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Archive for April, 2008

American Idol was exciting last night. I’m not sure I liked the 2-song format, because it was hard to keep the first in mind. Which of course, the contestants took advantage of (or the remixer of the video tape took advantage of) and tried to put the songs in a smart order.

Jason Castro, though, was better on his first song. I thought he was pretty good. I still think he’s ridiculously adorable, and I really can’t put my finger on why. Perhaps he reminds me of someone? I like his cheekbones, and his smile, and his eyes. Oh yeah, right – and his singing.

David Cook just rocks, and should win. Which probably means he’s going home tonight.

I liked Brooke’s first song, and not as much her second.

I despise David Archuletta. I think he absolutely raped Sweet Caroline, and I think he’s ass for doing the America song – and butchering it. I really find myself wondering if Randy is on crack, every time he calls (that) David “da bomb” – yeah, the STINK bomb. I really dont’ like the kid. I hate the way he stands awkward and sheepish on the stage, as if he’s just looking for a concrete pillar to hide behind (in a creepy kinda way), and I hate his constant grin when speaking, and I hate his singing voice. I may have liked a couple of his songs early on (like Imagine), but I got sick of him pretty quick, and I really don’t like him.

Syesha – E & J’s fave – does nothing for me. I don’t think she’s all that great. Yeah, sure. She may go on and do Broadway. Whatever.

And most importantly ….

It seems like print media is accepting Paula Abdul’s explanation for why she totally let the cat out of the bag last night. “Oh, I just got confused … I meant David Cook’s song left me feeling empty – NOT Jason Castro’s Second Song! Oops!” By the way David, Paula loved that empty-feeling song! Great job!!

No, it was much more of a “you want me to read my notes live on the air for BOTH pre-recorded songs? Okay.” Then, “oops! You meant only ONE?”

Come on – there is no other explanation. Sure, the judges’ comments were given live, on the air. But I think it’s clear that Paula saw both of Jason’s songs before we did.

Live my ass.

Votes my ass.

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Moving

The girls are going through their things in pursuit of our goal: Two boxes packed per person per week. Beloved and I are trying to make this process as painless as possible (we move in July …. )

They ended up traveling to the apartment next door with their arms full of dolls. The neighbors have three little girls, the oldest currently in kindergarten, the youngest born …. uh, yesterday? (feels that way, although she’s standing up and laughing and otherwise very much at least 9 months old.)

I really don’t think their parents realize that we just dumped at least $1,000 into their kids’ laps.

I’m just glad that we are short a trunk full of clutter.

(J kept Molly. She likes her glasses.)

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I had a delicious time off.  It was absolutely rejuvinating, and a great time for the girls and I.  We had a lot of together time, including conversations, games of Monopoly, Frisbee sessions, walks, frappucinos, smoothies, races, long drives to Connecticut, a day in New York City, time with the grandparents and with the baby cousin, etc.

Now they’re singing, and it’s giving me a headache.  They’re bickering, and it’s like fingernails down the chalkboard.

Tomorrow, I head back to work ….

WOO HOO!!!!

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This is becoming a familiar feeling.

Where I avoid the news – paper, broadcast, internet – all damned day.  I do it purposefully.  If I accidentally click on my usual news sites, I quickly steer away.  If a blogger I enjoy dares speak of the AVOIDED, I again, click away.

Even when 70% of the stories ask if it was “soon enough” or whether the lead was anything more than negligible.  Even if they trash her for her negativity and her attempts at re-writing the rules:

I.

DO.

NOT.

WANT.

TO.

HEAR.

IT.

I don’t even know that I can put my finger on why.

Perhaps it’s because I can’t put my finger on WHY Hillary won’t just fucking crash & burn.  I don’t understand why people like her.  Why they vote for her despite her shittiness – the way she comports herself, the bullshit “misstatements” that she makes, her quasi-republicanism, her negativity, her miscategorizations.

Maybe I am just unhappy.  Unhappy to think that it’s true that a Black Man still can’t be president in this country. (And yes, I fully believe that a very large part of the results in Pennsylvania are due to racism.  The polls that I heard a week ago and two weeks ago were very racist, and very clear that the “rural” residents of the state would NOT vote for an African-American.)  And that a member of his own party will exploit this fact.  Will revel in it.

Maybe I am unhappy because once again, I am apparently worlds away from the vibe of this country.

I don’t want to let go of the hopefulness that something different could happen NOW.  In the wake of the crap that we’ve been handed over the past 8 years.  But not only does Hillary’s apparent semi-popularity dash my hopefulness — so does Obama’s lack of remarkability in the past weeks.  I am not sure I would go so far as to say he was unfaithful to the image I had at the start – the promise he offered and reinforced with his outstanding speech on race – but he’s stopped being remarkable.

I want remarkable.

I still see no sign that if he makes it to the white house, we will have more of the same.

You know,

Bush – Clinton – Bush – Clinton

BARF.

I know that the actual numbers make the pattern hugely unlikely.  But I wanted him to blaze through.  I wanted for us all to stand up and clap and shout as he made his way.  I didn’t want us to be clamouring for public perception and crossing our fingers that her bullying doesn’t work.

So I’m squirming.  But I’m squirming while I continue to donate, and while waiting for the discomfort to go away so I can start to hope again.

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Even though my past two posts were full of how great my kids are, we are of course, well rounded people.  With issues and up hill battles and what not.

Which is why I now have an appointment in place for E to visit with a therapist.

I mentioned that during Play Weekend I had my first ever negative parent-teacher conference regarding E.  It was a regularly scheduled (twice a year) conference, and I knew going in that she is not the perfect child.  I think as she gets older, and school becomes more independent and more social, these imperfections become more obvious to the teachers.  The structure is a little looser, but demands are higher.

I also went in feeling like a new kind of parent – one who doesn’t know everything about her kid’s life anymore.  She’s a little more close-to-the-vest now with her days, and her friends, and whatnot.  Oh, she definitely enjoys telling us what they’re doing in school and I get various stories, but I have caught wind that she’s had issues with her teachers that she doesn’t talk to me about.  I was taking consolation in the fact that if they were big issues, I would have heard from the teacher.

The conference was opened with, “We’ll start with the hard stuff.”  Then some blah blah about the transitions that kids go through in 6th grade, then “She makes me so angry that I feel like my head is going to explode right on top of my shoulders!!!”  [I have repeated this quote so many times to so many people, I feel like it should be my tag line for the year.]

Before I go on – let’s put this into perspective.  I had about 24 hours where I lacked perspective – between the conference and E’s report card showing up.  From what her teachers were saying (actually, it was one out of three), I was thinking I would have Cs and Ds delivered into my mailbox on Saturday.

Not so.  She had 4 A’s one B.  They also have “effort” and “behavior” grading – 1 – 4.  One is “excellent,” 2 is “good,” 3 is “inconsistent” and 4 is bad.  She had mostly 1’s, with 2’s from this particular teacher.  He told me she was on the verge of 3’s, but he didn’t give her 3’s, because he hadn’t sent home a progress report mid-marking period, which is supposed to alert us parents to improvements or deficiencies since the last report card.

Back to the conference.  She makes him mad because she won’t go outside to recess.  I could not understand.  If I tell E to go outside, she goes outside.  How can she just NOT go?  But my first question was “why?”  I asked, “do you know if she’s having difficulties with the other kids, that’s making recess difficult and making her want to avoid it?”  The teacher-who-hates-her looked at me as if I either a) had two heads or b) was the stupidest person on earth.  “That has nothing to do with it – she stays inside to work on projects.”  Teacher-who-loves-her said, “That has everything to do with it – that’s always what informs the kids’ decisions at recess.”  Teacher-who-hates-her took a minute to make his head stop spinning.  Huh?  Teacher-who-loves-her said, “she doesn’t have any problems – she’s getting along fine with everyone, she just wants to stay inside if her friends are inside.”

I was working very hard to not be railroaded at this conference (3 teachers: 1 parent), and so some pieces didn’t come together until later.

The complete recess picture:  Kids stay inside to do other things.  They are no longer required to go out.  As of next year, it’s not even called “recess” but rather a “free period” and they don’t even go out to the playground.  This year is a transition.  The 6th graders who do go outside don’t “play” anymore.  They wander around and talk.  They sit on benches and talk.  However, teacher-who-hates-her needs a break from E.  Because his head needs to re-group and not explode.  So E, and only E, has to go outside for recess.  Unless he tells her to stay inside, which is often.  Or unless the kid-driven activist group is having a meeting, which is once a week.  Or unless one of the teachers holds a review session during recess.  Which is often.  Or unless one of the teachers wants to discuss something with a kid about their grade or homework or a discussion in class – which is often.

Sound confusing?  The way we left the conference on the recess point was “I will tell E that she has to go outside for recess.  Please keep in touch with me about this.  There is no reason why if you say ‘E, go outside’ for her to just not listen.  If I tell E to go outside, she goes outside.  I need to know if this continues.”

On Monday, E comes home.  I ask, “what did you do at recess today?”  She says, “I stayed to talk to [teacher who wasn’t at the conference] and then I went outside.”  The next day “What did you do at recess?” [teacher-who-hates-her] made her stay inside to work on a “card.” (not a school assignment, but a project that a few kids were assigned to make a thank-you for someone who came to speak to the class.)  The next day was a meeting.  The next day she went outside.  The next day was a review session.

And he hasn’t called me.

The other issue:  E does this thing that he calls “spinning.”  He is not wrong.  I call it “getting stuck.”  E hits a wall in her own head, and she can’t explain to herself how to turn around and walk around it.  It’s been this way since she was 3.  The more I think about it over the past weeks, the more I think it’s a self-soothing skill that she’s lacking.  So I suppose it traces back to me as her mother in her days of infancy.  I held her too much.  I shouldn’t have co-slept.  I should have taught her to calm her own self down.  I’ve been trying to do so – I’ve spoken with her since she was 1 about ‘taking deep breaths’ and ‘finding solutions’ rather than freaking out and getting hysterical when something is thrown in her path – but it hasn’t worked.  (Clearly.)

This is how it looks to her teacher:  He hands out a homework sheet during the morning.  Explains it 1/2 way, has to stop because it’s time to go to Gym.  Tells them to put it in their desk.  At the end of the day, with about 20 minutes left to class, he returns to the sheet, tells them to take it out.  They go into their desks and get the sheet.  But E goes into her desk, moves some papers around, and frantically raises her hand.  He asks her what’s wrong.  “I can’t find mine!  It’s gone!  I think I left it on my desk and it got thrown away!”  He says “E, I’m in the middle of explaining this to the class right now, I’ll have to go and make you another copy after class lets out.”  She freaks out further “I can’t! I have to go somewhere right after school and I’m in a carpool and we’ll be late if I stay after class!” (true.)  She is not calm as she’s explaining this, she’s sort of frantic.  He’s pissed off.  His head is starting to crack around the edges.

This was a story that he told during the FALL conference.  So come spring, when the behavior is still presenting itself, he’s PISSED OFF.  (And she knows it – he’s yelled at her for it, and singled her out during end-of-the-day-whole-class-lectures enough that she’s well aware of his opinion of her, and it has driven her to tears in class, which has resulted in him yelling at her more and sending her out of the classroom.)  I spoke to E about this after the fall conference.  I talked to her about what she could have done different.  We talked about noticing the internal signs that she’s starting to get worked up, and early on, choosing instead to push the pause button.  To breathe deeply, and realize that there is always a solution.  I told her that we live right near the school.  I told her that taking 2 minutes after class to tell her teacher that she had to go, and could he please put the copy on her desk, and she will pick it up later – would not have made her late.  We talked about how if you can stop and think, there is always a way to work things out – that we always DO work things out.  She said okay. I followed up with this conversation later – this was not a one time conversation.

Yet we were back to the same theme in the spring conference …

Hater-teacher then segued into the fact that she is not doing well in math.  That she’s “lacking confidence” and “not using her resources” and “not trying hard enough.”  The behavior he explains is very similar to what her 4th grade teacher identified, and things taht we have been attempted to talk her through at home.

Guess what it is?  She hits a wall, and doesn’t know how to move around it without having her hand held.  “I need help!”  “I can’t do this!”  “It’s too hard!”

I pointed that out to him, and again he looked at me like I either a) had two heads, or (this time) b) was an absolute genius.  “Wow.  I never that about that.  You’re right.”  Then he says,  “Well, then.  I’ll have a conversation with her.”  Really?  A conversation?  I never fucking thought of that!  Maybe I’ll go home now, and have a little chat, and then … waa la!  All fixed!  I told him, “Mr. Hater, we’ve been having conversations with E since she was 3.  A ‘conversation’ is not going to fix this.  She is not moving forward like she should be, and so we will have to look at other solutions.”

So I said, “so perhaps this is not only about YOUR irritation with E, but rather something that she needs to work out and deal with — what we’re all doing isn’t working. ”  (Wha?  Huh?  Belittling and driving a child to tears isn’t helping her to work out some behavioral/psychological issues?  why not?)  “Perhaps we need to look at additional resources.”

“No.  E is a great kid.  these are small areas.  She is an A student.  She’s remarkable in English, Social Studies and Science – she’s the lead in the play – she has a lot of friends – she’s a good student.  She doesn’t need additional resources.”

Teacher-Who-Loves-Her went on to say that he totally “gets” her – she’s a social person who does fantastic in those subjects that lend to social exploration of issues.  She’s an excellent thinker and conversationalist, and she keeps all of her classes moving with her lack of fear of taking a minority viewpoint.  The problem is that MATH is not a social subject.  Kids don’t sitting around talking about the fascination of sums and negative numbers.  You can’t bounce mathematical ideas off your classmates.

I appreciate the support, nice-teacher-man, and I appreciate your constant counterpoints to the Hater.

However, the math issue is a small offshoot of the bigger problem (emotional issues – lack of self control/self soothing, self whatever).  And even if it were its OWN problem, a kid can’t kiss math goodbye in 6th grade.  The child needs to conquer this emotional barrier to an intellectual area that she is 1000% capable of doing well in.

Seriously – she had homework a couple weeks ago on the first day of their unit on negative numbers.  She called me at work to say “I can’t do my math.”  This happens at least 2 or 3 times a week.  Almost every time, I say “Alright, E, save it for last, and we’ll look at it when I get home.”  9 times out of those 10, she pulls it out when  I’m home, re-reads the instructions and says, “oh, nevermind, I get it now.  I read the instructions wrong.”

This time, though, it was hard.  I looked at the sheet and thought “crap.  I don’t remember negative numbers.”  But I sat down with her anyway, and we went through it.

I didn’t need to remember negative numbers.  She understood it perfectly.  If I could break down the steps for her, she could sail through them.  She had a full understanding of the number line, and how to move up and down it with adding and subtracting of negatives and positives.  She just needed to see it as a series of ledges, rather than the face of a mountain.

I used to think that her trouble with math was that it doesn’t come as automatically to her as the language arts/social studies area does.  She can’t just dive into the middle and shoot from the hip like she can with literature, writing, history.  She has to actually STOP and THINK, and to her, that feels “wrong” when everything else comes so easy.  But I think I misread it – I think it is more the same exact issue as I described above – an emotional hurdle that she has, and that she needs to master.

I am not happy that her teacher doesn’t like her.  I don’t like that he’s more consumed with his irritation than he is with solutions.  I don’t like that out of the three things he raised as problems, he did not ONE TIME look for reasons, explanations, or underlying problems.  That he was shocked when these connections were pointed out to him.  I think it was nice to have the counter-balance of the teacher-who-loves-her, but the more I thought about it later, the more I felt that the Hater was out of line.

But the reality is, we would be better off if this happened in the younger years, and it is more than likely going to continue to happen (she is not going to have the good fortune of loving all of her teachers from here on out, and they are not going to all love her).  If she wasn’t adored every year until now, perhaps I would have been forced to look outside the school to help E work out these other issues.

Her teachers this year have the entire grade on their radar.  The kids are in classes of 20, but they rotate amongst the teachers for the various subjects.  So while the Hater is her homeroom teacher, he also teaches the other two classes of 6th graders at various parts of the day.  He can’t know every aspect of 60 kids.  And perhaps he teaches 6th grade (as opposed to third, or kindergarten) because he doesn’t WANT to know every aspect of them.  And this is only going to continue.  Next year, the 7th grade teachers also teach 8th grade.  In high school …. well, I don’t need to go on.

And so, I am looking to provide E with the tools that she needs to continue to be that A student that she is more than capable of.  To even have the tools to deal with a personality conflict and not allow it to overcome her perception of school (so far hasn’t happened) and cause her to check out and become the C student her mother was.

I so don’t want her – with all of her abilities and talents – to become the C student that her mother was.

I don’t want her to spend 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th and 11th grades sneering at her teachers, like her mother did.  I want her to keep loving school.  Maybe even more than she does now.  I want her to look at intellectual pursuits as fun.  (Debate team, perhaps?)

I am not sure what the answer is.  I toyed with tutoring – with therapy – and wondered if there was something in between.  Is there a “behavioral training” or an “emotional coach”?  I want her to have coping skills.  Seems more concrete than “therapy.”  I mean, I’m sure therapy is great, and will help her in an overall manner.  Of course when i spoke to the intake coordinator, the second they hear that she lives with her mother and step-father, and her father and step-mother live out of state, they’re all over her – of COURSE she needs therapy!!!  And perhaps that’s true.

But I really want to be sure that she gets real hard and fast tools as well.  Something Beloved and I have tried so hard to give her, but nothing “sticks.”  We talk to her about ways to calm herself down – to take a moment to focus her mind.  She says okay, and we see her try for at least a week.  But then she stops, and when we remind her, she rolls her eyes at us.

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My Sweet Delinquents

A couple of weeks ago, the girls had some rare downtime.  They were using that time to “play Yahtzee.”  Qhotes because that is what I had assumed.  But when they got up to do the next thing, J announced, “[E]!  It comes out to 12.7 rolls.”  What the heck?  “Oh, that’s the average of how many rolls of the dice it takes to get a Yahtzee.”  E interjected, “yeah, but we were in a hurry, so our sample wasn’t ideal.  We’ll have to do it again when we have more time.”

Uhhhhh …. okay.  Whose kids are they?  Sure as hell not mine.

Today’s project?  Collecting pond water to examine under the microscope that E unearthed in her closet while looking for a baseball bat.

This was after they dragged me to the bookstore to pick up some ‘classics,’ as they’ve gotten bored of the pop culture reading choices.  Harry Potter be damned!  We’re onto Treasure Island and Journey to the Center of the Earth.

Ahh, vacation.

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This is the first year that the girls have been home during a school vacation week.  My higher income gave me a bit of a bargaining chip in the child support/visitation department.  He pays less, I get to play with the kids more.  We were going to go to D.C., but instead choose to syphon funds into the new apartment and furniture therefore.  I think it’s for the best, because the girls often complained about traveling for the vacations, preferring to STAY AT HOME.  D.C. is not home.  I think if we planned a week long trip, they would have been upset.  They also really needed the week of downtime, after the play last weekend having sucked all of their energy for the past 3 months.

This means it was also their first time seeing the Boston Marathon.  Beloved and I saw it in 2005, and had a great time wandering down Beacon Street, watching the “elite” runners, and even having one front runner woman collapse at our feet – seconds after we scrambled to move our sandwiches as she hovered above us looking peaked.

Today, I took the girls.

They were enthralled.

We had a great time.  We just wandered around our town, cheering the runners on, feeling first bewildered at the “elite” and their absolute lack of fat (and seemingly a lack of muscle – some of them looked like refugees!), then enjoying checking the “normal people” runners for those that we know.  I must also admit to a wee bit of mockery toward those who were still jogging/sweating/puffing 6 hours later.  Just a wee bit, because I know that would be me, if I were doing the marathon.  I mean, I could do a 1/2 marathon, and certainly a 1/4 … but not a 26 mile run.  But I also DID NOT do it.  I would rather put in the time and train and then run it in 3 or 4 hours than spend 6 or 7 hours miserably trying to keep up.  What a FULL DAY of huffing and puffing.  Ick!!!

It was a great day, though.  Beautiful weather, fun kids, relaxation.  I had one 25 minute phone call with work about some stuff that I have most knowledge about, but I don’t think it interfered too much with our day.  I knew it was probable that it would come up, because some big stuff is happening in my absence.  Considering everything – my interruption was tiny.

I just had to call it quits on a game of Yahtzee because the kids were going NUTS – so very hyper and looney.  I kicked them to the park, and am trying to take deep breaths in the quiet.

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On Day One of vacation, we found ourselves at a school playground in town – one replete with younger-kid play structures and a large toddler population.  An odd place to be, having these older children of mine.  The kids on the swings and the slides were so very short.  The kids wracked with sobs in their mother’s arms (they fell?  their friend wouldn’t share a shovel?  the sun got in their eyes?  they dropped their lollipop?) were a world away from my current experiences.

We three Older Women (ages 35, 11 and 9-for-two-more-weeks) sat on a bench with our ice cream cones, enjoying the sun and the relaxation.

A little posse of 5 year olds approached.  They gathered around E.  They seemed to be looking at her ice cream.

Did you get that ice cream at JP Licks? The brave one asks.

Yes, E replies, friendlier in tone than she normally is during these random exchanges.

I like JP Licks, do you? The girl pursues.

I like it a lot. E responds, still friendly and clearly willing to converse a bit more.

Once, I saw my teacher there.

Really?  Was that strange?

Yes.  I go to K.  This is my school.

Oh, I don’t go to this school.  I go to a different school.

IKNOWISAWYOUINTHEPLAYSEUSSICALANDYOUWEREHORTONANDILOVEDTHATPLAYANDYOUWERESOGREATANDILOVEDYOURSONGSWILL YOUSINGTHEMFORMEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE!!!!!!

It took a bit of coaxing, but eventually E complied, leaving J and I on the bench rolling our eyes and shaking our heads.

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I had a very hard time, back in March, getting the Ex to commit to summer dates. He kept saying his employment was up in the air, and what happened there would affect when his summer ended (he’s a professor). I may or may not have conveyed sympathy for his relative lack of stability, and told him that quite frankly, I did not care. I needed to enroll the girls for day camps during the weeks that they were with Beloved and I, and things fill up fast. I asked him several times about his latest-possible and earliest-possible dates – knowing that I could probably play with vacation time for myself and that Beloved could arrange his school work for the times that we were up in the air.

I harassed Ex so very much (not wanting to pay $500/week for camps that the girls wouldn’t attend), that he eventually said “okay, these dates will likely work no matter where I am living and teaching, go ahead and make the plans, and we’ll work around it.”

So I did.

Then, as we’re sitting in our seats at the girls’ play, waiting for the rest of the audience to file in, he turns to me and says, “By the way, remember that mythical cruise my mother’s been yammering about for the past 5 years? Well, she bought tickets, and they’re [the week the girls were due to first be home; the week that E was going to be attending a pretty cool and local nature day-camp for older kids, and the very beginning of the week that I was going to take vacation and Beloved and I were going to go on vacation with them.]”

I was really mad. I am mad that his mother would buy my daughters tickets without talking to me first. I have custody. He does not. He has visitation rights, but he’s not their primary parent, and she does NOT have the right to make plans for them without my consent – or at least consultation. Now that’s just my indignation at her presumptuousness, and I know that. There’s nothing HARMFUL about the girls going on a vacation with her and her family (it is a large family trip, with all of her kids and grandkids – including her daughter who is in Iraq right now). But because we made other plans, it causes a conflict. And that’s why I need to be spoken to first.

The Ex assured me it was HIS fault, not his mother’s, and convinced me not to send her a warning e-mail about the fact that if this EVER happens again, she will be met with a refusal of the girls’ time.

Although, I would never do that unless a true conflict existed. Because I pride myself in being a civil person, and a respectful person – not a spiteful or hateful person.

And the reality here is that I was about to, but did not yet, put down a deposit on the cool camp. We just received a notice for it last week, and I had that day been looking to see if it was full. And the other reality is that our move and our furniture and my desire for a car will all get in the way of a week at a cabin in Maine.

So yeah, they can go on the cruise.

God knows they won’t ever go on a cruise with me. Because I think of cruises as quite tacky, and quite the hellacious experience for someone with my tastes, desires and allergies to the sun.

But the other problem was that it is the week AFTER they’re due to come home.

Let’s all remember that they don’t even want to GO to his house. When J realized that this added a week onto her time away from home (making it 7 weeks, which is longer than it’s been in a long time – the last few summers have been 5 weeks long), she was miserable. Just miserable. Sobbing. Refusing to get on the plane.

I started to look at other options – could they go later? Uh, no. Beloved is leaving for school a couple days after the girls leave, and I can’t take that week off from work. Even day camp won’t cover things as much as I need them covered due to a trip planned. Also, the longer they stay, the more they ahve to put up with the moving process all day every day. Then I looked at them coming home for a little while in the MIDDLE of their time with him. But the increase in costs was pretty huge. Extra plane tickets, extra day camps (or a shift in vacation time that creates problems at the end of the summer).

Then J realized her baby cousins would be on the cruise with her, and she said “oh, well, then, that won’t be that bad.”

Honestly, I don’t think it will be that bad. They both agreed to the 6 week summer this year, and this added vacation week will not be an extra week of the same. It requires travel from the Ex’s state to his mother’s state, reunion with cousins and aunts and uncles, and a (hopefully) fun vacation.

Further cementing my decision not to make large changes in the plan is the fact that the Ex is still unsure of what’s happening with his job. If he changes jobs, he can’t go on the vacation, and the girls may not either. If that is what happens – he won’t agree to a 4 week summer, and we’ll be changing plans all back and forth 1,000,000 times.

This is my plan thus far: Keep their travel dates as planned. If they have a very hard time, Beloved and I will plan a long weekend to the Middle of the Country to visit them.

I resent the changes.

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Posting has been light, but with good reason.  The kids’ school play was this past weekend, wherein E was one of the leads, and J was an adorable little singer & dancer.  I, meanwhile, was on the “production team,” and ended up spending every spare moment – both at work and at home – dealing with various play-related issues.

Because of the play, and the importance of it to E, we had a few other things going on this weekend –The Ex was in town; my parents came for the day; and I, in my infinite wisdom, decided to schedule E’s parent-teacher conference for Friday, thinking that I would be at the school all day anyway.

But uh, Zuska?  Did you forget?  You have a job.  It’s sort of full time.

This whole thing worked to force my firm to live up to their oft-stated promises of being a place where work-life balance can be achieved.  I will find out tomorrow (maybe) if there is any fall out to my proclamation of unavailability.

The balancing of the two universes in my life gave me great stress.  It was very uncomfortable, and tense for me.  I did not have uncomfortable interactions (well, sort of one, but I think it was okay), but I had stress and guilt emanating from my very soul.  I am so glad it’s behind me.  (Although I still have a twinge of bad-feelings due to the fact that I am taking the week after next as a vacation week.)

Once that was all folded up into its work box, I was able to shift my stresses to the personal realm.

And how.

In order of events:

  1. I have my first ever negative parent-teacher conference about E;
  2. The ex shows up and drops a summer-related bomb on me during the intermission of the kids’ show – and would not let it go despite several repetitions of “i don’t want to talk about this right now.”
  3. My parents came for the day, bringing all their accouterments and noise;
  4. E woke up on the day of her second show with a scratchy voice, stuffy nose, and persistent cough;
  5. My parents and the Ex and his wife, and Beloved all had to wait in line for the play together for an HOUR, standing no more than 3 feet away from each other.  (That’s where the civility came in – thank you to all.)
  6. Beloved was assigned (by me) a play-related job that required us to partner in dealing with the actors and the cues and such – it didn’t work out so well, and we had the great pleasure of having an in-public argument.  I think people noticed.
  7. I was recognized publicly for my work on the play, with a spotlight on my face.  I hate being in front of a crowd.  Ptooey.
  8. My work at the play included being sure that people weren’t sneaking in to “save seats” and keeping the right people in the right places.  SEVERAL people now refer to me as “that bitch over there,” because unless someone was blind (there were two of them) or otherwise impaired, they were waiting in the fucking line with the rest of the universe (including my family and my children).

It is no small feat that my parents and the Ex managed to stay civil.  I was very worried.  Wanna know how worried?  Here is a funny story.

I told my mom on the phone about the Ex’s stunt re: the summer, while she was driving here from Connecticut.  She was lamenting the fact that she had to see him, and was promising me that she would not even acknowledge his existence.  Which I knew could be very awkward, since I knew they both wanted to be first in line (the line that other people felt too special to go into) so they could have good seats in a sold-out show to see their daughter/granddaughter.

While the parents were finishing their drive, I was e-mailing the ex about the fact that he dropped the fact that tickets to a cruise have been bought by his mother for a week that he does not have the kids, and for a week that Beloved and I planned on taking them to Maine for vacation.

Then the parents arrived.  Mom asked me for a book.  I gave her “The Memory Keeper’s Daughter,” which I must say I didn’t like so very much, and found quite UNremarkable, but thought she would like.  She doesn’t like my favorite books.  She finds them “too hard.”  So I’ve learned to give her books that I find to be a bit …. thin.  She read the back of the book outloud.  It’s about a doctor, who because of a blizzard ends up delivering his own children.  One is born a perfectly normal boy, the other a girl with Downs Syndrome (This is all on the back of the book, I’m giving nothing away)  He turns to his nurse (tiny little sole practitioner office, his nurse his only employee) and tells her to take the baby to a home.  His wife is unconscious.  The nurse instead keeps the baby and moves to another city to raise her.

A beat goes by.  Perhaps other topics discussed.  Then:

Mom:  I am mad at him already

Me:  Mom, please don’t talk about this right now (because I just know she’s talking about the Ex, despite the fact that J is curled up on the couch with her).

Mom:  What?  I’m entitled to my feelings.  Maybe I’ll change my mind, but right now, I’m mad.

Me:  MOM!  I am serious, I need you to not discuss this right now.

Mom:  [sticks her tongue out at me]

Me:  I am NOT kidding!  If you don’t stop right now, I am going to need to talk to you in the other room.

Mom:  You are being very unfair.  I’m not saying anything but my own feelings and I’m entitled to my feelings.

Me:  RIGHT now, you need to come with me in to the other room.

[she gets up with me and comes into my bedroom]

Me:  The girls do NOT need to know that anything is going on, I don’t want you to …..   [her perplexed expression causes my brain to click into gear.]  oh.  You were talking about the doctor, weren’t you?

Mom:  What ELSE would I be talking about?

Me:   I am sooooo sorry!  I thought you were talking about the Ex!!

Mom:  NO!!

Nice one, Zuska.

J later said that she knew we must have been talking about different things, because she knew I would never get so mad about her just talking about a BOOK.  At least she knows that about me.  And is not thinking that she has an irrational control-freak bitch of a mother.

Like I said to my mother – I guess we now know what’s at the forefront of MY mind.

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