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New marbles – and how Independence Day sucked

Warning: Strap yourself in for this one, or you will incur whiplash.  I’m shall be swerving from topic to topic and tangent to tangent.  Keep your hands and arms inside the post at all times.  Any appendages not safely and securely contained within the blog are in jeopardy.  You have been warned.  Now you can’t sue me.

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Ah the irony of my Soul Stretch post and the bundle of insane that I became yesterday.  I should have remembered to stretch.  ALWAYS stretch.

This morning a customer said to me “I don’t know how you do your job, I couldn’t do it.  And you’ve been SO sweet!”  Evidently she didn’t notice my eye twitching involuntarily nor was she aware of the length I go to in order to keep my ‘thought Tourette’s’ safely tucked into my mind and not allowing them to come out of my mouth.

I am good at my job.  I’ll give me that.

But DAMN it’s stressful some days.

I battle with underwriters, absurd lending guidelines, government rules all whilst fielding a daily barrage of panic from realtors, escrow officers and customers.

All with a smile.  All while breathing in through my nose, out through my mouth and staring like a Jedi at my ‘shut-up-Buddha’ willing him to transfer to me his serenity and ability to not speak.

I lost it a little earlier.  Just a smidge.  Okay – let’s be honest.  If someone had a straight jacket handy, probably they would have cut their eye from it, to me, to it and back to me – deciding whether or not it was possible to slip it on me safely.

I was googling funny pictures about stress.  Found this particular one and what bubbled up as an innocent fit of giggles, turned to eye watering, uncontrollable bursts of laughter.  The poor loan officer, only feet away from me must have wondered what the hell was going on – as I convulsed in my chair barely able to breathe.

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No, no … none of that actually happened.  Well, not to me.  Clearly it happened to someone or:

a) it wouldn’t be an ecard and

b) it wouldn’t be relatable to any recipients. 

Oh gawd, this DID happen to someone didn’t it??

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Let’s go back in time shall we … all the way back to last Wednesday.

This was my little Wednesday arm.

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I decided, since I am rolling in money – to spend a large chunk of it and some of my copious free time at the ER. (Ouch, sarcasm sometimes hurts when you type it)

I have a heart condition called ‘Inappropriate Sinus Tachycardia’.  And I swear, this is the last time I want to talk about or mention this.  Basically, my heart misfires electrically sometimes (okay, quite frequently) and get’s all confused and thinks I’ve just run a marathon when I am actually doing something really physically exhausting like sleeping, resting or sitting in an office chair.  That crazy mixed up heart of mine.  It’s silly ;).

What then ensues is me – getting to experience all the fun symptoms of a heart attack, without the heart attack part.  I do relaxation breathing – if I can walk steadily, I’ll find the nearest sink and run my hands under cool water (that seems to help sometimes) or, I’ll go sit with someone, usually my friend Betty if at work, and just listen to her talk about anything but how I’m feeling.  (Because if I focus on the fact that I’m not feeling well, it gets worse) And, eventually my spell passes.

Sometimes it doesn’t.

And I know my ‘normal’ now – and I’m used to it – so when something different starts to join the tachycardia party, I get scared.

Little arm day, was brought on by three really painful, sharp thuds in the center of my chest, after trying my breathing solutions and cool water trick.

And I’ve been experiencing rapid heart beat when I exert myself lately.  You know, like climbing the three steps to my porch or getting up too quickly. Serious exertion 😉

It’s a good thing I’m thin, because I can not exercise.  You will not see me jogging or doing jumping jacks … ever.

Stress also doesn’t help.

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Oooo!  First tangent.  Speaking of sex … So, I’m wearing a dress that my friend gave me, and shoes that she gave me.  I went into her office and said “Hey, if you’ve got a hair clip and a pair of underwear I can wear I’ll be head to toe Betty”  To which she replied, “Hair clip I could do … the underwear would end up around your ankles”  (She was referring to my thin frame) To which I responded “Ah … the good old days.”

It’s been a while since my underwear was anywhere but on me or in the laundry basket.  But … anyway.

Let’s now turn to yesterday – the day I lost my last marble.

Fourth of July.  My original plans included a man I adore, my son, BBQ at my parents and a four-day weekend.  Not bad eh?

What actually happened:  Argument with my son, spending the day alone crying like a basket case and not even having a hot dog.

To be fair – and I am fair … my part in this argument was that I was already stressed out – the man I adore has been unavoidably delayed, I’ve been worried, I had my little arm day, and I just had a shorter fuse than usual.

Instead of being the mature parent that I am, (that time the sarcasm hurt less … hmmm … clearly if you use it often it gets easier) I resorted to bringing up every single thing I was pissed off about instead of staying on current topics.  My words were pretty venomous and I was ashamed of that.  I did own my part in that – I did apologize later for being so ugly.  It was wrong.

I won’t go into detail about the argument – but suffice it to say, someone stormed out (and it wasn’t me) and the argument continued online.  What have we come to?  That we argue on IM?   Although, it’s nice to point out in black and white proof of a sentence when someone says “I never said that!”  HA!

One such sentence (that wasn’t denied) was “I’ll move out”.  Oh gawd.

I should have taken into consideration that without a vehicle, job or place to go – this was an empty threat – but my mood at that moment didn’t allow for logic.  I was mortally wounded by that notion.

He wanted his independence.

Independence??  He goes where he wants, when he wants – has no obligations around the house and the house to himself all day while I work?  It’s not as if he lives in North Korea?!

Anyway, none of this was funny yesterday at all.  Awful day.  He did come home.  We did talk.  And I gave him the biggest hug I could muster.

But after a good two weeks of stressing out – that was the last straw for me.  I lost my last marble.  Gone.  Poof!

I decided today to do the only sensible thing I could.

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I’m guarding these ones – and I will keep smiling – breathing and laughing. 

Pomp and indifference

“Are you scared?”

“No.”

“Are you excited?”

“Indifferent.”

“Well, maybe when you’re sitting there in your robe, and the music is playing – then it will hit you?”

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That was the conversation I had with my son this morning, as he relaxed on the couch before rehearsal. 

I gazed over at him –  I don’t think it’s completely sunk in for me either.  The magnitude of tonight. 

Indifferent.

I know that’s not how I’m feeling about it.  And I don’t think he will either when all is said and done. 

We had a little hiccup this morning.  I was sure he was to be at the event center at 7 am for rehearsal and then from there, over to his Senior Breakfast.  I woke him at 6 (relishing the fact that I got to do it one more time) and sent him out the door at 6:30 ish.

Somewhere between coffee and taking the night-time braid out of my hair, the phone rang.

“Are you sure it’s here?”

“Yeah – the event center.”

“No one else is here?  The parking lot is empty.”

“Hold on …”  I stepped over to the desk, to the index card I had scrawled the dates and times “Oh.” (nervous ‘we’ll laugh about this later giggle’) “It’s 8, not 7.”

“I got up early for this?  I’ll be right home.”

Oops.

Wanted to turn it around “Hey!  You’re an ‘adult’ now, remember your own times.”  Wanted to, but not enough to do it. 

If I can just be his bad time-keeper for a little while longer, I’ll take it. 

Checking accounts and cupcakes

Gawd.  One minute you’re waxing poetic about your child entering a new phase in their life, then you come home from work to him draped over his girlfriend on the couch.

Earlier, he stopped by my place of employment after school and we ended up going to the bank to open a checking account for him.  You KNOW I regretted not having my camera on me.  Another milestone for the scrapbook. Two major events … in one day.  How much more could a future-cat-lady mom handle?

On my way home I popped into the store for dog food and got him a ceremonial cupcake to  honor his big day.  🙂

(I figured I’d do the big cake thing on Tuesday, when he dons his cap and gown.)

He proceeded to find said cupcake.  “For me??”  I grinned, “Yes, for the last day of school.”  I was feeling all warm and fuzzy at the joy in his little eyes.

My heart swelled as he reached for a knife and cut it in half.  Awwwwwwww!

Then scurried off to share it with his lady.

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Pfffft.

It’s all happening so fast!!!   Checking accounts, girlfriends – not sharing cake with me!

So I’m alone with the dog –  and it’s Friday night …  Okay, if I’m being honest, the dog isn’t even that interested in hanging out with me.  Probably she knows I’m a future cat lady and is mulling that prospect over.

So anyway,  I’m getting yet another glimpse of my Life After Child.  Lac.  Very close to Lack.  Coincidence?  I think not.

I suddenly live with an adult who is out of school.

Holy cow.

And I’m posting stupid ecards on Facebook in between vacuuming and wondering whether or not to put my pajamas on yet.

I don’t know how ‘Amanda’ yet.

It occurs to me, this is going to be a transition for us both.  Me, learning how to pull myself from his gravity field, and him … learning I still want to be offered half a cupcake.

Unfriended – and a giant fish

For all my growth and new maturity (I say with a modicum of sarcasm) I thought I had let go of a certain resentment.  It became very apparent that I have not relieved myself of it – after a couple of small kicks to the teeth last night.

So I’m breaking one rule of confidentiality and I’m going to talk about someone.  Oh yeah, I’m gonna.  Gird your loins.

I’m even putting a photo up … so other women can take heed.  I did blur out the other person in the pic (see, I do still have an edit button.)

Last night:

Nic and I were chatting about his ‘donor’  I won’t give him the noble title of ‘Father’ or ‘dad’ he earned neither. 

There is a catchy song on the radio by an entertainer named Mackelmore.  When I looked this song up, I was surprised to find he resembled said ‘donor’ when I knew him in the clubs.  Only, donor had darker blonde hair and a leather jacket.  But, similar looking. See below.  That is Mackelmore.

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Damien Lewis also reminds me of a young version of donor

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I wanted to compare to be sure – as it’s been over 18 years since I saw ‘donor’ young. 

I went onto Facebook where I am friends with ‘donors’ mother.  I use the term ‘friend’ loosely.  I think we only chatted twice.  Once she actually asked me to send pictures of Nic?  Um …. It’s Facebook – I have a WHOLE BUNCH of photo albums chock-a-block full of pictures of Nic.  Click on them woman!

There were 3 pictures of donor in her album.  So I typed her name and … nothing.  She had unfriended me!!!

Now, the last message I sent to her was just before Nic turned 18.  basically saying that it would be the last time I reached out and made an effort.  I’ve had this notion from the get go that just because donor didn’t want to be in his son’s life, didn’t mean I should punish Nic’s paternal grandparents.  I took him to meet his paternal grandmother as a newborn.  She didn’t want to hold him.  I took him to say good-bye when I was about to move to Nevada when Nic was in 2nd grade.   They took a few Polaroids.  The second visit before we left town was met with donor on the couch.  (Gee, thanks for giving me the heads up that my son is about to meet his donor with no preparation.)

That was the first and only time that donor and son ever met. 

I recall he took Nic out onto the playground as I waited nervously – he introduced him to everyone as his son and then showed him his DJ equipment at his apartment (same complex).

That was it.

Nothing more.

I left town and never saw him again.  Never pressed for child support.  Never contacted him.  He made it very clear he did not want to be a father – so be it. 

Now, his mom not only unfriended me … but blocked me.  And that ticked me off. 

It’s one thing to be a deadbeat dad, but what grandparent doesn’t want to know their grandchild?!?!

If a girl came to me holding a baby and saying it was my sons child – I’d have quite a chat with Nic.  Did you have sex with this girl?  If so – then there IS a chance this is your child.  If you do not believe that to be the case, initiate tests to determine the truth.  If it is your child, step up and provide for that child.  Emotionally and financially. 

Was there ever a conversation about Nic between them I wonder?

So I’m sore about being ‘dissed’ by grandma.   Nic says he’ll find him and we start searching the net.  He announces “I FOUND HIM!”  My boy is a funny guy … on his ipad, in the google search box were just the words “Dead Beat Dad”.  Ha ha.

I entered his name … and did find him.

It wasn’t until I saw his smiling, carefree face that I realized how angry I still am.

Not only smiling and carefree, but evidently quite the avid fisherman now (AND reviewing expensive rods and reels on Amazon.  That’s just super that you have extra money to spend on your hobby there champ!)

Here is the photo:  He’s on the left

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I wanted to punch him in the face.  I wanted that fish to suddenly pull a Monty Python “I’m not dead yet!” and bite his pointing finger off. 

The frustration that I feel seeing him enjoying his life when he walked away from his responsibilities is beyond my ability to describe. 

I have been angry a lot of today. 

I have to stop – drop and roll.  No, that’s for something else …

I have to stop.  Breathe.  Look at fact.

  • I chose not to pursue financial assistance from this man, knowing Nic’s life would be better for not having him in it
  • It is donors loss not knowing Nic
  • I don’t know if his life has been easy or enjoyable from 1 photo
  • I don’t know that he wasn’t eaten by that fish …

What I do know is I have more forgiving to do.  Because I’m not there yet on this one. 

On a happy note – Nic isn’t phased by any of this.  I don’t know where he gets his resilience, but I’m glad he has it.  I also hope he has bail money should I ever bump into donor in the future.

Predatory Lending … but with cute stickers!

It’s started.  The unsolicited offers to my just turned 18, High School attending son.

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Who could resist?  Teens can choose from an adorable kitten sticker or how about a fun “I’m Fine How Are You?”one?

All for the low, low APR of 29.9%.  But, wait!  Act now and the first year is 0% APR!  So you can rack up a nice bill before it changes depending on the market!

Ah – those video games you don’t have the money for right now?  Don’t worry … charge it!

You’re 18 – you are now legally able to spend more than you can pay back.

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Fingerhut will be stalking him next no doubt.  Is Colombia House still around?  Guess I’ll know when he gets a shipment of 6 CDs for a penny … with only 6 more to buy.

Get off our kids!