stir until crazy

Having completely squicked myself out with self-help books on understanding abusive sexual addictions, I tossed the lot and picked up some books on zen philosophy. I have been the only person doing any squaring in this squaring-off with Mike, and I say he can sing ballads under my balcony with roses in his teeth (up his nose?) while I squander my evenings reading in the tub; this ickiness is his to face, not mine.  It's a bit hard getting through non-fiction while getting sidetracked by Harry Potter, but it's a nice change after the nastiness of the other stuff.


use the CATALOG!

Today I have been stir crazy. Heather threw a handful of chocolates at me as I snarled past her office, flapping my stacks of book reviews. Moment for self-examination: will these chocolates bring me pleasure, or will they bring me happiness? Pleasure, surely. But they also prevent me from shaking patrons by the hair, so that counts towards some sort of happiness. It is comforting to have newfound spiritualosity.

edited to add: whoever thinks it is funny to have a tiny kitten meow as their cell phone ring tone is going to find their locker bashed open. Any day now. Just sayin.

did what now?

Gavin got his first kiss today - then his first reprimand for kissing at daycare. He shrugged about it as he explained what happened this evening, "She kissed my cheek, and cheek, and lips." He pointed to each. "She said she had to kiss me cause I'm hers boyfriend. I don't want to be hers boyfriend. I want her to kiss me on my cheek, not my lips. When we eat lunch she goes, gimme yous fruit! and I tell hers no, it's my fruit, and she says wah gimme pweeeeze wah and I don't want to give it to hers cause I'm hungwy and she's whining." He sighed. "She says I has to cause I'm hers boyfriend. But I don't. Oh well." I think I made a strangled noise. I thought about the little girl's sparkling pink Disney Princess hoof-shoes and imagined her clippity-clopping on my son's arm to the prom, adjusting her plastic tiara and eating off his plate. 

Yikes.

barf

On Wednesday, I bragged about how great it is having an older child who sleeps through the night, and Gavin spent the next night vomiting from 1am - 6am. I assured Gavin that it's normal for kids to throw up, and that when he grows up he won't do it as much, then I spent Thursday night vomiting from 10pm - 5am. I need to shut up.

Friday was a soggy blur of naps, movies, and tea. Children of Men was stressful, The Devil Wears Prada disappointed me because it did not, in fact, star Glen Close as Satan. I tried reading in bed and woke up 4 hours later with a fever, so took a couple ibuprofen and watched the last disc of Arrested Development. Mike picked up Gavin and made dinner, and then he got sick, too. I am hoping he is the only father who has been infected with our flu, and that everything is purged before Father's Day. Advance apologies to Marc and all the dads at Gavin's daycare.

Sort of a sad week.

stalkers, police, and fishies

Marc has earned himself his donut for a daring exhibition of super-sleuthing, and for not being the person unconscious under the bushes (that was a drunk person). Now we are armed with the powers of INFORMATION, because he followed my stalker stalker on his lunch break and figured out how far from my apartment he lives (too far to get to me on foot, which is good).

I took a break from writing my latest incident report to push through the crowded lobby and stand in the 98 degree afternoon waiting for my policemen. SRP event #2 was a success. Librarian wins. The auditorium was packed, the officers trotted in their dogs to gasps and cheers, and they brought fantastic BPD badge stickers and collectible photo information cards of themselves. They wowed the crowd with a story about this morning's showdown with an armed robber, the dogs leaped and rolled and flung slobber on toddlers, and I basked in sweet, sweet victory over last week's humiliation. The boys, having enjoyed the frolicking police and waited in line for Officer Handsome's autograph, took me out to a Korean bbq joint for dinner, where I found myself eyeball-to-eyeballs with a bowl of tiny dried fish. I felt a bit guilty eating so many little dead creatures in one sitting, but they brought me right back to my cuttlefish youth, and I was very pleased by them. 

In summary: good week.

turpentine

One night alone a week, always looking not to be.

Agreed to go out with a co-worker. Dark pool hall, laughing tattooed dwarf bartender swinging his cue stick, smell of stale beer, a hand on my waist. I don't want to be here.

At a restaurant afterwards, there was a girl in wedge sandals and a Forever21 corset leaning against the bathroom sink unsteadily. "Don't I need Botox? Look at my eyes." They were caked in mascara but managed to focus on me for a moment. "No, you're beautiful." Went out to find my co-worker talking to some people. A Nigerian man with a British accent squeezed my hand, "Why is your drink still full?" I didn't take another sip of it. I don't want to be here.

Finally went back home.

The next day I got my kid back again. We rummaged through my box of old photos. Gavin pulled one out, looked at it for a long time, and put it on the fridge.

Bloomington, Indiana, summer 1986:




Heads together, rolled up on the bed, safe and together and all the time in the world.
This is where I want to be.

walking my mind to an easy time

My baby somehow stopped being a baby this year. Yesterday morning he wrapped his arms around my ribs in his sleep and rolled onto me. I tucked my chin over his head and felt his toes resting on my shins. I've measured him by how far his toes reach while he's sleeping on me; when he was born they curled against my navel, when he was 2 they rested above my knees. They're fast on their way to my own toes, now.

We ate cereal together and sat around on the couch for a bit. He leaned against me watching cartoons while I read. Some of his drawings from daycare are laying on the table - he wrote his own name on all of them. As we walked to the car, he slipped in the wet grass and fell onto the parkinglot asphalt, skinning his knees and hands. He brushed himself off and chuckled, "I ok, I just fell down, that's all." He cringed a bit as he climbed into his carseat. "Mom, how long is it going to hurt?" I turned and put my frozen quesadilla on his knee, and for a moment we looked at it melting there before laughing.

The ride was quiet, radio softly burning holes in me.

Oh, I've seen fire and I've seen rain
I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end
I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend
But I always thought that I'd see you again

I've sucked it up and agreed to return to New York this summer in order to allow my boy a visit with his family, maybe a trip to Lake George. The decision disturbed some of the internal sediment, the radio regained a bit of bite. I glanced back and saw him staring hard out the car window, hands clasped in his lap, contemplating the music and landscape as well. Small glimpse into his adult self, and it looks very much like me.