Dear Everyone Who Thinks I am a Giant Asshole Right Now,
You’re right. I am. I want not to be, but at the same time I want to be left alone. Catch me between the hours of 7:45-4:30 Monday-Friday, and you’ll meet with the Wendy that everyone wants and/or needs me to be. About 30 seconds after I return home though, I’m a slight variant of daytime WW. I am trying as hard as I possibly freaking can to be the best mom I know how to be. ESPECIALLY after last week’s revelation, I am trying as hard as I possibly can to be the best wife I know how to be. Those two roles are the roles absolutely most critical to those most critical to me, and with renewed purpose, I have thrown myself in the best way I know how. Having said that, I know even my very best attempts will still be grossly inadequate for those boys I love so. My husband and my children need and deserve the best I can muster, so I am family-focused, but that doesn’t leave room for much else these days.
It was pointed out to me recently that since it’s been a year, I should be much more accepting of my son’s MD by now and move forward. Really? F-you. I love how people who are not me feel free scripting my emotions for me. Thanks, but I got this. I don’t have this well, but I’ve got something and it’s mine. Family, friends, Romans, countrymen–I love you and need you no less than ever, even more probably, but you won’t know it because I won’t tell you. I have built a shell of sorts, a little fort, a safe-harbor for me. My fort is teeny-tiny though, leaving little room for anything much after 4:30, unless I choose differently. I know this is a tad egocentric (a tad, Wendy?), but this week of revelations showed me yet another thing I hadn’t recognized in myself–once I’m off the clock, I want what I want when I want it, and only on my terms, which is not fair to those who don’t want to deal with my inner toddler. I suspect my co-workers would suggest that I want what I want when I want it applies at the office too, and they’d be correct, but it’s to a lesser degree and (I believe) for the greater good of our speech-language pathologists. I like my fort though, and it fits me well. But it fits only me. Someday, I’m told, I will regret my hibernation period. I pretty much already know it, but today that doesn’t change my want to hunker down.
This week was an unusual one for me–it wasn’t BAD–it wasn’t, just unusual, so please watch your step as you continue with me on this week’s strange, disconnected journey.
Last June I wrote about my favorite color. The kids and I were packing up for this week’s piano lessons when my big kid called my attention to the sky. It was magnificent. My iPhone’s camera could never do it justice, but the swaths of pink, orange, purple and blue shading the evening clouds were breathtaking. Equally spectacular was to know that my son noticed the sky, and that he gets that from ME! My kid gets nothing whatsoever from his mother (beyond his intellect, obviously!! hahahahahaha), and often he is an island much like I am right now. Hmmmm. His noticing the sky meant that he does listen to me, that he does pay attention to the little things sometimes. I wept just a little as I tried to capture the moment, even though I knew that cameras never quite can.
You know how when you moved into your new house, you swore you could NOT live with that awful kitchen, and then 12 years later you still have that awful kitchen? Yeah. Well, we finally decided that 2016 is the year of the kitchen remodel project. We spent two evenings this week meeting kitchen contractors, touring showrooms and granite galleries, and you know what stands out most? Realizing that our future kitchen layout will be designed with our son’s future in mind. His hips and shoulders are already weakened, so we’ll want to consider appliance placement into our design plans (well we don’t WANT to, but we will because we are not giant assholes all the time and our child is like one of the more important people to us ever, top 3 for sure). Our oven will end up being a wall mount at mid-level to avoid lifting heavy pans up or down. Same with the microwave–it won’t be mounted above the cooktop or set low to make accessibility easier for him. Probably no one cries at kitchen design meetings–tears are saved for when the estimates arrive and you realize there is no way you can afford this!–and I didn’t cry either. But I did brood for awhile afterward, not gonna lie about that one. Sometime in 2016, behind those stone walls you see above will be a brand new kitchen. Oh, how I’ll miss that sunflower wallpaper border and navy blue/clear glass and brass light fixture. No. No, I won’t. It’s awful, really it’s just awful.
One of my not-resolutions for this year was to be more direct, and toward that end, I attempted to be direct with someone in my world of work. It didn’t go so well, not that I expected it to, but I tried and will try again. Unusual week event #392 occurred Friday as I was direct (in that I didn’t completely avoid it, which I really wanted to) and completed my son’s MDA camp application. It took a considerable amount of time, and every time I checked a box, what I would have much preferred was to have closed out the webpage and cranked up my iPod. At some point midway, our server went down at work, and I actually felt a wave of relief (I’m such a chickenshit) when I couldn’t proceed. But I did, and I am glad I did something in a direct manner, however unusual it was for this first-timer.
I even posted on Facebook that I did the application which felt like a huge reveal. I’m sure if you read this blog, you wonder how I can have verbal diarrhea here, yet hold things more closely there–can’t explain it myself. Different writing vehicles, different purpose, different audience. It’s easier to write here because blogging here is like dropping off a package. I hit publish and I’m done, the package arrives on your doorstep. Ding-dong. I don’t see your face as you open it, and I don’t even know who’s doing the unwrapping. Do you like it? Does it fit? Is it the right color? Are you amused or bored with this post or that one? Am I a self-indulgent egomaniac or a messenger you want to hear from again? Here I don’t know which. Facebook is immediate, and I know everyone there. Here I can write about MD as often as I want–it’s my essential purpose as a blogger. There I get the message that I need to move forward and that I’m selfish. I’m not even suggesting those things are untrue, but what do I do? I hang out in my fort, my little fixer-upper, its dream kitchen furnished with stuff in just the right places. I like it here; right now it feels like home.