As we're waiting, she asks me where C and I are going. I explain the goopy eye thing and how we're going to the dr. She tells me that she is a dr. She stood there on the side of the road and examined C, diagnosed him, and gave me a prescription for some meds that cleared it right up, saving me the expense of the dr visit. An expense we couldn't afford. She did all of this for me and C, and the only thing she asked in return was that I call her and let her know how we were in a couple of days. Which I did.
Almost 9 years later, I can't recall her name. I only vaguely remember what she looked like. What I do remember is that she went well above and beyond what any stranger would do for another person. I remember that without her, SD and I would have ended up a couple of hundred dollars in debt for a dr visit we couldn't afford, my dad would have lost time at work, and I would have been siting on the side of the road with a cranky, sick baby for hours.
When that tire first went flat, I thought it was the worst thing that could happen to me. It turned out to be the best thing that happened that day.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Follow Me
There have been a couple of different people and situations recently that have had me thinking of my ex. Not missing him or anything like that. But I have one friend who is in the midst of figuring out her marriage and whether it's worth staying (personally, I think no, but it's not me or my life, so...), and D is making changes to his life, and doing something he's been told he could never do for a very ridiculous reason(the reason he was given was ridiculous, not the fact that he's doing it. In fact, I'm very proud and excited that he's doing it).
I have always maintained that I would never badmouth my ex to C & J. Regardless of how I feel about him, unless and until D (or someone else...but I think I'm pretty much done. I think D's it for me) adopts them, SD is still their father. He may have treated me like absolute crap, and he may completely ignore their existence on this earth, but he is still their father. And I am always very careful to watch what I say about him when they are around. As they get older, there are certain facts about him that they will be told, facts that are very unpleasant but nonetheless true and they need to know. Those facts are not badmouthing him, they are a simple statement of fact. I don't play him up as a good guy, either, because that's not really true either. IF the kids ask, and that's a big IF, I simply answer their questions with facts whenever possible, and if I can't answer with fact, then I am careful to answer as neutrally as possible, so as to not make him sound better than he is or to badmouth him and press my feelings toward him on them.
But, my friend asked me the other day if I've ever regretted leaving him. The answer to that question is a resounding no. I NEVER once regretted that decision, I never once looked back and questioned it in any way. By the time I ended things, our relationship had deteriorated to the point that there was no relationship left to regret or even to try to salvage. We were two people who just happened to share a house and a bed and combined DNA in the form of one child and another on the way. There was nothing left to regret.
I'm not going to get into D's situation, simply because it's very personal, and I don't feel I have the right to tell the world. But between listening to him about his situation and my friend's next question, which was if I have any good memories at all of SD, I began thinking about SD and this memory is what comes to mind. In fact, I think of this every time I hear this song.
I don't remember exactly when this happened. I think it was before we got married, but it may have been after. It's very vague, probably because for the most part, I've gone out of my way to block a lot of the memories of my marriage. I can't recall if I was pregnant with C or if he was in the car with us.
But anyway...SD and I were in the car (the only car we had at the time, and one that only ran sporadically, leaving me at least terrified that we were going to be stuck on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, and we couldn't even afford a cell phone. We were going to visit his parents, two people who quite possibly hated me more than I grew to hate their son.
Uncle Kracker was one of SD's favorite artists at the time. The song "Follow Me" was getting quite a bit of airplay at this time and it was a particular favorite of SD's. It came on while we were stopped at a long red light. He started singing to me, waving his hand in front of me when it got to the part about "swimming through your veins like a fish in the sea". When he was done (he only sang part of it), he kissed me, a very sweet kiss. Part of what makes that such a good memory is the fact that it was such an ordinary thing - couples all over do this. My dad does this to my mom on occasion, I have watched some of my friends husbands do this, too. It was so ordinary, so normal and natural, not forced. Part of it, too, is that in that moment, it really felt like we were together. His parents couldn't stand me, but he (I thought) loved me and was on my side.
Now, yes, I am well aware that the lyrics of that song really could be interpreted as being about cheating. I am also well aware that at the time this happened, in all likelihood, he was cheating on me, had cheated on me, or was planning to cheat on me, or quite possibly all three.
But, I still choose to ignore all of that and keep that as one good memory. There are others, of course, because we did occasionally actually get along rather well. Unfortunately, the majority of them are tainted, by the lying, cheating, fighting, ignoring, or any of the other countless things he did. For example, the roses.
Again, I don't remember exactly when this was, I just know it was sometime between when C was born and I got pregnant with J. He was working full time, possibly even two jobs (it was rare, but he did occasionally), so that I could stay at home with C. One day, he came home from work with two dozen of the most beautiful purple roses. I have a tattoo which has a purple rose in it, so he knew I liked them. I was totally blown away by the generosity, the thought that I thought he'd put into it, and I even took pictures of the roses, so that even after they died, I'd still have them. Shortly afterward, it came out that he'd been cheating on me (again) and that he'd bought the roses out of guilt. Which is why I now associate roses with doing something wrong. If D brought me roses, my response would not be "Oh, babe, they're beautiful!" but instead "What the hell did you do and am I going to kill you or is my dad?" So, D, if you read this, remember...no roses. Any other flower is fine, but not roses. :)
So why do I choose to remember him singing to me as a good memory even though I could think of reasons not to? Well, it's really pretty simple. Some day, C & J may come to me and ask me if there were ever any good times between SD and I. By not tarnishing this memory with all the reasons why it shouldn't be a good one, I can honestly tell them yes, and have one memory to share with them. One that I won't feel the urge to add, "But he was (cheating, lying, whatever) so it really wasn't all the great" when I tell them about it.
So, that's my one really good memory of my ex. And the fact that it's really the only one should show exactly why I chose to end things. In the short time that D and I have been together, I have already gathered countless good memories of him: the first time we talked by e-mail, the first talk on instant messenger, first time on the phone, first time I saw him, our first kiss (and second, and third, and the fiftieth...yeah, I really like kissing him). The first time he told me he loved me is a very special memory. The first time he met my kids. Several of our phone conversations are favorite memories because of something discussed during them. If D & I broke up, and my friend asked me the same question about our relationship, my answer would have to be yes, I would very much regret it. Whether it was his decision or mine, I would be devastated and I would definitely regret it. I'm sure eventually I would move on, but it would not be the way I did when SD and I ended.
Ok, so that's all I have to say right now. Now, I'm off to support those I care about in figuring out their lives. And to tell my kids that I love them and they can do anything they want in life.
I have always maintained that I would never badmouth my ex to C & J. Regardless of how I feel about him, unless and until D (or someone else...but I think I'm pretty much done. I think D's it for me) adopts them, SD is still their father. He may have treated me like absolute crap, and he may completely ignore their existence on this earth, but he is still their father. And I am always very careful to watch what I say about him when they are around. As they get older, there are certain facts about him that they will be told, facts that are very unpleasant but nonetheless true and they need to know. Those facts are not badmouthing him, they are a simple statement of fact. I don't play him up as a good guy, either, because that's not really true either. IF the kids ask, and that's a big IF, I simply answer their questions with facts whenever possible, and if I can't answer with fact, then I am careful to answer as neutrally as possible, so as to not make him sound better than he is or to badmouth him and press my feelings toward him on them.
But, my friend asked me the other day if I've ever regretted leaving him. The answer to that question is a resounding no. I NEVER once regretted that decision, I never once looked back and questioned it in any way. By the time I ended things, our relationship had deteriorated to the point that there was no relationship left to regret or even to try to salvage. We were two people who just happened to share a house and a bed and combined DNA in the form of one child and another on the way. There was nothing left to regret.
I'm not going to get into D's situation, simply because it's very personal, and I don't feel I have the right to tell the world. But between listening to him about his situation and my friend's next question, which was if I have any good memories at all of SD, I began thinking about SD and this memory is what comes to mind. In fact, I think of this every time I hear this song.
I don't remember exactly when this happened. I think it was before we got married, but it may have been after. It's very vague, probably because for the most part, I've gone out of my way to block a lot of the memories of my marriage. I can't recall if I was pregnant with C or if he was in the car with us.
But anyway...SD and I were in the car (the only car we had at the time, and one that only ran sporadically, leaving me at least terrified that we were going to be stuck on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, and we couldn't even afford a cell phone. We were going to visit his parents, two people who quite possibly hated me more than I grew to hate their son.
Uncle Kracker was one of SD's favorite artists at the time. The song "Follow Me" was getting quite a bit of airplay at this time and it was a particular favorite of SD's. It came on while we were stopped at a long red light. He started singing to me, waving his hand in front of me when it got to the part about "swimming through your veins like a fish in the sea". When he was done (he only sang part of it), he kissed me, a very sweet kiss. Part of what makes that such a good memory is the fact that it was such an ordinary thing - couples all over do this. My dad does this to my mom on occasion, I have watched some of my friends husbands do this, too. It was so ordinary, so normal and natural, not forced. Part of it, too, is that in that moment, it really felt like we were together. His parents couldn't stand me, but he (I thought) loved me and was on my side.
Now, yes, I am well aware that the lyrics of that song really could be interpreted as being about cheating. I am also well aware that at the time this happened, in all likelihood, he was cheating on me, had cheated on me, or was planning to cheat on me, or quite possibly all three.
But, I still choose to ignore all of that and keep that as one good memory. There are others, of course, because we did occasionally actually get along rather well. Unfortunately, the majority of them are tainted, by the lying, cheating, fighting, ignoring, or any of the other countless things he did. For example, the roses.
Again, I don't remember exactly when this was, I just know it was sometime between when C was born and I got pregnant with J. He was working full time, possibly even two jobs (it was rare, but he did occasionally), so that I could stay at home with C. One day, he came home from work with two dozen of the most beautiful purple roses. I have a tattoo which has a purple rose in it, so he knew I liked them. I was totally blown away by the generosity, the thought that I thought he'd put into it, and I even took pictures of the roses, so that even after they died, I'd still have them. Shortly afterward, it came out that he'd been cheating on me (again) and that he'd bought the roses out of guilt. Which is why I now associate roses with doing something wrong. If D brought me roses, my response would not be "Oh, babe, they're beautiful!" but instead "What the hell did you do and am I going to kill you or is my dad?" So, D, if you read this, remember...no roses. Any other flower is fine, but not roses. :)
So why do I choose to remember him singing to me as a good memory even though I could think of reasons not to? Well, it's really pretty simple. Some day, C & J may come to me and ask me if there were ever any good times between SD and I. By not tarnishing this memory with all the reasons why it shouldn't be a good one, I can honestly tell them yes, and have one memory to share with them. One that I won't feel the urge to add, "But he was (cheating, lying, whatever) so it really wasn't all the great" when I tell them about it.
So, that's my one really good memory of my ex. And the fact that it's really the only one should show exactly why I chose to end things. In the short time that D and I have been together, I have already gathered countless good memories of him: the first time we talked by e-mail, the first talk on instant messenger, first time on the phone, first time I saw him, our first kiss (and second, and third, and the fiftieth...yeah, I really like kissing him). The first time he told me he loved me is a very special memory. The first time he met my kids. Several of our phone conversations are favorite memories because of something discussed during them. If D & I broke up, and my friend asked me the same question about our relationship, my answer would have to be yes, I would very much regret it. Whether it was his decision or mine, I would be devastated and I would definitely regret it. I'm sure eventually I would move on, but it would not be the way I did when SD and I ended.
Ok, so that's all I have to say right now. Now, I'm off to support those I care about in figuring out their lives. And to tell my kids that I love them and they can do anything they want in life.
Monday, February 8, 2010
I do this every year...
I will confess up front that I am not a huge fan of Valentine's Day. Don't get me wrong, I'll celebrate it. But I just don't get why I'm supposed to feel so special to get flowers, chocolate, dinner out, whatever, on the same day when everyone else is also getting it. To me, those kinds of things mean so much more when done on an ordinary day for no other reason than that he was thinking of me and wanted to.
So, with that out there...every year, since C started school, they do the little Valentine's parties and card exchanges. C has been in school now for 4 years. By now, you'd think that I would remember this and buy the cards, right? Wrong. I never remember. Even when I'm reminded right beforehand, I still don't remember. I do my grocery shopping on Friday mornings after I drop C & J off at school. C reminded me as they were getting out of the car that I needed to get cards. Naturally, by the time I got to the store, I had forgotten. I find tomatoes and carrots to be more important, I guess.
So, now, today I have to take the boys to the store, get cards, and THEN come home and do homework and address all these cards. Now, fortunately, both of them are writing and able to read, so they can do the cards with little to no help or supervision from me. But, still...it's daunting. Between the two of them, there's about 40-45 cards to be addressed. My hand already hurts at the thought of all the writing they are going to be doing.
I also have to get them some kind of snacks to take in for the party. They'd like me to bake something. And with the new stand mixer I got for Christmas, it's tempting. But I'd have to bake soooo much (again, remember, enough for 40-45 people..well, kids). And I love my mixer and I love to bake, but that's just an awful lot of work to do for kids who may or may not eat whatever I make anyway. Plus, the school seems to change its policy almost daily on whether treats have to be prepackaged and unopened or not.
So, since I said that I'm not a big fan of Valentine's Day, you're probably wondering if I have plans for it. Well...yes, I do. Sort of. Not so much because of the day itself, but just because it so happens that D is hoping to be home for it. He's putting in for his home time today, and hoping to be home Friday. I'm not going to mention my plans, simply because he does have access to this, and I want to surprise him.
We're also hoping to take the boys to the zoo while he's home. They have no idea yet. I just felt this sudden urge to do something, to get out of the house and go somewhere as a family. And what better time to do that than when D is home? The boys have never been to the zoo. They've been to Silver Springs, and they've been to a local petting farm. But never the zoo. I'm actually quite excited, and definitely planning to take my camera. They both absolutely adore animals, and I'm so excited to see how they're going to react to seeing animals that up until now, they've only seen on TV. Granted, it won't be in their natural environments, but hey, I can't afford a trip to Africa or Egypt or wherever right now.
So, with that out there...every year, since C started school, they do the little Valentine's parties and card exchanges. C has been in school now for 4 years. By now, you'd think that I would remember this and buy the cards, right? Wrong. I never remember. Even when I'm reminded right beforehand, I still don't remember. I do my grocery shopping on Friday mornings after I drop C & J off at school. C reminded me as they were getting out of the car that I needed to get cards. Naturally, by the time I got to the store, I had forgotten. I find tomatoes and carrots to be more important, I guess.
So, now, today I have to take the boys to the store, get cards, and THEN come home and do homework and address all these cards. Now, fortunately, both of them are writing and able to read, so they can do the cards with little to no help or supervision from me. But, still...it's daunting. Between the two of them, there's about 40-45 cards to be addressed. My hand already hurts at the thought of all the writing they are going to be doing.
I also have to get them some kind of snacks to take in for the party. They'd like me to bake something. And with the new stand mixer I got for Christmas, it's tempting. But I'd have to bake soooo much (again, remember, enough for 40-45 people..well, kids). And I love my mixer and I love to bake, but that's just an awful lot of work to do for kids who may or may not eat whatever I make anyway. Plus, the school seems to change its policy almost daily on whether treats have to be prepackaged and unopened or not.
So, since I said that I'm not a big fan of Valentine's Day, you're probably wondering if I have plans for it. Well...yes, I do. Sort of. Not so much because of the day itself, but just because it so happens that D is hoping to be home for it. He's putting in for his home time today, and hoping to be home Friday. I'm not going to mention my plans, simply because he does have access to this, and I want to surprise him.
We're also hoping to take the boys to the zoo while he's home. They have no idea yet. I just felt this sudden urge to do something, to get out of the house and go somewhere as a family. And what better time to do that than when D is home? The boys have never been to the zoo. They've been to Silver Springs, and they've been to a local petting farm. But never the zoo. I'm actually quite excited, and definitely planning to take my camera. They both absolutely adore animals, and I'm so excited to see how they're going to react to seeing animals that up until now, they've only seen on TV. Granted, it won't be in their natural environments, but hey, I can't afford a trip to Africa or Egypt or wherever right now.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
The sun is finally out, but my mood still sucks...
For the past week or so, we've had more cloudy days than sunny ones. I'm one of those people who loves thunderstorms and rain and such, but really needs the sun to be happy. And it doesn't help that my parents house is surrounded by trees, so doesn't really get a whole lot of sunlight even on a bright day.
Apparently, all the cloudiness has really brought me down. Today it's all just kind of hit me at once, everything that seems to be wrong with my life. My father did my tax return for me this morning, and I'm not getting back nearly as much as I usually do. They need money to put in a new drainfield for their septic tank, and apparently I'm supposed to just hand over my tax refund, and they'll kick in the little bit more that's needed.
I don't begrudge my parents the money. But...I still have bills to pay. And D and I have been planning on moving in together eventually. That won't happen if I have no money. I certainly can't expect him to pay for everything. Not that that really matters anyway, since I also started thinking about how before the economy got so bad, I barely made enough to pay for childcare, groceries, and the phone, electric, and cable bills. Meaning, even if I find a job at this point, I'll be lucky if it pays enough to cover childcare and groceries. And I don't have much hope for even finding that right now.
I'd hoped to save my refund so that if/when D and I were ready to move in together, I'd have a little extra stashed away in case we needed it. My parents don't seem to get it; that, or they don't think we're serious about it. They're putting me in a really bad position here. They want me and the kids to eventually move out, they don't want D to move in here. And yet they want basically all my money to take care of their house. How am I supposed to move out if I have no money? And why should my relationship have to live in permanent limbo because they took all my money? Yes, I get that this house isn't big enough for 6 people. But I also get that this wasn't my choice. None of this was my choice.
They decided to buy the property. They decided to build my house. They decided to pay my mortgage for me. They made all these decisions, that were supposed to be for me and my kids. I would have been fine with renting, or at least putting a mobile home on the property. It would have been faster and cheaper, and we might have still been able to cover it all. Now, I'm stuck living here, with my parents again, at the age of 31, with 2 kids.
D is looking at going to school to become a pilot. I'm happy for him, and I completely support his decision, if he decides to do it. I know he can do it. He's more than smart enough, he's definitely determined enough, and it's been his dream since he was a kid. But...as happy as I am for him, it's also a little depressing for me. There's nowhere nearby that he can do it, so he'll have to go somewhere else. We already aren't in a position to live together, and him going somewhere else and going to school isn't going to put us in a position to live together. Which means...not only will we still not be living together, but we'll be further apart, and see each other less often. Maybe I'm wrong about all this, but I doubt it. He'll be so busy with school, we won't be able to see each other as much...I wonder if our relationship will be able to survive that. I guess I'll find out. I love him too much to try to stop him from going after his dream.
He doesn't know I'm having any of these thoughts. I'm going to tell him. I'm tempted not to. I don't want to depress him, or make him rethink what he wants to do (I want him to achieve his dreams), or make him feel like I'm trying to stop him. Which I'm afraid is going to happen if I tell him what I'm thinking. But...I also remember that I said I wasn't going to do that anymore. I said I was going to tell him how I felt, and what I thought, from now on. So, as tempted as I am to pretend nothing is bothering me and everything is fine, I'm going to tell him the next time he calls me (which should be later today). I'm not sure yet how I'm going to bring it up or what exactly I'm going to say. I'm not sure how to word it where it won't sound like I'm trying to change his mind or something. I guess I'm just...wondering if he's given any thought to how hard it's going to be to do what he wants to do and still find time for us. I bet, if he has, he thinks he can do it. And he can, I'm sure, but at what expense? He'll end up stressed and exhausted trying to keep up with everything.
I suppose I should probably just face the reality that I will probably be stuck living with my parents for many, many years. Someday, I will find a job. I hope. I'm sure D and I will survive whatever happens, even if it's hard, and I'm probably just worrying over nothing. I guess at some point, some day, we'll figure out a way to finally get a place together.
I would probably feel a lot better if the sun would come out, even for just a little while. Otherwise, I think I'm just going to go quietly insane with all my depressing thoughts.
Apparently, all the cloudiness has really brought me down. Today it's all just kind of hit me at once, everything that seems to be wrong with my life. My father did my tax return for me this morning, and I'm not getting back nearly as much as I usually do. They need money to put in a new drainfield for their septic tank, and apparently I'm supposed to just hand over my tax refund, and they'll kick in the little bit more that's needed.
I don't begrudge my parents the money. But...I still have bills to pay. And D and I have been planning on moving in together eventually. That won't happen if I have no money. I certainly can't expect him to pay for everything. Not that that really matters anyway, since I also started thinking about how before the economy got so bad, I barely made enough to pay for childcare, groceries, and the phone, electric, and cable bills. Meaning, even if I find a job at this point, I'll be lucky if it pays enough to cover childcare and groceries. And I don't have much hope for even finding that right now.
I'd hoped to save my refund so that if/when D and I were ready to move in together, I'd have a little extra stashed away in case we needed it. My parents don't seem to get it; that, or they don't think we're serious about it. They're putting me in a really bad position here. They want me and the kids to eventually move out, they don't want D to move in here. And yet they want basically all my money to take care of their house. How am I supposed to move out if I have no money? And why should my relationship have to live in permanent limbo because they took all my money? Yes, I get that this house isn't big enough for 6 people. But I also get that this wasn't my choice. None of this was my choice.
They decided to buy the property. They decided to build my house. They decided to pay my mortgage for me. They made all these decisions, that were supposed to be for me and my kids. I would have been fine with renting, or at least putting a mobile home on the property. It would have been faster and cheaper, and we might have still been able to cover it all. Now, I'm stuck living here, with my parents again, at the age of 31, with 2 kids.
D is looking at going to school to become a pilot. I'm happy for him, and I completely support his decision, if he decides to do it. I know he can do it. He's more than smart enough, he's definitely determined enough, and it's been his dream since he was a kid. But...as happy as I am for him, it's also a little depressing for me. There's nowhere nearby that he can do it, so he'll have to go somewhere else. We already aren't in a position to live together, and him going somewhere else and going to school isn't going to put us in a position to live together. Which means...not only will we still not be living together, but we'll be further apart, and see each other less often. Maybe I'm wrong about all this, but I doubt it. He'll be so busy with school, we won't be able to see each other as much...I wonder if our relationship will be able to survive that. I guess I'll find out. I love him too much to try to stop him from going after his dream.
He doesn't know I'm having any of these thoughts. I'm going to tell him. I'm tempted not to. I don't want to depress him, or make him rethink what he wants to do (I want him to achieve his dreams), or make him feel like I'm trying to stop him. Which I'm afraid is going to happen if I tell him what I'm thinking. But...I also remember that I said I wasn't going to do that anymore. I said I was going to tell him how I felt, and what I thought, from now on. So, as tempted as I am to pretend nothing is bothering me and everything is fine, I'm going to tell him the next time he calls me (which should be later today). I'm not sure yet how I'm going to bring it up or what exactly I'm going to say. I'm not sure how to word it where it won't sound like I'm trying to change his mind or something. I guess I'm just...wondering if he's given any thought to how hard it's going to be to do what he wants to do and still find time for us. I bet, if he has, he thinks he can do it. And he can, I'm sure, but at what expense? He'll end up stressed and exhausted trying to keep up with everything.
I suppose I should probably just face the reality that I will probably be stuck living with my parents for many, many years. Someday, I will find a job. I hope. I'm sure D and I will survive whatever happens, even if it's hard, and I'm probably just worrying over nothing. I guess at some point, some day, we'll figure out a way to finally get a place together.
I would probably feel a lot better if the sun would come out, even for just a little while. Otherwise, I think I'm just going to go quietly insane with all my depressing thoughts.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Following talent...
My friend Caroline has been trying, for about a week now, to convince me to sign J up for T-Ball ("it's free for first-timers this year!" she says), and C for baseball ("it's only $80!" she tells me). Aside from my financial situation, it kind of seems like a good idea, but also not such a good idea.
Both boys are the long and lean type. They have energy like nobody's business. I'd kill to have just a third of their energy (mainly so I could keep up with them!). Being outside, running, playing, riding bikes, these things are pretty much what they live for. Rainy days, super cold days are the end of the world for them; you could literally think someone died the way they act.
C has a good arm. He can throw a ball pretty far, and I think he throws like a boy (I wouldn't really know; I throw like a girl. What can I say?). The whole hitting the ball with the bat...well, we're working on it. J throws pretty far as well, but he's more into tackling, so I think he'd probably be better suited to football.
Here's my thing, though. I'm a very creative person. I've never been into athletics. Just not my thing. And I'm fine with it if it turns out that athletics are their thing. I used to write poetry and stories (I've lost my inspiration for that though.). Most people who read my writing think I'm pretty good at it. I'm also into photography. I can't draw a picture to save my life, but I can take one with a camera, and my family and most of my friends think I'm pretty talented.
My grandfather (my mom's dad) had an amazing ability with a camera. He could take the most incredible pictures of the most ordinary situations. He could also draw a picture. My mother has a picture that he drew of a log cabin in the woods. I thought that picture was a professionally done picture until my mom told me one day that my grandfather drew it.
The best compliment I think I ever received was when my mom was looking at some pictures I took one day and told me that I had my grandfather's talent with the camera. My grandfather died when I was only 4 or 5 years old, so I have very limited memories of him, but those that I do have are filled with love.
I think C has inherited my grandfather's drawing ability. Obviously, he's only 8 (I'm trying really hard not to think about how he's almost 9), so his work is still a little crude, definitely not perfect, and mostly limited to Spongebob Squarepants and lizards and the like, but what he does draw he does amazingly well. He also seems to have that same natural ability with the camera that my grandfather and I have. I let him take a camera on his field trip a few months ago and he took some photos that were really great, and on other occasions, he's swiped my camera and taken some good pictures.
Which is why, although I appreciate Caroline's enthusiasm and her wish to see my boys play ball and hang out with me while our 3 boys have fun, I think I'm not going to do it.
I think I'd rather encourage the talent that I see in C. He may be great at baseball. And if he wants to play, now or in the future, I will encourage and support him every step of the way. But he shows no real interest in it. His interests really seem to lie with drawing, and other more creative pursuits. I want to encourage that, support that, and know that he is truly enjoying what he is doing than to encourage him to do something that doesn't really seem to excite him.
Everyone has something they are passionate about doing. Those are the things that we most enjoy, and would gladly give up just about every other activity to do. C seems pretty passionate about his drawing, and I want to stoke that fire and keep that passion going. Maybe someday he'll become a professional artist. Maybe not. But I know he has the ability, and I'm going to make sure he doesn't waste it.
As for J...well, he's only 6, and we're still trying to figure him out. He likes to do a little bit of everything, it's impossible to narrow him down just yet. He, too, has swiped my camera and taken good pictures, so maybe that'll be his thing. Or maybe playing football and trying to break bones will be his thing (is it bad that I'm hoping it'll be the camera that he'll go for?).
Now I just hope I can explain all this to Caroline in such a way that she won't be upset with me. Maybe I can offer to come take some pictures of her son at practice to appease her? We'll see.
Both boys are the long and lean type. They have energy like nobody's business. I'd kill to have just a third of their energy (mainly so I could keep up with them!). Being outside, running, playing, riding bikes, these things are pretty much what they live for. Rainy days, super cold days are the end of the world for them; you could literally think someone died the way they act.
C has a good arm. He can throw a ball pretty far, and I think he throws like a boy (I wouldn't really know; I throw like a girl. What can I say?). The whole hitting the ball with the bat...well, we're working on it. J throws pretty far as well, but he's more into tackling, so I think he'd probably be better suited to football.
Here's my thing, though. I'm a very creative person. I've never been into athletics. Just not my thing. And I'm fine with it if it turns out that athletics are their thing. I used to write poetry and stories (I've lost my inspiration for that though.). Most people who read my writing think I'm pretty good at it. I'm also into photography. I can't draw a picture to save my life, but I can take one with a camera, and my family and most of my friends think I'm pretty talented.
My grandfather (my mom's dad) had an amazing ability with a camera. He could take the most incredible pictures of the most ordinary situations. He could also draw a picture. My mother has a picture that he drew of a log cabin in the woods. I thought that picture was a professionally done picture until my mom told me one day that my grandfather drew it.
The best compliment I think I ever received was when my mom was looking at some pictures I took one day and told me that I had my grandfather's talent with the camera. My grandfather died when I was only 4 or 5 years old, so I have very limited memories of him, but those that I do have are filled with love.
I think C has inherited my grandfather's drawing ability. Obviously, he's only 8 (I'm trying really hard not to think about how he's almost 9), so his work is still a little crude, definitely not perfect, and mostly limited to Spongebob Squarepants and lizards and the like, but what he does draw he does amazingly well. He also seems to have that same natural ability with the camera that my grandfather and I have. I let him take a camera on his field trip a few months ago and he took some photos that were really great, and on other occasions, he's swiped my camera and taken some good pictures.
Which is why, although I appreciate Caroline's enthusiasm and her wish to see my boys play ball and hang out with me while our 3 boys have fun, I think I'm not going to do it.
I think I'd rather encourage the talent that I see in C. He may be great at baseball. And if he wants to play, now or in the future, I will encourage and support him every step of the way. But he shows no real interest in it. His interests really seem to lie with drawing, and other more creative pursuits. I want to encourage that, support that, and know that he is truly enjoying what he is doing than to encourage him to do something that doesn't really seem to excite him.
Everyone has something they are passionate about doing. Those are the things that we most enjoy, and would gladly give up just about every other activity to do. C seems pretty passionate about his drawing, and I want to stoke that fire and keep that passion going. Maybe someday he'll become a professional artist. Maybe not. But I know he has the ability, and I'm going to make sure he doesn't waste it.
As for J...well, he's only 6, and we're still trying to figure him out. He likes to do a little bit of everything, it's impossible to narrow him down just yet. He, too, has swiped my camera and taken good pictures, so maybe that'll be his thing. Or maybe playing football and trying to break bones will be his thing (is it bad that I'm hoping it'll be the camera that he'll go for?).
Now I just hope I can explain all this to Caroline in such a way that she won't be upset with me. Maybe I can offer to come take some pictures of her son at practice to appease her? We'll see.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Has it really been that long?
This month, C turns 9. I shouldn't be surprised by this...after all, I was there when he was born. I remember the pain quite clearly, thank you. But still...it shocks me to realize that he is going to be 9!
I look at him, and sometimes I still see my little boy. My baby that I brought home from the hospital, stayed home with and took care of, and couldn't bear to go back to work when my maternity leave was up. The little boy that I stayed home with and then couldn't stand the thought of going back to work when my marriage ended and I had no choice.
Other times, I see little hints of the man he's going to be someday, someday sooner than I expect or want. His hands are already getting big, and getting the prominent veins that men often have. His face is starting to change too. Probably not in any way noticeable to anyone else, but I see it. He's nearly as tall as I am now, probably by his next birthday, he will be as tall as me, if not taller. His sperm donor was quite tall, as are my parents, but I am on the short side. I used to joke when he was just a baby that one day he would be taller than me, and now that day is almost here.
I also used to joke that I wanted to keep him little forever. I used to swear I was going to invent something, anything, that would keep him my little boy forever. Now, more than ever, I find myself wishing I could do that.
He's growing up way faster than I am ready for. This year he's 9, but soon he'll be 13, or 16, or 18, and I'm not ready. I mean, the first 9 years passed in the blink of an eye, so I can't imagine the next 9 are going to be any slower.
I'm so scared that I can't do a good enough job as his mother to keep him from making huge mistakes that will alter the rest of his life. I worry that he's got too much of his sperm donor in him, and will turn out like him. I know everyone says that the way I raise him is what really counts, but who really knows that for sure?
And yet, at the same time that I have all these fears and doubts, I also can't wait to see what kind of man he's going to be. I want to know what he will do with his future, who he will marry, what kind of kids he will have. Will he be a better father than his own was? I hope so.
I hope he's had enough good male influences in his life to make him better than his sperm donor. My father is a great man, and has always been there for me and the kids. I hope C has paid attention, and is learning from my dad. D has only been around a few months, but I hope he will be around forever. I know he is a lot like my father, and there is a lot about D that I hope C will learn from him about what a man should be. I've had a few male friends, but I've always been hesitant to bring them around the boys. Not only to avoid confusion over whether we're friends or more, but also because those friends are not always the best example of men. They're nice guys, but...sometimes they have issues. And unfortunately, my grandfather, uncles, and cousins all live in another state, so even though they are all wonderful men, they're not in positions to have any influence on my boys.
I've dated since my divorce, but not a whole lot. Part of the reason was that I didn't want to take time from my boys, part of it was that I didn't meet guys that I really wanted to date. After my divorce, when I realized I was going to be raising two boys on my own, trying to make them into men without any real clue how to do that, one thing I did know was that my relationships with men were going to influence my boys. The type of man I would bring home to meet my children would teach them what I think a man should be like, and I didn't want to give them the wrong impression by bringing home the wrong kind of man. Which is why it took 6 years and meeting D before ANY man met the boys. No other man met my standards for what kind of man I would want my sons to look up to. That's not to say I'm dating D just because he could be a good influence, because I'm not. It's just a great added bonus that he's the kind of man I would want my sons to look up to.
Sperm donor is a great example of the kind of guys I used to date (well, except for the whole cheating, lying, blah blah blah):fun to hang out with, intent on showing me a great time with concerts and nightclubs as our dates and not much more than that. Intelligence was a hit and miss thing, and the seriousness of the relationship often depended on how hard I wanted to push for a label. If I didn't push for a label, it wasn't very serious. If I did push, it either got serious or it ended. Either way, it was for the best, but I hated having to push.
Which is another reason I am glad I have my sons. They are the reason that I realized that I needed to change the kind of guy I date. I wouldn't have given D a second look before my kids, because he's gone so much, and he reminds me of my dad. I just never pictured myself with someone like him. Someone who works so hard, even if it's not worth it, who cares so much about everyone around him, who treats me the way a woman should be treated, who looks at me as more than just a girlfriend. He actually wants a relationship, something that can actually lead to a real, long-lasting future. Deep down, that was always what I wanted, but for whatever reason, I never really tried to get it. Without my sons, I might never have found D. I would have kept dating the same kind of guys and spent my entire life miserable and missing out on what I really wanted.
I can't believe C is going to be 9 this month. When I was pregnant with him, I remember wishing that he could be born already, because I was miserable with morning sickness and various pregnant aches and pains. My mom told me I shouldn't wish that, because once you have kids, the time flies by. I didn't take her seriously then, but I do now. I can still almost feel the weight of him in my arms as a newborn, I can still clearly see myself putting him in his bassinet, or crying right along with him when he was up half the night with an upset tummy or teething. And now, he's lost several baby teeth already, he often doesn't want a kiss goodbye or good night, and he already has the attitude of a teenager (those moments are when I most wish he was still a baby!). And J is not far behind.
As much as he will hate it, and as mad as he will get at me, I am going to grab C tonight and give him a huge hug and a kiss, and if I can get him to hold still long enough, I am going to hold him and pretend he's still my very little boy.
I look at him, and sometimes I still see my little boy. My baby that I brought home from the hospital, stayed home with and took care of, and couldn't bear to go back to work when my maternity leave was up. The little boy that I stayed home with and then couldn't stand the thought of going back to work when my marriage ended and I had no choice.
Other times, I see little hints of the man he's going to be someday, someday sooner than I expect or want. His hands are already getting big, and getting the prominent veins that men often have. His face is starting to change too. Probably not in any way noticeable to anyone else, but I see it. He's nearly as tall as I am now, probably by his next birthday, he will be as tall as me, if not taller. His sperm donor was quite tall, as are my parents, but I am on the short side. I used to joke when he was just a baby that one day he would be taller than me, and now that day is almost here.
I also used to joke that I wanted to keep him little forever. I used to swear I was going to invent something, anything, that would keep him my little boy forever. Now, more than ever, I find myself wishing I could do that.
He's growing up way faster than I am ready for. This year he's 9, but soon he'll be 13, or 16, or 18, and I'm not ready. I mean, the first 9 years passed in the blink of an eye, so I can't imagine the next 9 are going to be any slower.
I'm so scared that I can't do a good enough job as his mother to keep him from making huge mistakes that will alter the rest of his life. I worry that he's got too much of his sperm donor in him, and will turn out like him. I know everyone says that the way I raise him is what really counts, but who really knows that for sure?
And yet, at the same time that I have all these fears and doubts, I also can't wait to see what kind of man he's going to be. I want to know what he will do with his future, who he will marry, what kind of kids he will have. Will he be a better father than his own was? I hope so.
I hope he's had enough good male influences in his life to make him better than his sperm donor. My father is a great man, and has always been there for me and the kids. I hope C has paid attention, and is learning from my dad. D has only been around a few months, but I hope he will be around forever. I know he is a lot like my father, and there is a lot about D that I hope C will learn from him about what a man should be. I've had a few male friends, but I've always been hesitant to bring them around the boys. Not only to avoid confusion over whether we're friends or more, but also because those friends are not always the best example of men. They're nice guys, but...sometimes they have issues. And unfortunately, my grandfather, uncles, and cousins all live in another state, so even though they are all wonderful men, they're not in positions to have any influence on my boys.
I've dated since my divorce, but not a whole lot. Part of the reason was that I didn't want to take time from my boys, part of it was that I didn't meet guys that I really wanted to date. After my divorce, when I realized I was going to be raising two boys on my own, trying to make them into men without any real clue how to do that, one thing I did know was that my relationships with men were going to influence my boys. The type of man I would bring home to meet my children would teach them what I think a man should be like, and I didn't want to give them the wrong impression by bringing home the wrong kind of man. Which is why it took 6 years and meeting D before ANY man met the boys. No other man met my standards for what kind of man I would want my sons to look up to. That's not to say I'm dating D just because he could be a good influence, because I'm not. It's just a great added bonus that he's the kind of man I would want my sons to look up to.
Sperm donor is a great example of the kind of guys I used to date (well, except for the whole cheating, lying, blah blah blah):fun to hang out with, intent on showing me a great time with concerts and nightclubs as our dates and not much more than that. Intelligence was a hit and miss thing, and the seriousness of the relationship often depended on how hard I wanted to push for a label. If I didn't push for a label, it wasn't very serious. If I did push, it either got serious or it ended. Either way, it was for the best, but I hated having to push.
Which is another reason I am glad I have my sons. They are the reason that I realized that I needed to change the kind of guy I date. I wouldn't have given D a second look before my kids, because he's gone so much, and he reminds me of my dad. I just never pictured myself with someone like him. Someone who works so hard, even if it's not worth it, who cares so much about everyone around him, who treats me the way a woman should be treated, who looks at me as more than just a girlfriend. He actually wants a relationship, something that can actually lead to a real, long-lasting future. Deep down, that was always what I wanted, but for whatever reason, I never really tried to get it. Without my sons, I might never have found D. I would have kept dating the same kind of guys and spent my entire life miserable and missing out on what I really wanted.
I can't believe C is going to be 9 this month. When I was pregnant with him, I remember wishing that he could be born already, because I was miserable with morning sickness and various pregnant aches and pains. My mom told me I shouldn't wish that, because once you have kids, the time flies by. I didn't take her seriously then, but I do now. I can still almost feel the weight of him in my arms as a newborn, I can still clearly see myself putting him in his bassinet, or crying right along with him when he was up half the night with an upset tummy or teething. And now, he's lost several baby teeth already, he often doesn't want a kiss goodbye or good night, and he already has the attitude of a teenager (those moments are when I most wish he was still a baby!). And J is not far behind.
As much as he will hate it, and as mad as he will get at me, I am going to grab C tonight and give him a huge hug and a kiss, and if I can get him to hold still long enough, I am going to hold him and pretend he's still my very little boy.
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