that's when i knew it was time to go home

Standing in the elevator at work, which requires a security badge in order to make it function, I swipe my badge, push the button, but my floor refuses to light up. I go through this exercise two more times, starting to curse at the "broken" elevator. And that's when I realized I was already on the 6th floor and I needed to go to 8. I forgot where I was and where I was going. Apparently I am no longer able to bill 30 hours by Tuesday and still function as a human being....

So I went home. And couldn't sleep. it figures.

ALMOST the biggest most embarrasing Faux Pas!

I signed on to be a mentor to a first year law student at my law school. Because, yeah, I'm not already working more than full time (and being paid part time) and I have time for this!

Well hopefully I will have time, just not this week.

But anyway, I signed up and my Mentee immediately emailed me, so I agreed to meet before 3 weeks passed.

My mentee's name? Abteen. I got a resume. Looked at it. (impressive). Looking forward to meeting this nice, young lady and hopefully find some way to help/encourage her.

I was running late (woot there is a surprise). We had exchanged cell phone numbers so I called her.

And a man answered. Huh?

Yep, Abteen is a boy. Oops. Glad I called so that my shock and awe was over the phone and not written all over my face. Not that I can't be a mentor for a boy. I just assumed it was a girl. I don't know why. Oops again.

Skinny and Bitchy or Fat and Happy?

It seems that is my choice lately - skinny and bitchy or fat and happy.

Warning Warning this post may be TMI for you! Don't say I didn't warn you - although I doubt I can come up with great code-rhymes like BlogthisMom

About a year ago I started having an internal thermometer meltdown issue. You know, one minute you're cold (used to be me, all the time) the next minute you're sweating bullets. Hmmm. I'm in my early 40's. Really, at my age? I asked my sisters who said, "REALLY."

Damned.

So on my visit to my Girly Doctor, I mentioned this, along with my bitchiness (not all of it can be blamed on the Ex). And my teariness. (ditto). So she said, "Try the Pill." Huh? At my age? Dangers? etc etc? We discussed it and she said, "Try it." So I did.

And? Internal Thermometer FIXED! Temperament BETTER! Tears WHEN APPROPRIATE! Woot!

Fast forward 6 months. Inexplicable weight gain? 10 pounds.

Fast forward 9 months. Inexplicable weight gain? 15 pounds.

Remember, I was running (up til the Knee Thing) about 20 - 30 miles a week. Hmmm.

So, a month ago, I tossed the pills.

Weight loss? (without running b/c of Knee thing) 9 pounds and counting.

Internal Thermometer? Totally broken. Tears? Daily. Bitchiness? Oh you don't want to know, but I pretty much had to put a "Beware of Rabid dog" warning sign on my office door.....

I know I know, I should go back to the Dr, get a second opinion, consult a specialist. really? When. I am bad. about. doctors. I hate them. I don't have time.

So which would you choose? fat and happy or skinny and bitchy? [keep in mind my 25 year high school reunion is in 1 month!!] And no you can't choose "Go to a dr." Which I might. No I won't. Yes I will. Ok maybe.

"Corazon, Mi Corazon!" Coming From the Next Room

I'm working from home today, kids are home on a senior day off while the other underclassmen take PSAT's. Daughter is supposed to be writing her college application "personal statement" essay that is due TOMORROW. (Yes a bit early I know)

I'm listening to her sing and dance around her room. When suddenly it dawns on me - SHE'S SINGING IN SPANISH. Now this shouldn't surprise me. She's going to major in Spanish.

But as I sit here and listen to her singing - rapidly - in Spanish with a gorgeous spanish accent, it dawns on me deep down - my child is Fluent in Spanish. And this thrills me.

I have always wanted to be fluent in Spanish or any foreign language. We lived in Spain for 2 years and although I can "Communicate" I would not call me fluent. I don't really think in Spanish.

But my Daughter? Clearly does. She was amazing when we went so Spain this summer. But somehow the singing (effortlessly) and dancing around her room, trying to get in the right frame of mind to convince her dream school that she is worthy (and YES she is worthy! Just ask her Mom!), well, it seems like a lifetime of hoping and planning and disciplining and learning and playing and growing and experiencing - they are truly all coming together. And that makes everything so right, so worth all the effort, the pain, the struggles.

Everything.

Heard Around the House

ME: [in my bedroom Screaming] Sh*! Damn and hell that HURT!!!!

SON: MOM ARE YOU OK???

ME: Yes Damn and Shi# and Frick OUCH OUCH OUCH

[exit Stinky Butt scurrying under the bed to escape the screaming Grammy]

SON: [yelling through my bedroom door] What did you DO?

ME: Smacked my foot into the doorway and twisted my knee - MY HURT KNEE frick frick frick!!

SON: Whaaat? How did you do that?

ME: I WALK INTO THINGS - WHERE DO YOU THINK DAUGHTER GETS IT FROM?!

SON: Oh, yeah. Right.

------- ----------------------------------------------------

[SCENE: morning before school starts - Daughter having been ready 20 minutes as usual, waiting for Son to show up from Next Door to leave for school in my car]

DAUGHTER: Grrrr we are so late YOU are Driving - I am NOT getting the speeding ticket

SON: [dragging feet and generally going as hit snail pace] NO I don't want to drive I'm tired. Plus you weren't really ready, mom just handed you a check for tonight's flute lesson. So I was ready first.

DAUGHTER: NO we were killing time waiting for you - YOU ARE DRIVING.

SON: Oh I forgot a jacket...[snail snail snail up the stairs]

DAUGHTER: [in the driver's seat fuming after backing the car out of garage to attempt to hurry him up]

SON: What are you doing? I'm driving!

DAUGHTER: NO you are late, I'm driving get in.

MOM: [WT*?] Buh-bye kiddies - always nice to see you [waving as they back out of the driveway]
-----------------------------------------------------

MOM: Have you studied for the SAT test yet? {you know the one you asked to retake b/c you didn't study the first time and you know you could do a lot better and really want to go to Dartmouth?!}

SON: I have off school two days next week - I'll study then.

MOM: Those days off are AFTER the test - your test is this Saturday.

SON: Oh yeah right. No I guess not....

REBUILDING

It's been 2 years since he moved out.

It's been 13 years since he said, "I don't love you. I don't think I ever did."

It's been 23 years since it hasn't been about Him.

And now, finally, it's going to be about Me. At least, that's what one of the leaders told me.

I have decided to join a group at church called "Rebuilding." It's about getting over the divorce and rebuilding my life.

Some of you may find this strange - after all, I have a lovely life, great kids, supportive family, and a fabulous boyfriend.

What you don't know is that I am the Great Pretender. Truly. And all is not well in Casa de Next Door. In fact, some days all is down-right not-right.

And I've decided that these feelings are silly - the feelings of failure, of anger, of sadness, of a lost life. My family tells me so. My friends tell me so. My bloggy friends often tell me so.

So now I will take a journey for me - to explore my feelings, to explore the past, to refocus my goals and to let go of the Ex. [Hmmm I sense a New Blog Title...] Let go of past dreams. Let go of anger. So much anger. Lots of anger. Just let it go. And rebuild Me.

I'm nervous - I like pretending that it's all ok. I like floating along one day after the other seeming to have direction. I like my witty, sarcastic self. I'm a bit afraid to dig deep into this Divorced Girl-Next-Door because, well, I'm thinking it's pretty shallow in here. And I have some filling in to do.

I'm thankful for the Group, for the friends I've already made in just 2 weeks. I'm thankful for the support of the Group and the Family. I'm thankful for the Captain who is not afraid of what I might find on the other side of Rebuilding.

And his lack of fear? Makes me more fearful. Of course that doesn't make sense. Unless you're me.

Define Valium: Mother of Teenage Boy

Lately there have been lots of struggles around here - aside from the usual work, anger, exhaustion, jealousy that come from being a single parent living next door to your ex.



Lately, the Son has developed ATTITUDE and a sense of injustice.



First, for new or lost readers, know that overall, I have amazing kids. My nearly 17 YO twins are near perfect. They have very good grades, are college bound, help out in Sunday School, play sports, play musical instruments, love their grandparents. And Talk to their mother.



BUT yeah the big BUTT as teenagers are wont to do, they think they know better than I do about what is Fair and Just for them.



So Son calls Friday night to inform me he's hanging with Best Friend (fine) going downtown (fine) and coming back home at 2am (NOT FINE NOT NOT NOT NOT ). When I freak out about His assumption that he gets to go into the city until 2am, he hits me with"But I'm a good kid. I don't do bad things. Let me stay."

I hit him back with "I know you're a good kid and one of the reasons you're a good kid is b/c we try to minimize situations where you could make poor choices." And he laughs out loud. Ok I know there are many times he could make poor choices every day and he chooses not to do so. But this? Pushing the envelope.

DC until 2 a.m. with college kids? at 16? NO NO NO NO NO.

He knows I am downtown with his Sister at the Army Running expo. He knows I'm not in a position to yank his butt home. But he underestimates my ability to lay down the law by phone. [He and Friend learned that putting the best friend on the phone to advocate will not stop the steady stream of butt-chewing spewing forth from my mouth.] He underestimates the passion of my convictions (Really Son, Really? After all these years?). So .... I.....

yes I did...

I called the Ex to get his opinion. Because I thought nothing would break through the "injustice of it all" barrier for Son like a united front from warring Parents-who-are-exes.

How did I know Ex would agree with me? I wasn't certain but I was pretty sure. Despite the Divorce, I actually know Ex and his position on many things pretty well. Sure enough, Ex said, "No way no way no way. Get his butt home NOW."

I called Son back and gave him the whole united front attack. Apparently I underestimated my Son's determination.

Ultimately, I had to play the "I'm the parent and I said so" card. I hate playing that card. Although I realized - and told Son - "the reason I have to play this card is because I am the parent and you don't always know what's good for you. That's why I'm here and I'm in charge - to help you make the good decisions. If I didn't need to play this card we wouldn't even be having this argument because you would have made the right choice for yourself [being home at a reasonable hour] before ever calling me."

Ouch.

We all had to get up at 630 a.m to go to daughter's soccer game. Well, Son didn't HAVE to go but he wanted to go. (watch a bunch of attractive, smart 16-17 YO girls run around in shorts? Hells Yeah). Much to my amazement, Son continued to explain why he should have been allowed to go last night. Including the fact that although he would have had access to a 21 YO wrist band and all-you-can-drink bar drinks for $5, he would not have taken advantage of this. In his twisted mind, this makes it ok for him to go.

And that? Is why I need Valium. And why my doctor wouldn't dream of giving me even 1 tiny pill....

Now I've Had The Time Of My Life

Tonight Son found a rerun of Dirty Dancin' on Cable. He confessed he had never seen it. I confess I reduced myself quickly to the status of "blubbering idiot" as soon as I started watching.

It's not just that Patrick Swayze is dead. Yea, that will make me cry. After all, I grew up on P.S. movies - and drooled over all of them. Ok ok I admit my sisters and I watched the ending of Dirty Dancin' 26 times one night. Yes I typed that right 26. So what? We would have easily hit 100 if the men had not insisted we were burning the tape....

And Roadhouse. and the Outsiders. and Ghost.

see Dirty Dancin came out around 1987. When I was in love. right before I got married. In fact, we toyed with having "She's like the Wind" as our First Dance. And so despite everything -my Rebuilding classes, my Boyfriend, my growth - it doesn't matter. I see patrick Swayze, I hear the music, and I am instantly back in 1987 when I was loved. When the future was wide open.

Back in 1987 I was going to be married to a Prince. I was going to have beautiful babies and train them up in the way that they should go. (Yes that's Ephesians). I was going to dance at their weddings with their Father and sit on a rocking chair on our front porch.

Then well, it all went to hell. And here I am 20+ years later. Patrick is dead. The Ex Is, well, the Ex.

And I? Watch Dirty dancin' and cry. incessently. For everything. For Patrick. For lost love. For people who can't dance. for Cancer. For a lost way of life. For well, I don't know. All Things Lost.