Blood Money

Sooooo... My mother in law's house is titled to her and my father in law, rather than her and/or my father in law. When he died 18 months ago nobody thought to check and there was no probate... so legally the house became 3/4 hers and 1/4 Jeff's. When Jeff died, his 1/4 legally became mine.

Legally I own part of her house.

So now we start probate on his estate and also on Jeff's.

She is freaking out, assuming that I'm out for as much money as I can legally carry away... but even though I'm entitled to it legally, morally it just doesn't feel right. It feels like blood money. Even if we had no problems, even if we were happy and settled when he died I still wouldn't feel like that money was something that I should take. It's hers, and I want no claim to it. I want his debts taken care of, but beyond that I just want to walk away.

I've been trying to walk away. The last six months of my life has been me trying to get my life back and leave all of this behind. Now I'm heading into 6 to 8 months of probate nightmare. 6 to 8 months of paperwork and court appearances.

Our go-between from the funeral is acting as a go-between for all of this. Thank god for her. Were meeting with the lawyer next week to start this process.

I just want this to end.

To The Fabulous Michelle:

Forgive me, Massage Mistress, for I have sinned.

I have been knitting like a mad crazy machine for three days and my hands, wrists, arms and shoulders are a mess. My lower back is tight and my ass is asleep. (AciPhex, AciPhex).

And I still have 3 more inches on this Sock of Death to go... and then Monkey socks to finish.
By Friday.

I am stretching, and using my heating pad to ease my poor, overworked shoulders... but as for my massage Saturday morning, well, I'm afraid you're going to have a craptastic mess to deal with.

With your healing hands, I will be relaxed and blissed out... and forever grateful.

Much love and servitude,

J.

The Mother's Day Blues

I have gotten lots of cards and emails and text messages wishing me a happy Mother's Day.
It doesn't feel like a happy Mother's Day.
I think my days of "happy, carefree, mild-mannered Bean" are over. Way over.

She wanted to "stay home" this weekend - which I thought was really cool... but she didn't actually stay home. She spent Friday night with my mom telling her that I "didn't hear" her and that she wished I would do something besides sleep. For the record, I have not been sleeping as much as I did before Barlteby died. I have been awake and making dinner in the evenings. We have been busy most nights - between knitting night and our grief group and dinner with friends. We have been talking and laughing and watching TV together. She wanted to see a movie this weekend and I just couldn't afford it, so Saturday we went to lunch at her favorite BBQ place and then to Twist for knitting. She even got to go to a carnival that was going on near Twist with her friend M while I knitted. She asked me to take her to the carnival but with the broken foot I had to say no. She didn't say anything, but her attitude shifted a little.
I was glad that M was around and wanting to go too.

When they got back she didn't knit, she just sprawled out in a chair with her eyes closed, barely able to contain the extent of her boredom. I sort of wanted to smack her.

Then she decided to go with her sisters and spend the rest of the weekend with her dad.
I made dinner and Sally came over and we knitted and talked about men and cats and healing.

Bean and I talked about it a little bit. My mom asked her if it was OK to share her feelings with me. She said it was fine, but that I wouldn't listen. She said she wished I would ask her to come with me when I did fun things with my friends. It's sort of difficult to manage that when she is not home on the weekends! We had decided to see a second run movie this afternoon before she decided to go with her sisters... double standard anyone? If I had cancelled the movie to go somewhere without her she would have had a nuclear meltdown.

What bothers me is that she thinks I don't "hear" her. That she thinks I am ignoring her, when I have tried very hard through this whole thing to make sure that she knew I was OK and here for her.

I know that part of it is the age... She's 11 (going on 15) and I am losing IQ points every day. How could I ever possible know what it's like to be an awkward, hormonal teenage girl? I knew that hatching fully grown from that egg was going to cause problems sooner or later.

And she has been through a lot lately... but I feel like I am failing her. She is supposed to know that I love her and that I am hearing her when she talks to me. I am supposed to be providing her with a safe, comfortable home life so that when things happen or when she needs me she knows I am here.

She feels left out a lot... at school and with her sisters, and I know that the end of the school year is really weighing on her this year. She has been at the same school with more or less the same kids since kindergarten and now she's facing the end of that comfort zone, and a new school and new kids. That's not easy.

On the other hand, I also don't want to feel like I have to step to attention and comply just because she is bored. She is not a spoiled child, but it feels like there is quite a bit more attitude now when she doesn't get her way. I don't respond well to attitude. And I am allowed to make plans without her. I am allowed to enjoy my time alone.

I have to figure out how to balance her needs with my needs with reality... and I have no idea how to do it. I am off balance on the best of days, and her hot and cold crap is not helping. You'd think she was a Scorpio!

Hard

Our first support group meeting was tonight. I have told the story so many times that I didn't think I could cry about it anymore.

I am often wrong.

I walked into the room with the rest of the parents and all I wanted to do was leave. I didn't want to share with these people. I didn't want to hear their sad, sad stories. I didn't want to talk about it anymore. I wanted a cigarette. I wanted to run.
Instead I sat on the end of one of the couches and pulled out my knitting.

Socks. The ones I started March 1st. The ones that I thought would NEVER EVER END. (I'm on the toe decreases. Hallelujah).

It was interesting (from a clinical distance) to watch us all come in with our calm faces and composure, then fall one by one. I'm sure we all told ourselves, "I'm not going to cry. I'm not going to say more than I absolutely have to. I can get through this." I know that's what I thought. I thought I was comfortable with the story, but even in this abbreviated version I heard things come out of my mouth that made a liar out of my demeanor.

I was not the only one who found the body.
I was not the only one with the complication of impending divorce.
I was not the only one who didn't want to be there.

I was not the biggest mess in the room. By far.

When it was over I just wanted to go home, but I had promised Bean we would get ice cream.
This is going to be harder than I thought...

(If he had not died, if we had just gotten divorced this would be over by now. I could be OK by now. I wouldn't have to sit in a room full of strangers and feel like I was being torn in half. Again. Can't this just be over already? When do I get my life back?).

"Like Twinkie Crack"

Several people I know (online and otherwise) are making an effort to eat at home...
This is a challenge for me. It assumes a level of organization and forethought that I don't typically manage.

But I can try!

We did eat at home last night. That bad, bad man brought steaks and we made creamy garlic mashed potatoes and strawberry shortcake... though I couldn't find the little shortcakes so I bought Twinkies instead. (Heh heh heh). It was good. Way good. And I had a conversation about Twinkies with the checker. It went something like this:

Checker: Oh, I love Twinkies.
Me: Uh huh
Checker: I bought another brand once and it just wasn't the same
Me: Yeah, the filling is different and the cake is never as moist
Checker: But there is something else... I just don't know what...
Me: It's the added crack.
Checker: Crack?
Me: Yup. Crack. It's why they're so addictive.
Checker: Oh right! Like Twinkie Crack!!

I should be more careful about talking to strangers.

And I know that the whole "eating at home" philosophy does NOT include Twinkies (unless you make them yourself without HFCS or butter or processed sugar or crack) but baby steps here, people!

I have been trying to remember some of the recipes I used to make... when it was just Bean and I. I stopped cooking things that Bartleby wouldn't eat, which means that for the last 4 years or so all I have been cooking is pasta, hamburgers, chili and grilled cheese sandwiches. More or less. It's no surprise that I stopped having fun in the kitchen... but now the doors are wide open. Frittatas and casseroles and vegetables other than corn, peas and green beans.

Weekend Fun

I had a very good weekend. Good friends and good food... and my hair is red again.
I had forgotten how much I love that chemical smell, reminding me of days working in the salon. I had forgotten how much I love being red. There is fortification in it. Attitude.
These days a girl could use a little attitude.

I was up walking around WAY too much, though, and last night my foot was so swollen I couldn't move my toes. I need to be more careful. To remember that just because something doesn't hurt to the touch it can still be broken. Too much pressure on something broken could keep it from healing properly.
(This metaphor brought to you by the letters S and P, and by the number 13).

I also read a lot this weekend. The Story of a Marriage: A Novel, which was amazing and surprising and dark, and The Girl With No Shadow. Also amazing and beautifully written, it's the sequel to Chocolat. I know that Roux was a character long before Johnny Depp played him, but now Roux and Johnny are linked to me. While I usually hate this when I am reading I find that this time I don't mind it so much.

Kerri and I had lunch today, and I ate so much that I wasn't hungry at all on the way to work. Now, though, eight hours have passed and I wish I had brought something.

My client has arrived... no more time to write.
Hope you all had a good weekend too!

Reminders

(In which my Super-Ego lectures my Id... which has admittedly been running a little wild and unchecked lately).

1) Take your medications. Every day. Every. Day.
Don't get in bed and get all comfortable and then think, "I don't want to get up, I'll take them tomorrow morning." You will forget. And then someone will compliment your hair and you will start crying. And you will not stop.

2) Your child is a teenager in every way except actual age.
She is hormonal and moody and unpredictable and has not yet learned to harness her powers and use them for good instead of evil. Also? This makes you the dumbest person on the planet. You (social worker, woman who has been around the block so many times there is a groove there, mother, former teenage girl) can not POSSIBLY understand the things that are going on with her. Because you have had a charmed life, and have never felt the true emotional pain that comes from having a really bad time on a filed trip and being tired the next day. Don't let it get to you... her Super-Ego is still trying to figure shit out. It will all be fine.

3) Plan ahead for breakfast and lunch.
It s cheaper and healthier to just spend a few minutes thinking about what to keep on hand... and then just throw stuff in your bag in the morning than it is to eat crap you pick up on the way. If you don't plan ahead and then are running late and can't stop and then nobody else is around to bring you something you will be sad. Very sad. And also hungry. You will start fantasizing about food that comes with gravy on it. And also Twinkies.

4) Cigarettes are not magic and will not make you feel better.
You're done with all of that now. Mostly. It's bad for you and while it might make you fell better for a few minutes the stress will still be there. Too bad you don't get high anymore. Maybe you should just have a lot of sex.

5) Stop ordering things online.
Until you win the lottery and/or find a "sugar daddy" you can not afford to keep this pace going. Also there is not enough space in your house for that much yarn. There just isn't. Stop it.