Perspective

Today I realized that I have one more week of my 30s and I'm not really happy about that. If I'm not happy about that, why have I said for the last 6 months, "I'm almost 40." Every time it's exited my mouth I have thought, "Why did you say that? You should have said you're 39 because soon, nothing in your life will be 30 anything?!" I don't know, I just kept doing it. So now, here I am one week left in my 30s and I'm realizing I'll never be able to say that I'm 30 something. I blame all of this age-phobia sounding diatribe on my parents who refuse to acknowledge birthdays or accept that yes, someday they ARE going to die (not to be morbid, just realistic). At the rate of their facial "treatments", I'm going to look older than them in the next 10-20 years. How's that for giving you a complex?

Then for an unexpected smack in the face, I opened up the Census mailing. The first statement is: "The Census must count every person living in the U.S. on April 1, 2010." Instantly, I realize that I will be counted in this Census even though I will be 40 but Mark will not be because he's dead. If that doesn't put 40 in perspective, I don't know what does. It's these random events/things that really makes Mark's death hit home. Another one is the fact that my digestive tract can finally tolerate small amounts of caffeine and doesn't balk at eating during the daylight hours. I just realized last week that it's been since around Mark's diagnosis on March 27, 2008 that I have been able to do those two things without severe consequences. That's 2 YEARS that my physiological system has been violently reacting to Mark's painful journey. It's amazing to me and surreal to think about. Part of me wants to hold it up and out and say, "See! Even though I wasn't his wife, his pain and death affected me tremendously." Even though I held it together and made it through day by day, my body told the true story and while I would get frustrated and angry at it for not allowing me more eating freedom, now I am proud of it because it just bears witness to the fact that he was almost as close to me as family. In some senses he was closer because he was there during the horribly bad times and he did not desert me as many did.

All this from the Census questionnaire...

What Day Is It Anyways?

When V. is out of town, non-school days get confusing. When I. has school, it serves as the day's definition. As in today must be Monday because after dropping I. off at school, I head directly over to the therapist's office for a mind dump. Today is chapel day at school, therefore it must be Wednesday. But Friday through Sunday without V. here is no man's land. Yesterday I could have sworn it was Sunday, it just felt like Sunday the whole day until I got stuck in the Friday afternoon traffic on the way home which I didn't anticipate because I thought it was Sunday.

Today is Saturday and truthfully, it feels like a weekday so far. On top of it, we move the clocks ahead tonight so come tomorrow I'll really be confused. The only thing that helps Sundays feel like Sundays are the 2 big newspapers waiting on the porch for me. Without V. here, those define a Sunday.

This post has to qualify as the MOST BORING post ever. Sorry, I'll strive for a more interesting one next time.

Nine Years Ago

Nine years ago today, history was made. Two broken, cynical, suspicious, self-protective friends/work peers simultaneously had their eyes, minds, and hearts opened and discovered that each other was what they had been looking for even though they technically weren't even looking. Both successfully running their own offices in different cities within the same company, sometimes competing, sometimes catching the other sending a spy via telephone to get information and often times joking with one another over the phone during the workweek.

March 9, 2001 a visit was made as a friend to the other's home to be shown the sights and tastes of their respective city. After a delicious lunch at an authentic and very casual Mexican joint and a nice drive down the coast in a convertible, clothes were changed to go out for a night of music, drinks, and possibly some dancing. However, they never made it out because once the send-off drink of Jack Daniels and Absolut was poured and Eric Clapton was put on, the mental parrying began and for 10 hours this verbal inquisition continued. By the end of it, they knew that this was really IT and they became each other's closest ally in the workplace and personally, fell deeply and completely in love, something they never thought they would experience due to bad experiences.

March 9th, a special day, the day that laid the foundation for the rest of my life - the day V. and I fell in love and never looked back.

It's One of Those Days

You know that day that begins with you looking in the mirror in the morning and saying to yourself, "I HAVE to wash my hair tonight." And that very same day, walking very slowly back into that same bathroom after putting the child(ren) to bed, looking into that very same mirror and saying to yourself as you shake your head, "I just don't have it in me, it'll have to wait 'til tomorrow." Yeah, that's today for me. I wonder if it would look odd tomorrow to don the Middle Eastern red and white turban that V. brought home with him and cover my hideously filthy hair? If I don't get some real sleep tonight I just might do it.

Which leads me to my next point which is really the driving force behind this post and my ongoing dirty hair saga. I'm not getting the sleep I need! I. was sick beginning last Friday so there were a couple of nights where she woke up with diarrhea and I was more than happy to take care of it. HOWEVER, since then, she has decided that it is grand to start calling and crying in the middle of the night instead of turning over and going to sleep. On top of this, V. has gotten up very early the last 2 days to go to work and I suspected that I. was seeing the light from downstairs and it was leading her to reach the erroneous conclusion that we ALL need to be getting up in the middle of the night. The night before last, she was up crying 5 times and as a result, I was up from 1:30-5 am. She fell back asleep around 3 but I was still so wired and anticipating what was going to happen when V. opened up the garage door that I couldn't fall back asleep. So that night I got 2 hours before the torture began and about 2.5 hours after before she started calling for me again in the morning.

I thought I had the problem solved last night when I troubleshot the whole situation and came up with the following 2 solutions:

1. V. was only allowed to use the lights that had dimmer switches on them and then only at the lowest level without him eating in the dark.
2. I put a folded up towel along the bottom edge of I.'s door so that no light would be visible from under it.

No such luck - I. began crying right before 5 am and when I went in there she announced that she wasn't tired. Well, being that my best sleep, really my only decent sleep, takes place after 4:30am, I wasn't really very thrilled to hear this pronouncement. I gave her some books to look at in bed, told her I loved her, that I for one was VERY tired and I would see her in the morning when it was time to actually get up. Then I walked out. As you might expect she didn't take too kindly to my point of view and began screaming and crying. I thanked my lucky stars that V. had already left for the airport because he NEVER would have made it through a long, prolonged crying session. I'm of course just a heartless bitch so I told myself that she was safe albeit very unhappy and proceeded to put on those BOSE noise cancelling headphones that V. gave me for Christmas that I wondered when in the world I would use them. Well, here's the answer, I used them this morning and they worked well enough for me to relax, doze off and even grab a little sleep for the next 1.5 hours so that I could at least partially function today. Just call me Mean Momma...

When I went in to get her, the first thing I. says to me is,"What was that light I saw over there?" and she points to her door. I ask her to show me where she is talking about and she scrunches down to the very corner edge of the door and points. I look around the edge of the door to see where is that damn towel and it appears that there was a 1/4 inch gap between the towel and the door which must have let in that pinprick of light from the ultra-dimmed lights this morning which caused another torturous morning.

I don't really need to tell you how meticulous I will be about that damn towel tonight, do I? V.'s gone for the next 2 weeks so I'm hoping, with my fingers, toes, legs, and eyes crossed that without anybody creeping around in the dead of night, maybe we can get I. out of this habit, this energy sapping, mind altering habit. For all of our sakes, I really hope so.

After breakfast I. acted pretty normal so we went to the gym for a quick workout. When I picked her up 45 minutes later, I took one look at her and knew that she was sick. Her face was pale, her eyes red rimmed and she just looked tired. I took her home, laid her on the couch, put a video in (a real treat for her) and made her some juicy fruit slices and a smoothie. Her temperature, for as long as she allowed me to take it, was at least 103.5 so I gave her some Motrin and we did resttime. The Motrin brought her temperature down enough to make it through the rest of the day until I got her in bed early. She was asleep by 4:15 and I hope she'll be recovered by tomorrow morning when she discovers that her sisters are here.

V.'s work plans have gotten turned upside down. Instead of him being home working until China, beginning sometime between June and September, he's been working in San Francisco this past week. Next week due to people's stupidity, V. is slated to work in LA on Monday, San Francisco on Tuesday, Saudi Arabia Wednesday - the following Monday, and then San Francisco again until the following Friday when he finally gets home that evening. That weekend is the girls' 18th birthday and the following weekend is my birthday. Tomorrow morning I'm going to take advantage of all this joyful distraction for I. and disappear for 2 hours to take care of some errands and just sneak away by myself for a little while before having to be the only parent again even though it's just for a short time.

This is all small potatoes compared to watching the parents of a 17 year old daughter who was killed last week conduct themselves in a rational, calm manner. I don't know how they're coping so admirably but I'm glad they are. I know my reaction would be much different, primarily consistently of sobbing and hitting inanimate objects but that's just me. Even though I may need a break from I. right now, I cannot fathom a day in the future when she is no longer there. It's truly my greatest fear as a mother of an only child.

Enough depressing stuff for so late in the evening, I'm going to wind down and head to bed.

Good Beginning and Mom Guilt

I. didn't fall asleep for 2 hours last night thanks to poopies moving down the intestional tract. I mean, who could fall asleep when you can feel the train moving down the track? It still frustrated me though because I knew today would be a tough day because she would be tired and I certainly didn't need a tougher day than the ones I've been dealing with.

This morning, I woke up to V.'s alarm at 2:30am, him getting up at 3:30 and then the garage door opening and closing around 4ish. Finally, I was able to fall back asleep to be woken up at 7am when the dog in the condo up the hill from us was unceremoniously dumped out on the patio and began registering its complaint. I didn't hear I. calling so I fell back asleep until 8am. Wow! Better yet, even when I nervously bounded out of bed, all was quiet in her room. Then I heard her whispering in her bed which is how she plays when she hasn't been awake for awhile. Hmmm...

So I sneaked downstairs for a quiet cup of coffee all by myself. I haven't had that privilege since the day after Christmas and it was SO nice. Here's the only thing - when I got I. up finally at 8:30 (woohoo, half an hour all to myself!), she said her stomach was hurting and then proceeded to eat basically nothing for breakfast. This may be normal for other kids but I. eats a lot of breakfast, and lunch and dinner for that matter. Now I'm wondering if she has a bug of some sort. And if she does, she's going to be pretty volatile as the day wears but I need to keep my cool especially if she isn't feeling well. There is nothing like losing your patience one day only to find out the next day that they acted that way because they were coming down with something. That scenario, at least for me, is the ultimate in mom guilt and I'm determined today not to set myself up for mom guilt tomorrow. Today's going to be a fingers crossed, tap dancing around meltdown triggers kind of day; I just feel it in my bones. The day's success will most likely not be measured by what got done or how much fun we had but by the simple fact that I. and I will both be alive and loving each other by the end of the day. Some days, that's the best you can hope for.

It's Been Awhile

Yes, I haven't posted for awhile, my bad. Partly because V. has been home and actually awake for the early half of the nights so we've been catching up on TIVO'd shows and some movies we've been saving. Partly because I.'s behavior has been so challenging that I'm left exhausted, defeated, and frustrated by the end of the day and I just do not feel like communicating. I'm so tired of attempting to adequately communicate (and many times failing) throughout the day to I. that I have no desire to do so after she goes to bed.

Just as her behavior worsened when V. initially left, it's worsened since he's been back. I guess it's just an adjustment period but it's certainly a painful one for me. Most days, I. is defiant whenever I ask her to do anything and when I push it, she throws a tantrum. I may have patience for one or two instances but after that, I really get tired of it. I need a break and even though I have a 2 day break coming up at the end of this month, with the daily barrage, I don't know if I'm going to make it til then. I mean, I'll make it but I don't know how pretty it's gonna be.

Although V. is home, this week he was gone and he'll be gone for the next 2 weeks though home for the weekends. This looks like how it's going to be until he leaves full time for China. So much for good quality family time...in this economy, I guess we're just thankful to have a paycheck.

I got an email from Mark's mom telling me that she believes that I knew Mark better than anyone including herself and she would be grateful if I would be willing to get together with her and give her some insight into who he really was. My first thought was how honored I was, followed closely by a sadness that his mother realizes that due to family dysfunctional, she may not have known her son. I do want to get together with her, I think Mark would want that, I just want to figure out what I want to say and how to say it. Do I show her the real side of Mark through some of his letters or just through my memories? That's really my only question.