Made the Move

Which you know if you're reading this.

I know that blogs are really public domain, but there are just some things that the idiot step mother doesn't need to know about me. I know it's weird that I am comfortable sharing my deep dark self with everyone else on the planet...
But I need to keep her at a more comfortable distance.

She's not a bad person, just manipulative with boundary issues.

Thanks for following me to the new address. Hopefully this will take care of it!!

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changin!

Hey friends... I'm changing this blog address to, um, deter some unwanted interest.

It's not that I don't love all the attention and all... but a girl's gotta draw the line somewhere.

SO... if you want to keep following my crazy boring life send me an email to:
naploverchange (at) gmail (dot) com
and I'll send you the new address.

Thanks for all of your support!!

Frustration

When oh when oh WHEN is the idiot step mother going to realize I am not the enemy??? I don't care enough about her to want to fuck with her. I wouldn't have anything to do with her AT ALL if she weren't married to Bean's dad and ALL I want from him is to raise a happy, well-adjusted child.

Does she not understand that there really is no drama here?

Does she not understand that I have rights to things (like more child support) that I'm not even bothering with because it is important to me that Bean's dad and I work together rather than fight for then next 5 years?!?

I have said a hundred million times that I don't care how she feels about me or what she says about me as long as the ex and I are OK... and I mean that... but it is so tiresome to hear about the things she says.

Seriously? It's a small town, people, and there are like, two degrees of separation between me and everyone else. She knows this. Is she just baiting me? Is there really nothing else in her life more important that saying things about me that are unkind and also untrue??

And what is so threatening about me? She has nothing that I want. There is no competition here. I'm not one of those ex-wives who calls constantly and bothers my ex-husband. I don't call him at all unless it has something directly to do with our daughter.

The only expectation that I have of either of them are that they take care of Bean when she is with them and they treat me with respect. Why is that last part so hard for her?!?

And another thing...

Book update...
(See what happens when I don't blog for awhile?!?)

I noticed that I have been lagging behind my Blog Friend in terms of reading. She's on book 23.
I finished Such a Pretty Fat by Jen Lancaster(18). Still love her, and her new book is coming soon!!! We all have our fake boyfriends - like Ewan McGregor secretly loves me and wants to marry me - Jen is my secret best friend. (Call me, Jen!! SBFF!!)

I also finished another Alice Hoffman book, Blackbird House(19) (Really, really good) and I read a galley of a book that's not published yet called The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane by Katherine Howe(20). The publisher sent me an advance copy through Watermark - I think because of the Literary Feast.

Here's my mini-review:
Overall this is a good book - the story is engaging and the history is interesting. I did find that the "back story" about the life of Deliverance Dane was more interesting than what was going on with the current-day main character, so I wanted so much more of that. Also, I have a real issue with writing in dialect and there is a LOT of it in this book. But Katherine is a good writer and the characters are interesting and fleshed out enough. There was no "mystery" to it, though I think there was supposed to be, and the things that were meant to be revelations in the end weren't all that shocking to me... but the journey of this book is so worth any disappointments in the end. I am looking forward to what Katherine Howe has for us next.

No Small Thing

(I had a totally sweet April Fool's Blog planned, but since Fate and Karma and whoever else are still watching me like a hawk I'm going to just save that one...)

It's been a hell of a week.

Thursday night the ex-husband was in the ER with symptoms that suggested a mild stroke. Um. MOMMY SAID NO. So I was freaked out and worried and terrified of what something like that was going to do to my already fragile Bean, especially so close to the anniversary of Jeff's death. So I waited until we had more information before I said anything to her. She assumed that he was in the ER for hurting his neck (and I still haven't corrected this assumption... his neck DOES hurt). It was all fine, in his words he's "just an idiot." He took the wrong meds that morning and got a strong dose of what the stepmother takes at night.

So he's fine.
Which is good.

Then Friday ice started to fall from the sky... I got my errands done (including stopping by Twist for Cookie A's new book) and went home to snuggle with the kitties.

I didn't end up going to the party... for two reasons, neither of which had anything to do with my anxiety. First, there were eleventy-billion inches of ice and snow on the ground and I thought it might be better to not drive. Second, I was totally asleep all day. I got up, took care of grandma, went to work for a few hours and then came home and sleeeeeeeeeeept.

In preparation for the storm I bought three kinds of cheese and two kinds of crackers, salad stuff, apples, sandwich stuff and ingredients for two kinds of soup. So on Saturday I would wake up and eat an apple and some cheese and then sleep for a few more hours. Then I woke up and made a sandwich and ran some laundry through and then back to sleep.

Sunday morning I took care of grandma and came back home and worked on two papers, ran more laundry through and read and read and read. I didn't even nap in the afternoon! I also watched Lars and the Real Girl, which was good, but not as funny as I assumed it would be, and the first disc of season two of Big Love.

I thought that I was doing OK with this whole anniversary thing. (Sleeping all day Saturday should maybe have been a clue, but it WAS a snow day!!!).

Then Monday I had a hard time getting out of bed. My intention was to get up and go to the radio station for a few hours and then meet my friend K for lunch before class. I ended up staying in bed until I had to leave to meet K and only getting up then because I told myself that I couldn't have a Xanax unless I put my big girl panties on and left the house. Then I had 5 hours of class. One hour of which was spent listening to the teacher talk about a funeral she just came from. Luckily I have a girl posse at school, too. S kept me supplied with cigarettes on break and D kept me laughing.

I only have one teacher who just met me this semester and I warned him ahead of time. I'm sure he heard about it last year, he just didn't know it was me. It is amazing to me how many people knew through the different grapevines. D, for example, is married to a police officer and knew about it before my mom took me home that morning. When the officers at my house found out I was in the MSW program they called D's husband to see if she knew me. She is absolutely someone you can call at 3 a.m. with information like that, and I didn't know until recently, but she became my "bouncer" at school in the same way that Andie was my bouncer at work.

Girl Posse rocks.

I picked Bean up from her friend's house and we went home to watch Big Bang Theory. We were both asleep before 9.

Yesterday I couldn't get out of bed again. It's really a two-day anniversary... there's the day he died and then there is the next day when I found him. It's kind of a 2-day grief-for-all. I called in and slept for a few more hours. I took a shower. I watched bad TV. I didn't read, I didn't knit. It was sort of scary being back in the blank place I was last year. I just didn't want anything.

That Bad, Bad Man came over around 2, spreading comfort and joy and good cheer and Bean came home crying around 3... her boyfriend had broken up with her. (That would be the boyfriend she acquired the day before). There was much hugging and comforting, then he went home and Bean and I met Sally and Andie for dinner (Woot! Girl posse). So we ended up having a very nice evening.

I still feel fuzzy and my mind the urge to drive home and crawl right back in bed is so strong, but I'm not going to. Not yet anyway. I'm going to make it until lunchtime and see how I feel, then maybe I'll try for a few more hours.

But we made it 365 days.
And while I'm exhausted and not quite 100% I'm still standing. Still breathing, still laughing, still knitting, still graduating in 6 weeks.

Social Anxiety Strikes Again

It's hard for people who know me to understand how much of my life is governed by my social anxiety. I seem very outgoing and not at ALL shy... but mostly that's just because I stay inside my comfort zone and surround myself with my "girl posse." But take me out of my comfort zone and make me go by myself and I'm more than awkward turtle, I'm scared awkward turtle.

I have been invited to a birthday party. A grown-up one in a bar I've never been to with trendy, hip people I don't know. I know the birthday girl... sort of... but I don't know anyone else.
Guess what that does to my social anxiety.
I was fairly non-committal about whether I could go.

I want to go.

I want to dress up and meet new people and be funny and (pretty) and interesting.

But I know myself. It's WAAAAAAAAAAY out of my comfort zone. Wanting to go and actually going are two completely different things. I know that everyone's advice will be, "So go!! Have a good time!"
But it's really not that easy.

When I got the invitation I started to sweat, knowing that I would then have to make a decision, knowing that making that decision is completely impossible. I could decide right now that I am going to go. I could get dressed and put on makeup and carry extra lipstick in my small purse and even get there and park. And still not be able to go in.

I bought her a present... one of those FAB-O candles from Bohemia. If I don't go I can save it for the next gift-giving occasion.

I feel like Ira. From Ira Sleeps Over. Anyone else remember that book? ("'He won't laugh,' said my father. 'He won't laugh,' said my mother. 'He'll laugh,' said my sister.")

I know that come Saturday night I'll be sitting on my metaphorical steps, with my metaphorical overnight bag packed, still trying to decide if I should take my metaphorical teddy bear or not.

In the end, Ira was fine and the sleepover was fun... but Ira was not worried about saying something stupid, and Ira was not blown-glass fragile and prone to open and uncontrollable weeping. And Ira? Was just going next door to sleep at his best friend's house.

I want to go.
I'm going to try to go.

More Whining about the Teenager

Many thanks to Lara for inviting Bean and I over last night. It gave me a chance to knit with one of my good friends without Bean feeling left out or ignored... because Lara's daughter M is one of Bean's good friends and so she got to talk to M and totally ignore me. Which was great.

So we had chicken and salad and cheese and crackers and Twilight. (Hi, Edward? I love you. Call me!)

I even got to play with a baby. Lara babysits for her niece - a happy, chubby 5-month-old who only stops smiling to drool more effectively. She sat with me for awhile and babbled and laughed and drooled on me. Usually spending that kind of time with a baby that happy and cute makes my ovaries start to vibrate. Luckily I have a teenage daughter, so I'm safe.

I love my daughter. I love her more than anything or anyone else in my life... but she has officially been replaced by the pod people.

My mother, who is usually totally on Bean's side no matter what, said, "Fuck her. She's playing you and she is acting like a spoiled little brat." I was like, "Mom?!?"
She said that when my sister and I started acting like "Spoiled little bitches" she and dad decided to just ignore us, knowing that we "would be ok."

Right.

Except my sister had an abortion at 14 and I was drunk in Jr. High a LOT and also? There may have been some half-hearted suicide attempts. But we (apparently) aren't going to talk about that. Or think about it.
I'm not taking those chances with Bean.

But there also has to be some kind of balance between what Bean needs and what I need. There has to be some balance between doing everything I can for her and taking care of myself.

So we had a pretty good night last night... she got a little bossy with the younger kids and I corrected her and got the "MU-ther" death glare, and she and M left the movie-watching festivities to go to the park for awhile... but that was actually a blessing. Mommy needs a break from the tension.

At bedtime I did get a little weepy and she came in and wanted to know what was wrong. I thought she was already in bed, so was really embarrassed. I can't tell her that what's bothering me is that my child is CRAZY and I don't know which way is up. I said that I was just feeling really overwhelmed and inadequate at home and at work and at school. I did not want to admit that to her - I'm supposed to be strong and supportive of her needs right now.

She tried to comfort me and I let her, for a little while, but it felt wrong. And not just because she is the child and I am supposed to have better boundaries than that.

You know what part of the problem is? I don't feel like I have anyone on my side. Her dad has the idiot stepmother, my mom had my dad... but I'm hanging out here by myself with no home team. And I know that my friends are on my side, and my mom is (clearly) on my side... but it would be nice at the end of the day to have someone to hold me and reassure me and help me plot revenge... er... I mean... discipline appropriately.

Things are just feeling a little lonely on my side of the line at home. I'm not saying I want to get remarried, but right now I miss having a husband. Not my husband circa this time last year... but a husband husband.

Oh well.