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.

I know I know Like I Should Post

I should Post. Really I should Because this past week has been a lifetime of insanity. And so? I don't post.

First, last weekend (sept 11-13) was a joyful celebration with the Captain in Charleston of what? MY BIRTHDAY. once we FINALLY got there (delayed flights, weather, evil airlines and a DRIVE from Atlanta to charleston, go ahead google that one) well, it was great. I received my FIRST BLUE BOX. Blue box? why yes, Tiffanys. And the best thing? It wasn't some stupid beautiful bauble. It was an adorable meaningful bauble that captured something we do for each other everyday, every text, every email and that? Made it a THOUGHTFUL bauble. From Tiffanys. So I wear it every day. (OK it says "XOXO" on a heart locket bracelet figure it out)

AND I got to tour my daughter's future university. Because? College of Charleston is her first choice. Statistically she will get in. And so although she visited it with her dad, I wanted to see it for my self. And fell in love I did. Yes. So now I can see Daughter there. I briefly looked at real estate and thought about moving there myself. What a wonderful weekend.

Then Tuesday. Soccer. Indoor. a slow motion tragedy. Let's just say that I am wearing a brace, not walking well, sidelined for 6 weeks and hoping for no surgery.

Wednesday my birthday. a day of doctors and MRIs and not feeling very good. Kids making me breakfast in bed (I love them!) and dinner in bed (I hate my knee!) and lots of phone calls

Thursday I get sick from visiting the doctors offices. Thursday night i get a fever. and a cold and hate this birthday week.

Friday I wait for the kids to get home. I turn down offers of dancing (as if) and bands and all the things grown up Next Door Girl wants to do as wait for the kids to get home.;

So I should post. really I should. But my life? is boring. and sad.

Next week!

Be Careful before you Jump

I saw this headline on my blackberry before arriving at work - all I could see was the headline and the first few lines of the story. And I was really angry:

Obama Brainwashes Vulnerable Children's Minds: Ann Woolner

It's a report about Obama's visit to an Atlanta school. Whatever he was going to say to those kids he's the President. Who wouldn't cheer?

When I got to work, I quickly clicked the link for the whole story. The first few paragraphs had me drafting a nasty response in my head. Boy was this "woman" going to get a piece of my mind.

Then I kept reading.


I'm not sure I like her style or the way she began. But it got my attention! And, ultimately, my applause.

See for yourself!

Why Yes I AM walking funny !!

Thanks for noticing, my gait is a little off today. And yes you might think I'm waddling. And NO I am NOT pregnant.

So why the silly stride? Yesterday my bruddy [that's brother + buddy = bruddy....] Flash and I did THIS!

Yeah that's right, we ran the Va Beach 1/2 marathon together! Now some of you may know that I have indeed run a marathon (my photos)...the Marine Corps Marathon (my story)... nearly 3 years ago. 3 years? That's a long time when you are..ahem..over 40.

My bruddy has been facing some 40+ health challenges - you know, weight, blood pressure, getting old and I-still-want-to-eat-like-I'm-17 crap. So about a year ago he started "running." As in, around the block. Because that? Was all he could do.

Fast forward about 9 months and he says, "I'm running the Va Beach 1/2 marathon."

Me: "WTF?"

Him: "YEP Running it."

So we start talking about training. And of course being the A.D.D. master and a busy man, he gets side tracked. And he starts all, "I can't run it. I won't be ready. Blah blah blah." So I say, "No really, all you have to do is X and Y and Z and you are so there. You have come so far. JUST DO IT."

And he says, "Want to run with me?" and in a moment of insanity or - nay - in complete clarity - I say, "SURE!" I go online, fork over the WHOPPING registration fee (damned those bands better be worth it! And I want a cool t-shirt, not another ugly one like my other races!) and do it.

About 4 weeks ago, Bruddy hurts his back. Badly. And stops running. For 3 weeks.

About 4 weeks ago, I break or severly injure my Big Toe and...keep running b/c I am an idiot.

So I show up to Va Beach, not really having trained well. I expect him to tell me his back hurts and he can't run. Instead? He says, "Well I ran 6 miles the other day. So let's do this thing."

And I'm thinking, "6 miles? You ran only 6? And you're going to Run 13.1? Well....ok" But I don't say anything. Because this is his dream. And if he thinks he can do it? I'll drag his butt over that finish line.

So Saturday we get up early and go to the race expo and pick up our numbers and shirts. And we buy the place out of t-shirts that are funny. Like this one for me:

Yes, indeed, it also says "Does this shirt make my butt look FAST" on the backside of the tshirt. How funny is that??

he bought a number of shirts like "This seemed like a good idea 3 months ago" and "The older I get the faster I was."

We spend the day drinking Gatorade and water - and we shared a beer (or two) at one of the beach concerts. Hey we had to carb up!

5a.m. came early. We got up, bageled and bananed ourselves, drank some cytomax running crap and off we went. Names on shirts for cheering crowd purposes. Psyched to the max. I played him my psyched tape on the way over: "Feels like Today" by Rascall Flatts, "How Bad do you want it" by Tim McGraw, "Make a Man out of You" from Mulan and "ready to run" by Dixie Chicks (from the Runaway Bride Movie). He laughed and got psyched.

We took off strong - averaged under 10 minutes the first 6 miles. But he knows 8 miles is his personal wall because of some health issues. So at 6 we walked a couple "poles" and had some sports beans and salted/sugared/carbed up. And ran some more. We walked/ran for a while. Then the cramps started for him. We stopped and stretched. And rubbed. And ran some more. I told stories and laughed with him.

We hit the bridge after mile 11 and sang from the christmas movie, "Put one foot in front of the other...ba-da-ba-da-bump...and soon you'll be walkin cross the floo--oo--ooor! Put one foot in front of the other... ba-da-ba-da-bump ,...and soon you'll be walkin out the door!"' Everyone laughed.

Mile 12 was hard. Really hard. I got worried. He didn't look so good. He had cramps you could see in his thigh and his calves. I asked him, "You ok?" and he said, "Yep let's do it." And still we went on.

At Mile 13 I was crazed. We had our names on our shirts and people were shouting, "Go Greg Go Mellie Go Greg Go Mellie." IT was crazy!! We were still jogging! He grabbed my hand and we crossed that finish line hand in hand, wooting and so psyched. The announcer lady saw us coming and said, "Here come Greg and Mellie!!" WOOT!

And so today? My legs are a bit tight. My calves are sore and I'm limping a bit. But my Brother? He ran 13.1 miles yesterday. This from a man who couldn't run 1/2 mile just a year ago.

Yes, PICTURES from his Wife when she gets a chance to email them!

Brother, I am proud of you! Really proud! Love YOU!!

Still Blindsided even 2 years later (or 13 depends on how you count it)

The other day I was sitting out front in the grass, under the gorgeous September Sunshine, enjoying my wireless connection and doing research for a brief. Lovely all around - I could hear lawn mowers from a neighbor's yard, Stinky Butt was busy chasing bugs around, Queen Bee lounging in the shade of the japanese maple, crickets chirping and birds singing - a picture perfect day.

I laid back on the blanket for a moment and was struck with the most bizarre thought - what if Ex walked over with two glasses of champagne and offered one, with a soft kiss?

Now this is bizarre for lots of reasons:

1. Ex has no clue how much I love champagne as I discovered it "after";
2. Ex is at work;
3. I lost any desire to Kiss Ex years ago;
4. I am generally and almost totally glad to be rid of Ex;
5. Contrary to someone-close-to-me's thoughts, I stopped loving Ex ages ago.

So where does this come from? And how does it manage to bring tears to my eyes in 3.2 seconds?

And I don't know that answer. Perhaps because I still hate being divorced - not that I want to be married to Ex (or to anyone in particular) but I am still saddened that my marriage ended in divorce. That's not how I was raised, that's not how I dreamed things would go, that's not how things are in my neighborhood or among most of my friends. And so as I sit in my neighborhood among the beautiful homes and acres of yards and flowers and families, I feel the failure. And I think how lovely it would be not to be divorced.

I hate filling out forms that ask marital status and hate checking off the box "Divorced."

I hate looking for colleges as a single parent.

I hate having a great reference for a divorce attorney based on personal experience.

I hate when people ask how come I don't wear a ring.

I hate referring to my kids' father as "my kids' father."

I hate saying, "My former in-laws."

All this despite the fact that he asked me for a divorce 13 years ago. Despite the fact that I am managing life, finances, fun all by myself. Despite the fact that he made me miserable and we made the kids miserable and I made him miserable. Despite the fact that at least once a month something happens which screams, "VINDICATED."

I wish it had worked out so that we could have liked each other.

Wireless Isn't Always a Good Thing

Sometimes I'm slow on the uptake. Really. Like having wireless in my house when Verizon brought the new FIos router. Except it took 16 months and a visit from my engineer/nephew to tell me, "Hey Aunt Mellie, you know you have wireless right? You don't need to plug in your laptop. The code's right here on the side of this box."

After swallowing my shame and embarrassment, I embraced the wireless. Imagine, working at the kitchen table! Working in the basement! Working in my bed!

Huh? Did I just say working in my bed? Yeah. I did. Because I don't have enough billable hours in my life so now I work everywhere.

Except it's not all as sinister as it sounds. Take today for example. It's mid-morning. I am "working" from home. In My Bed. In my pink Wal-mart Eeyore faded pj's, with Stinky Butt curled up next to me, Queen Bee snoring at my feet, and Son moaning from his room every 45 minutes or so about his stomach ache.

Oh did I say I was working? Perhaps I'm blogging.

Back to work now. Really.