The Perfect Guy

Literally every day of my life, something happens that makes me think, "Thank God I married James." James has said to me enough times that I remember it a lot: "I know you're not perfect, but you're perfect for me." And that's exactly how I feel about him. He is *the* partner for me. I tell him this, but probably not enough. It's really quite spectacular.

So to the men (yep, multiple) who tried to change me, and to the church people who tried to steer me straight on more than one occasion... I'm really sorry you wasted your time and energy. Turns out I didn't need you or your "helpful" advice. I am actually fine, and all of the decisions that I needed to make to end up where I am now were fine. I just needed a few years to be truly myself, accepted for what I am, in order to realize who I was, absent other people's approval-based persuasion.

Not a day goes by that I do not marvel at the match James and I make. There have been so many changes to my life and my worldview that would have made me completely unfit for anyone else I might have ended up with. There's a whole laundry list in my head that I can't detail here without insulting people or telling others' stories, but... I heard this on Saturday Night Live a couple of weeks ago, and it will always make me think of my amazing husband. He's pretty easy to love, too.

Birthday wishes and a bit of looking back

Happy birthday, D!

I won't say the trite things like "I can't believe you're 17" or "It all happened so fast," mostly because I CAN believe it, and it happened in exactly 17 years. I've been uploading pictures to the cloud from old back-up thumb drives, and have relived so much of your life through visual memories in the past few days. And I have some thoughts. (surprise, surprise)

Man, I've loved being your mom. Most of my best memories involve you, even if you don't remember them yourself. The pictures bear out those times. But they also testify quietly to some things you CAN'T see in the pictures. Every parent, every person, has things in their life that they would like to go back and tweak. I don't spend too much time worrying about those things. But there are several overreaching aspects of your childhood, and of being your mom, that I regret significantly and wish I had not done/could undo/had done better. They are:

1) Authoritarian parenting. I didn't ever think about whether there was another way when you were a kid. It was all I'd been exposed to, and so it was easy to fall into that. And when telling you what to do didn't work, I would tell you what to do again... either LOUDER or just with more words. Over and over again. And I hate that. I desperately wish that when you'd been born, I'd seen our relationship as more of a partnership than a top-down enterprise. I always tried to respect your opinion and personhood, but it was always with the idea that I was in charge. I am sorry. I'm sorry it took me until you were a teenager to realize that there was another way. 

2) Lack of empathy when you were genuinely in need. There have been times in your life when I've been incredibly impatient with you when you expressed exhaustion and frustration at times that were inconvenient to me. When I look back on them, I can think of only a few reasons I reacted in such an ugly manner.

The first is that, when I've recognized that you absolutely COULD do something (like math when you were 6, or riding a bike a few miles when you were 11), I thought pushing you to complete it using whatever means necessary would eventually help you see that you were capable, too. How stupid. That doesn't work for me; why would I think it would work for someone else?

The second is that, in some situations when you were ready just to give up, I didn't have an out or know what else to do. So I reacted in my own stress and inability to your stress and inability.

The final one is that, in times when I've been extremely needy and requiring the most support, I have found that same need in others to be ugly. So maybe I was kind of mad that you needed emotional support when I didn't feel like I had any to spare? 

Regardless, I'm so sorry. I wish I'd stopped everything every time and sat with you to figure out a way we could work it out together. The "reasons" I've thought of aren't an excuse, and I regret it deeply.

3) Related to the above, but encompassing a lot more: I wish that the day I filed for divorce, I'd started the habit of waking up every morning and looking at myself in the mirror and reminding myself, "You're the adult. You're doing what you need to do. Your feelings will save for later; take care of D's." I was so focused on my own hurt for a good year and a half after the divorce that I was not at all as attentive to your moods and needs as I should have been. I wish I'd left the church after the first meeting with the elders; that failed reconciliation process sucked so much energy and joy that I could have focused on you. I wish I'd not tried to maintain any extra-familial relationships that required energy and were draining. In general, I'd never want to live any of my life over, but if I could go back to that time and do it over, knowing what I know now, I'd do it in a heartbeat. I failed you on so many occasions.

Those things said, I hope you know or someday will realize that I have always wanted you to be happy and have made conscious decisions at the time that I believed would be to your benefit. Even when I was wrong.

There was one time when you were about 5, and it was a gorgeous fall day, and you'd dressed up like you were going to a party, but we weren't going anywhere special. Instead, we went outside, and you were crunching around in the leaves and chasing butterflies. I sat down on the driveway because it was warm, having been in the sun all day. I thought, "This is a magical moment." Everything slowed down. I didn't have a camera, and knew I'd have to carefully remember everything  exactly as it was. You were happy and free and I absolutely relished those moments of your childhood.

Another favorite was driving all over Texoma with you, doing mystery shops, listening to audio books and eating French fries and trying on clothes. You were such a great companion; I never could have done those things if you hadn't been game. (I'll never forget coming back to the car after a revealed shop at the Burger King near Love Field when you told me, "Dumbledore is dead." I felt like a different person the whole drive home.)

Also, all of those day trips into Dallas to visit the art museum, or the zoos, or Sharkarosa Ranch. I hope you are glad we homeschooled. I feel like I had a chance to live another childhood of wonder and exploration because of it. 

I have always loved spending time with you. As you've matured and come into your own, I don't wistfully wish for those times back; I'm just extremely grateful to have had them. It's been a blessing to watch you grow up. I will miss you in a few years when you set off into your own solo adventure.

I love you. I hope you have a great 18th year. 

Mom

He Giveth and He Taketh Away (like Calgon)

This morning, Mal woke up early. raring to go to Target. When we got out, I realized that the 51 degree high for the day (yesterday was 85) had already been hit and the mercury was dropping. We ran by Chick-fil-A and got free chicken minis and a free "Sunrise" something that's basically just orange juice and soft serve mixed together, then went to the store. Mal picked out a couple of Cars, and on the way home, I got my free cow calendar treat for the month (which I couldn't order with the other free things, but two trips was no problem because it's in the Target parking lot), which was a chicken biscuit. James got the drink, D got the biscuit, and I offered the minis to Mal, who rejected, so I was forced to consume them.

When we got home. James was still in bed and, I have to tell you, I was not in the best head space about that. I'd already tweeted something snarky (which you can go see, because I'm not going to share it here, but I think I'm pretty funny), and just kept coming around to this thought I was repeating in my head about how, yes, I appreciate that James gets up early every morning during the week to go to work and support our family financially, but surely he realizes that even when I'm in bed when he leaves, I'm not asleep nor have I gotten much rest overnight and no, I don't want to fall into a "me or him" mentality but there is the fact that when our child is awake and one of us is asleep, the other one necessarily has to be awake, so would it be reasonable for me to hope that maybe my husband would offer just one Saturday a month where he would rise with the son and allow me a lie-in since he surely recognizes my contribution and desire for rest, also?

When James got up, he played with Mal while I made lunch. And did laundry. They were going outside, and I wanted to watch a video while I chopped stuff for the curry, but for some reason, it was taking FOREVER for them to get ready to go into the back yard, and so I loaded the dishwasher while I waited for the quiet, and then they finally went outside for like 4 minutes, as you might remember the temperature comment above.

THEN later, James asked Mal if he wanted to go down to the Cajun Festival at the park, so I drove them down and they were gone long enough for me to almost vacuum the whole house. Then James went back down there alone, and I have raging hormones right now, and my son is on 100% + at this general time, and... I needed a dang break.

"And the gods heard her prayer." To borrow a quote from "Once on This Island." Which is a different musical altogether, but we'll get to that.

Mal wanted to nurse. During the day. My mom made the comment, "I thought you were about through with nursing." WE WILL NEVER BE THROUGH. This is what they don't tell you when you have a squirmy newborn: If breastfeeding "takes," you will NEVER NEVER wean them. This is our life now.

Anyway, it turns out, he went to sleep at about 4:30. I was hoping this meant he was just feeling super stimulated from a busy week and might sleep all night, but even at 8:06 PM, we never know. It still looks promising, though.

SO, I got online and saw that the Easter performance of "Jesus Christ Superstar" Live in Concert was on YouTube.

I was vaguely aware of this show growing up, as we were a theater family. And while I don't remember hearing, "This is blasphemy!" about this particular show, as James does, we never really paid as much attention to it as we did Phantom or Les Mis or Into the Woods or Secret Garden.

When I was in college, though, majoring in theater with a concentration in musical theater, one of my classmates performed "Gethsemane" and I was absolutely floored. Totally sold on the whole thing. Listened to it a million times and loved it. I didn't enjoy the film too much, as it was so blatantly 70s, an aesthetic that I, ironically born in the early 70s, didn't embrace. (I'm sure the JCS I listened to was the revival, though I have adored Ted Neely's every dang performance.)

Watching this show was hugely cathartic. I sobbed at Pilate's initial song about his dream. I was transfixed by Brandon Victor Dixon as Judas every time he was on stage. Caiaphas was haunting. The musicians were flawless. The updates to the musical and visual style were fabulous. Sara Bareilles was genuine as Mary Magdalene, but there's no comparing her "I Don't Know How to Love Him" to Judas's reprise of the same song. Both she and John Legend, who played Jesus, are incredible singers and performers. And when they're the least memorable players in a production, you know it's top notch.

Oh, and Alice Cooper as King Herod? I literally gave him a standing ovation at my dining room table. His take on Herod was more "old school rock and roll" (to quote Andrew Lloyd Webber) than the kind of effeminate vaudeville style that is traditional. It was very satisfying to watch.

I felt more positively spiritually moved by that hour and 40 minutes than I have in years, I believe.

It's interesting to me the reaction of some people when new or "different" takes on familiar Bible stories come out. We do it with kids' books, making it available to them on their level. We do it in allegories and parables in study books to help drive home the point. But when the people from familiar Bible stories are presented as raw or urban or messed up, sometimes people's knee-jerk is to be offended and ignore the offering.

I find fresh eyes to be invigorating and thought-provoking.

The Bible isn't measured or tidy or easy to deal with. I think we get this white-washed version of Bible stories (meaning like paint, not like race, though we certainly do that, too) that make us thing that because people go to church and are generally quiet and respectful that it's the only honoring way to handle the material.

One thing I've appreciated about my pastor and the environment at my church this past year is their willingness to look at Scripture and literally ask, "What are we supposed to do with this?"

A funny thing... a few weeks ago, the scripture reading was from Numbers 21. Specifically: And the people spoke against God and against Moses, “Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? For there is no food and no water, and we loathe this worthless food." Then the LORD sent fiery serpents among the people, and they bit the people, so that many people of Israel died. And the people came to Moses and said, “We have sinned, for we have spoken against the LORD and against you. Pray to the LORD, that he take away the serpents from us.” So Moses prayed for the people. And the LORD said to Moses, “Make a fiery serpent and set it on a pole, and everyone who is bitten, when he sees it, shall live.” So Moses made a bronze serpent and set it on a pole. And if a serpent bit anyone, he would look at the bronze serpent and live.

Typically, at the end of such a reading, one would say something to the extent of, "This is the Word of the Lord." The reader, who has been the accompanist at this church for more than 30 years, just shook her head and said, "This... is the book we... cherish." And everybody cracked up. Because, seriously. What?

I hope there's room for that in most Christian circles. I think it's healthy.

And how it's 8:30 and I should be heading toward bed, since we'll probably be up at 3 and Mal will be starting since he really didn't eat anything today. Oy.

I still appreciate a few quiet hours to myself.

And I love my husband, of course. He does a lot. I just needed the chance to get out from under that cloud of funk.

Days of Wonder and Magic

This is such a fun time to be a parent, I think. Almost every day, we get to see Mal putting something new together. His way of processing it is so sweet and funny; we laugh a lot, and James and I have a lot to share as we experience him so differently on our own.

For instance, the other day, Mal was playing with this cash register he's had forever. It has a little calculator display screen, and he was putting in a number, then he'd open the register, and take money out. It took a couple of times for me to realize what he was doing, including my just typing in a 7 and his telling me that wasn't how to do it.

That was when I put it together: He'd press the "1," which would show up on the screen, then he'd clear it out, open the till, and pull out a one dollar bill. Next, he typed in "5," saw it on the screen, cleared it out, opened the till, and pulled out a five dollar bill. That was when I tried the 7, but he wasn't having it.

He cleared that out, looked at the pad, and asked me, "How do you do ten?" I said, "Press the 1." He did. "Now press the zero." He did, and looked at the result, then beamed that it had worked! Then he opened the drawer and took out a ten dollar bill.

After that, he'd type in numbers to see if I could do what he was putting in. Nothing crazy, just $90 or $40. At one point, he put in 0.0, so I told him to add a 1, and I pulled out a penny, explaining that's how you write it.

He stayed interested for a long time. Finally, after James got home and we were chatting, Mal played with it by himself long enough to bring up the "E" (for error), and asked how to make it do an "a." We had to explain that "e" is the only letter it has, and he worked for a while to try to get it to come back up.

That's Flo. We got her last weekend, after James had finished a couple of weeks of his new job. Mal asked for so many things when James was unemployed, and we said no so much more often than usual. Mal is thrilled to have a few more Cars cars. He plays with them every day.

In fact, he has a whole laundry list of toys he trots out every day, some times a couple of times a day: The Cars 2 set, plus any extras he's acquired (but we've lost Carla Veloso and Holly Shiftwell, sadly); his Star Wars Micro Machines sets; PJ Masks; the Star Wars Hot Wheels Death Star set; and some type of "egg challenge." Mal watches those toy videos on YouTube, so he likes for us to hide the toys he already has either in plastic eggs, or in play dough.

He's still pretty bossy about the scripting of the scenes, but is getting better at improvising, too. His imagination is incredible, and as a result, he's starting to have vivid "stories," or dreams.

The other night, he woke up terrified, saying, "I don't like the jungle! I don't want to go there!" I told him we wouldn't. He said, "The koala was trying to eat my foot!" I assured him a koala wouldn't try to eat his foot. He said, "And an alligator." Me: ...

We had a long, busy day today, as we ran a bunch of places and then James took part in a 2-hour focus group after work. We were in Mal's room playing this evening when he had all of his PJ Masks out on his table, along with his sack of Hot Wheels cars. He asked me to pull out several specific cars he likes to use with his characters, and I told him he could do it himself.

Mal said, "I can't! I have to finish some work first!"

Then he put his hands up on the table and mimed typing, vocalizing, "Beep, beep, blooop, beep, blorp..." for a few moments, before announcing, "I'm finished! Now I can play!"

I got the cars out for him.

On a likely-related note, yesterday at different times, I was trying to finish and file our taxes, and fill out paperwork to transfer the title to our new car, and a couple of other administrative things. Mal was still wanting to talk to me (I incorrectly wrote a number I know by heart) and bounce around on the chair I was sitting in. I kept asking him to PLEASE step away and that I'd play with him as soon as I was finished with what I was doing.

There's so much more, but I promised I wouldn't stay up until 1 AM again tonight. Looks like I'm a liar.

That's another thing: Mal has taken to going to bed around 11 PM and waking up at 9:30ish (with the normal nighttime rousings). Today I got my chores done before he was out of bed, and the other day I showered, which is nice. But I'm more of an early-to-bed/early-to-rise kind of gal, and it seems like a lot of things we want to do are earlier. Like a free breakfast from Chick-fil-A.

Maybe it's a season. He used to go by daylight, so at the beginning of winter, he was going to bed super early. Now that he's used to staying awake 4-5 hours after the sun goes down, I'm a bit concerned about this summer!

"Marriage is Hard"

More than a decade ago, I read a story in a Christian book about marriage. This guy, Gary Thomas, was talking about how frustrated he got that his wife never refilled the ice trays. He said that every time he had to refill them because there wasn't enough ice available when he wanted it, he got more and more resentful. One day, as he was slamming stuff around and mumbling to himself about the whole thing, he thought, "Why can't she just do this thing? It only takes about seven seconds."

Then it hit him: It only takes seven seconds. Why was it such a big deal that he had to do it? Was he so selfish that he was willing to strain his marriage for something so small? He went on to talk about how being in such proximity to someone really shines a light on our "sin" and that maybe that's by design.

It's a convicting story.

It's also a tiny part of a bigger problem with the way the Christian church treats marriages. I've had many friends whose marriages were in crisis, including myself, be told, "Yeah, that's rough. But you know, marriage is hard. You just have to keep at it and trust God to work a miracle."

Which, I mean, is great advice if your marriage's problem is that your insensitive spouse doesn't refill the ice cube trays. Or forgets your birthday. Or if you're in a rut. Or if your kids are gone and you don't know each other and can't figure out what to do next. Or if you've allowed hurt feelings to fester and have covered them over with a veneer of carelessness.

But there is a difference between "He knows I wanted that cereal for breakfast, and he always eats the last serving," and "He took my phone when I got home because he said I didn't know how to use it properly as I texted him instead of calling, as he demanded." There is a difference between "She said she'd pick me up from work, then she forgot and went out with friends, and I can't get a hold of anyone," and in your wife talking on the phone to her paramour while she's taking a bath, and then gaslighting you when you explain that it's disconcerting.

There's a big difference between the myriad of "people brushing up against people in close proximity" problems that are common in the world and in consistent, repetitive, unaddressed habits that stem from chronic infidelity or undiagnosed mental illness or controlling and manipulative personalities. 

There are ways to abandon your spouse that don't include physical abandonment or sexual infidelity or violent abuse. There are ways to slowly destroy a person from within that might not be overtly visible.

And when the church tells these people, "God hates divorce" in an effort to strong-arm them into staying in an unhealthy situation, I believe they are incorrectly using the scriptures. When every single person and healthcare (physical and mental) provider says, "You need to get out" but the church says, "You need to stay and bring honor to God," it can't always be just that everyone else doesn't take marriage as seriously as they should.

There is a level of dysfunction that should never be summarily dismissed as "you're just selfish and you're not trying hard enough" by spiritual leaders. This, to me, is not only spiritual abuse, but it also does one of two things: Further batters the spirit of the person being advised, or pushes that person away... from that church, and maybe from all churches and even God. And maybe a combination of those two.

Here is something I've learned that I hope you can believe me when I tell you, because, really, I don't want anyone else to have to learn this through experience: Marriage isn't effortless. It takes attention and intention and sometimes just going through the motions because that's all you can do. But, you know what? There might be moments when it's hard... really hard... but it's not difficult. And it's not always easy, but sometimes... it is. If there's never a moment where you can rest in your marriage, then just know that's not how it should be. And if you're being told you're at fault for realizing there's something very wrong, then go somewhere else and get better counsel.   

A Scenario: A Day at the Office

See if any of this sounds familiar to you…

You pull into the parking lot at work a full half hour early. You’ve brought a bagel and cream cheese and contemplate whether to sit in your car and listen to NPR while you eat it, or whether to go into the break room to refresh the bagel in the toaster.

However, approaching your parking space, you see your boss, pacing around, looking agitated. He flags you down, and you lower your window as you approach.

“Good morning?” you say tentitively. And before you can unlatch your seatbelt, he has started on a list of “must-do”s that need to be addressed immediately. You know there’s no use explaining that it’s not technically time to start work yet. You get out and follow him into the building.

By the time you hit the front door, he has given you seven urgent demands, a few of which contradict each other and two which, not only can you not do, but science hasn’t developed the technology to make it physically possible.

Your mind races, prioritizing and strategizing how best to meet the impossible demands in a way that will satisfy him, even as you fall short.

As you make your way to your desk to get started, he calls you into his office. He has the reports from last night’s automatic tests, and he wants to read them to you.

“Do you just want me to take a look at them?” you ask.

He gives you the side eye, and so you settle in, waiting for him to start.

He reads the first page, but it just doesn’t make any sense. It’s like he ran the reports through Google Translate into some language that sounds vaguely related to English, but not exactly English. You struggle to stay with him, until you finally have to admit--

“I’m sorry. I’m having a hard time following that. Can I just read it myself?”

He doesn’t dignify this request with a response, but starts over, a little more slowly but more agitatedly this time.

It’s the coffee, you realize. You haven’t had any, and your brain isn’t functioning properly. You need to get some coffee, and that thought suddenly becomes the only thing on which you can focus.

He sees your attention drifting and starts over, unbidden, this time YELLING THE WORDS AT THE TOP OF HIS LUNGS.

Actually, that helps a bit. You get the general idea and make more mental notes of what it is you need to do about it when you get to your desk. Which should be any time now, right?

Then your boss looks back over his shoulder, and something outside catches his attention. Other employees have arrived, and the parking lot is full. He darts past you and out the door.

You’re used to this kind of erratic behavior by now, so you take the reports he was reading and walk into the corridor, reviewing the salient points on your walk to your cubicle.

Your boss intercepts you, taking you outdoors with him to show you a travesty.

“That car,” he points, “Is parked over the line. We need to move it. But we can’t because that car is too close to the side. So we need to move all of the cars.”

You know there’s no point in trying to convince him that it’ll be fine the way it is, so you say, “I’ll get everyone to come out and move--”

“We’ll do it. Get their keys.”

“Their-- whose?”

“Everyone’s.”

“You want me to go inside and gather everyone’s keys?”

He nods. You drudge back in, going desk to desk. No one even asks. They just hand over their keys and go about their business.

When you return outside, your boss is nowhere to be seen. You go to the farthest car to start moving them as he mentioned, and realize that you really should have asked whose car belonged to which keys, because you’re going to have to try until you find the one that works.

As you fumble through the remote entry fobs, you see that your boss has gone back inside and is on the phone. You move all of the cars except the last one, for which you realize you don’t have a key.

The owner of that car is in another building, and she comes out just as you’re squeezing out of the car beside hers, parked insanely close now. She gives you a dirty look and makes it a point to have her passenger’s side mirror hit the driver’s side mirror of the car you’re in as she pulls out. Your coworker probably won’t even notice. Then the mirror falls off, hanging by the cables. She’ll probably notice.

You go back inside, determined to snag some caffeine before you do anything else. You can tell your boss is about to talk to you, so you head him off at the pass.

“I’m on my way to the kitchen. Do you want me to get you anything?” you offer.

He smiles, “The usual!”

You go into the kitchen, pouring your coffee and adding the milk. The way the dairy swirls into the brown liquid soothes your soul, for some reason. You watch it for a moment, then move on to the cabinets. You pull out the bread, some peanut butter, a tin of tuna, and a jar of sweet pickles.

You knew. You knew when you got this job that he was eccentric. Well, you were told. You didn’t really know know. Now you know.

Making this sandwich, even while breathing through your mouth so as not to catch a whiff of the odd assemblage of ingredients, centers you even more. You spread the peanut butter on the square of indecently white bread. You smooth it, taking more care than is necessary, and more pride in the slick surface than the task warrants.

You inhale, picking up your coffee-- and he beckons.

You hurredly lick the knife, and two hours into your day, the remnants of the creamy peanut butter might as well be a perfectly-cooked steak. You slam down your caffeinated beverage and carry the sandwich into your boss’s office.

He asks you how much of his to-do list you’ve knocked out so far.

It’s pointless to say, “None of it! I’ve been doing other stuff you’ve asked me to do. I haven’t done one single thing, of course!” So you mumble something about really digging into it now.

He smiles, placated, picks up his food with one hand, and starts scrolling on his computer with the other. You hurry out, eager to leave before the disturbed sandwich starts releasing its odor anew.

For the first time today, you sit down at your desk. You power on your computer and notice the voice mail light blinking on your phone. You pick it up, punch in the code--

“Can you come here for a moment?” your boss calls from his desk. He means you. He always means you.

You manage not to slam the phone back down as you stand.

“Yes?” you ask as pleasantly as possible.

“It’s not working,” he says, motioning to his monitor.

You say, “I’ll give IT a call.”

“That won’t be necessary. You can fix it.”

Again, to argue this point would waste time, and you probably can fix it, anyway.

Ten minutes later, the boss’s computer is back up and running, and your nasal passages are full to the brim with sweet pickles, tuna, and peanut butter. You carry the plate back into the kitchen, place it in the dishwasher, and return to your desk.

Your chair is missing.

You sit on your desk and pick up your phone, determined to check voicemail messages. Once those are cleared out, you’re starting to feel some momentum kicking in.

Then a voice over the PA system announces that there is an office celebration in the conference room, and everyone has to go celebrate, including you, whether you want to or not.

The entire day passes like this: false starts, interruptions, genuine attempts to be helpful and productive; distractions; minutiae; concern that you’re never going to get caught up, much less ahead; and maybe, on the rare occasion, a victory moment when you get to mark a single item off of your seemingly endless “to do” list.

“Can you come in here for a moment?”

For the fifteenth time today, at the least.

You stand in the boss’s doorway and see him pull his keys out of the top desk drawer.

“I’m taking off a little early. Cover for me?”

You try to hide your unmitigated relief and nod seriously. You watch him walk out of the office, down the corridor, and you can see him getting into his car from the back window.

He forgot to turn off his computer.

You sit at his desk, log off, and--

The electricity goes out in the whole building.

You had a clear path ahead. You were going to get so much done this last hour.

Instead, you sit in the dark, soaking in the silence. You don’t pack up and leave like everyone else. You just sit. It gets quieter. It feels a little bit like heaven. You close your eyes for a moment--

The lights come back on.

You startle, looking outside. The sun is coming up? How can that be? It was just 4 o’clock two seconds ago!

But no. It’s morning again, and the boss has just pulled up. He’s getting out of his car.

It can’t be. You’re not ready. You haven’t caught up from yesterday, not in terms of work and not even mentally. You’re exhausted.

Then you see his morning-fresh face, and notice his peculiar gait.

“I’m in love with him,” you say aloud, as if you needed the reminding.

You love him. With all of your heart. And that’s why you do this. That is why you put in your best effort every single day. That is why you try to take his ridiculous demands seriously, and why you genuinely want to do what will satisfy him, even if you don’t always understand it.

But before he can throw you off of your game, you dash to your desk, tear your day-old bagel into bits, and dip it in the schmear, cramming it into your mouth as quickly as possible, and mentally noting that you need to brush up on self-Heimliching. As soon as you get some free time.

Does this whole scenario ring any bells?

If so, then my guess is that you have a toddler. Because this is every dang day of my life right now. And I’m going to go sit in the dark for a few minutes.

Failed Sabbath

Today wasn't a bad day, but, man, am I weary.

Mal slept "in" both days this weekend, meaning just past 7 instead of his usual hitting the ground running at 6 deal (which I hope sticks, because DST ends soon, and I won't want to be up and at 'em at 5!). I had planned to get to work on some of James' grandma's sausage balls first thing today, but Mal needed some attention.

First, he'd consumed a lot of liquids overnight, and just before we got up, his diaper must have reached critical mass. I grabbed him and pulled him into the bathroom and changed his diaper, and we got started on our day.

After spending some time playing in Mal's room, we went into the kitchen for me to start on the sausage balls. I also decided to make some chocolate chip pumpkin bread to take to the potluck. In the meantime, James got up, and we took all of the sheets and the mattress cover off of our bed because they needed a wash, thanks to Mal's little incident.

When the sausage was cooked, I put the pumpkin bread in, but it became obvious that it wasn't going to be ready before I left. I asked James to take it out when it looked done, which made him nervous, so I set the timer. It turns out I didn't set it for long enough, but that wasn't apparent until later.

I moved the first load of laundry into the dryer and started the second, then got enough stuff together to (hopefully) keep Mal entertained while we went to the last New City service.

Actually, Mal did great. The music was louder than he's used to at our church now, so he was kind of clingy during the song service and even a bit after. When he started to get restless, we just sat down on the floor in the back and he did fine. He was getting more bold about going to see people and wanting to run around just as the service ended, which was perfect.

At that point, it was time for his nap, but he was doing well enough that we stayed for the pot luck.

First, I'm glad James had the idea for me to make his grandma's sausage balls (which weren't actually balls, but mounds because I was running short on time and lazily used the cookie scoop, which led one guy setting out the pot luck food to put my sausage with the desserts) because there were chips and some fruit and a salad and only one other meat item and then plenty of sweets. Incidentally, someone else made chocolate chip pumpkin muffins, so my bread wasn't missed at all.

We left at about 1:30, and of course Mal fell asleep in the car. When we got to the apartments, I stopped by the office to get Daphne's tablet, which had come in the mail yesterday but apparently was too large for the boxes at the mail house. There was only one person in the office, though, and she was in the middle of selling people on renting here. I waited seven minutes and didn't feel comfortable leaving Mal in the car any longer (even though I could see him where I was standing).

Once I got him upstairs and settled on the couch, I asked D if she wanted to go down with me to try again. Mal's been having some great naps; Friday, he even slept well over an hour before he woke up the first time. Saturday, he slept two and a half hours, only waking once. I felt confident that, given his level of exhaustion, it'd be fine for me to step out for a few moments.

We went back to the office, and this time she was out. We ate some Starbursts and I used the restroom and finally she came back and unlocked the door so I could get the package. Then we headed back and... as we rounded the corner to the apartment, James was out on the stoop with Mal, getting ready to put him in the stroller. Ugh. He woke up while I was gone and was hysterical, so James was bringing him to find us.

I brought him in and tried for half an hour to get him back to sleep, but he wasn't going. He slept only an hour, and I knew then it was going to be a long afternoon. When Mal is awake but should be asleep, he cries at the drop of the hat, even if there's no hat or no dropping. He just weeps. Sobs. Fusses. It's exhausting.

I'd taken him outside to have Naked Patio Time, but Daphne needed help with her tablet, so James played with Mal while I went to help her. Mal didn't like this and would come to the baby gate and cry, then let James distract him, then come back to the baby gate. After a while, I let Mal into Daphne's room because I couldn't take it.

We realized she needed a USB extension cord, so ordered from Prime Now. While we waited for that, I dried the second load of laundry, emptied the dishwasher (with help from James, who'd run the dishwasher for me because he's awesome), and put the pumpkin bread, which I'd realized was still liquid in the center, back into the oven.

Mentally picture all of this happening with Mal happily playing at my feet, then crying or biting me or screaming every, oh, two minutes or so, for two hours. I tried several times to lay him down and nurse him to sleep, but he kept wanting to get up.

James and I teamed up to make the bed, and I put away the other laundry. After a while, James, exhausted, lay down for a nap and I just took Mal into his room to give him undivided attention for a while. He is really raw in the diaperous region, and he was very busy on that front today, so... good times. Good, good times.

But he was sweet... he's trying to figure out kissing, but right now, there is a lot of teeth and some tongue stuff going on. So there's room for improvement. Anyway, he was blowing zerberts, trying to bite my nose, and attacking my face like a monster some of the time. Then he had me get out the "James, age 5" doll his grandma made, and we put clothes on it and set it up in his room... but he wanted it to play with him, so I got to be a puppeteer for a while.

Finally, James got up and joined us and I can't remember being more happy to see him in a long time!

When the USB extension cable got here, we were still having problems with the tablet not showing graphics, which is the whole reason we got this one to replace the one she had before, on which she could use a stylus to draw, but the picture would only show up on the computer, not the pad. After a little research, we realized that she actually also needs an HDMI/DVI adapter. So I ordered *that* from Prime Now and we're still waiting on it.

Meanwhile, Mal was in Daphne's room while we worked on the tablet issue, and he was just crying nonstop at this point. It was about 6:30, but I decided that his day was over. I brought him to bed and nursed him to sleep, then I was able to get a shower and help Daphne some more before he woke up the first time. He's awakened two other times, but now that it's actually a little past his regular bedtime, I'm hoping he'll just stay asleep.

At some point this afternoon, I told James, "I think I tried to do too much today." He asked, "You think?" It didn't feel like too much when I was setting out to do it, and I hadn't planned on the two loads of laundry that had to be done or else we'd have been sleeping in pee tonight, but I was also counting on a good long nap for the boy. It's crazy how much the day is changed when that falls apart, isn't it?

Aww, but look at him... So, so worth it.

Now I'm looking forward to tomorrow, and just staying home, and not having to do anything on any given time frame. Hoping Mal sleeps well tonight, and we'll try getting our Sabbath rest tomorrow.

Today, so far

I have a blog in the pipes (meaning: intention; hopefully it will get done) about a couple of cool things we've found in our "neighborhood" or immediate vicinity this week. However, today happened, and I had to share my day.

6:30 AM - Mal wakes up. It's still dark. We go out on the patio for a while to welcome the cloudy day, then come in to get breakfast ready for James.

Mal has this new thing where he makes the sound that the coffee grinder makes because I guess he wants me to use it. But I didn't need to this morning, and he was upset. I handed him the grinder and he played happily with it until he wanted food, so I poured us a bowl of cereal,

We went back on the patio to eat (milk + cereal + my baby = almost guaranteed mess) but he kept wanting to put his hands into the cereal since he usually eats that cereal dry. So I brought him back in, put him in the kitchen floor, and handed him a bowl of the puffs. He not only dumped them into the floor, he started crunching them with his feet. I asked him not to, put the cereal back into the bowl, and held on to it for him while he took a few.

My son has an "interesting" habit right now: He will put something in his mouth, maybe chew it a time or two, and then be done with it. Especially if it's bigger than small-bite-size. I'm having to chop his grapes up because even though he CAN do it with his teeth, he'll often bite it, end up with one piece he wants to swallow, and just put the rest in the floor. He did that a few times, and as I was getting ready to put the lid on the bowl so he couldn't get any more until he finished what he had, he spilled them AGAIN and started smashing them with his feet AGAIN.

I moved him to the living room so I could sweep and mop (sticky floors my bare feet do not love).

Finally, we got James off to work, and we played in Mal's room. We have been reading every single board book he owns twice every day for a while now. We usually read "Hand, Hand, Fingers, Thumb" about 12 times per day, thrice to half a dozen times per sitting. He loves it.

Mal actually ended up going to sleep at 10, which is super early. He's been taking his one - and often only - nap at around 1 lately. But I was glad. He was so tired, he needed it!

When he woke up, I invited him on an "adventure" and we went to The Home Depot for sand. He's been playing in his sandbox for over a week with no sand, and he doesn't care. I knew he'd love the improvement.

They have car carts at Home Depot, so that was good times. We got 150 pounds of sand (and no one offered to help us out to our car; just myself and a baby... thanks for the great customer service!), and then went across the street to Chick-fil-A.

Okay, you may have issues with the now-deceased owner's social views, but CFA knows what they're doing with their core customer base. This might have been around for a while, but I'd never seen it before... probably because I didn't need it until recently. But they have the little cups (like that they put the small carrot raisin salad in) at the end of the counter, and they're full of Cheerios. There's a sign that says something like "If your kids are too small to 'Eat mor chickn,' enjoy these with our compliments."

Also, they have books in their kids' meals, but if you have a kid under 3, they have board books! So Mal got a book in addition to his food, and my meal was free (thanks to my cowlendar card).

Then we went into the playground. Mal looked around for a while, then got brave.

After a bit of that, we came back home. I asked Daphne if she'd mind watching Mal so I could bring the three 50-pound bags of sand up to the apartment.

When I'd pulled in, there was a landscaping truck and trailer taking up the 7 or 8 closest spaces to my apartment, so I had to park about half a block away. When I went to get the sand, I decided to pull up very close, unload the sand, then move the car back. "Jerk," I thought, as I realized the truck was running and the landscaping guy was just sitting in there taking his break.

I moved my van, opened the back, unloaded the sand to the grass, then started to close the back door, but decided to lock it first, since it locks separately from the front doors and when I moved back to my parking space, my back doors would be in the bushes so I couldn't go back and do it manually.

Then I went around to move the van and... IT WAS LOCKED. Engine running, parked diagonally and blocking one of the paid covered parking spaces, and also blocking the sidewalk entrance. Ugh.

Just so you know, when I have my car running and Mal is in it, I always open one of the windows about 4 inches, so I can reach in if I happen to do something like this. Or, if my electronics system just messes up (which it does, and has, but usually this just involves the doors NOT locking, though once, the side door just randomly locked).

Anyway, I think I actually slapped my head with both hands like they do in cartoons when they realize they've done something stupid.

I grabbed a bag of sand to take it upstairs and was thinking quickly: James was 30 miles away at work. I could call the office and ask them if any of the maintenance guys could get into an old van. After all, wasn't it their fault because one of their contractors had stinking parked in such a way that their own tenants couldn't use their parking spots?!

Just as I came into the apartment, I remembered: Because my darling daughter has her own speed, and sometimes Mal has last-minute emergencies, I had made copies of our house key, apartment key, AND van key for her to keep, in case she ever needed them. Thank God!

She went and got me her key, and I was on my way downstairs when I saw the two remaining bags of sand at the bottom of the stairs. I walked down and the landscaping guy was standing there. "Thanks!' I said. He asked, "You're upstairs?" I told him I was, and that sweet feller walked the two other bags up to my doorstep while I moved my van back into the parking space further away.

Just think: If that "jerk" hadn't parked where he did, I'd have had to carry three times more sand upstairs than I did!

Apparently wanting to experience stuff with his feet has broad applications. He was trying alternately to scoop sand out onto the patio or put his feet up over the side of the sandbox. I gave him a little help...

After he'd played for a good long while, he was ready to get out. He wanted to come inside, but he was super sandy. So I pulled off his clothes, including his diaper. He still wanted to come in, but went right back out to "sweep" the patio. I thought, "What a great compromise! He likes to be naked, I want to get my security deposit back - so no peeing on the carpet."

He Swiffered in the nude for a few minutes, then, sure enough, peed while sitting on the concrete. Just like with the cereal and sand, he immediately started rubbing his feet in the puddle. Then I remembered my idea I'd implemented the other day with great success: A pan full of water!

I filled up his favorite sauce pan and a bonus cup with water. The bonus cup got dumped on the puddle immediately, and then Mal played in the water for another ten or fifteen minutes.

I have one picture I wish I could share, but the internets don't take kindly to adorbs naked baby pictures, so I won't. He just had an awesome time and was in a great mood when we came inside.

Later, though... Well, I ended up taking a hot and sweaty walk to the mailbox just so he'd go to sleep. Which he did. And my husband should be almost home now, so... It's time for a 4-day weekend!

Starting Our 4th Year

Three years ago yesterday, Laura forced her way into my life.

I was in a really bleak pit of despair at the time. I'm still more than a little shocked that she just bullied her way through the layers of funk that I'd built up to defend what was left of myself. Especially since she really wasn't in a great place herself.

It had all the trappings of some sort of horrible tragedy that centers around co-dependency.

Except that we'd been friends who deeply respected and cared for each other for about a decade and a half.

Laura loves to tell the story about how I blew her off that entire time. But my side of it is that one of us was in a relationship every other time the other one got free.

And neither of us is a cheater.

We've had a thing for each other since high school, but it would have been a betrayal to act on it before we did.

I'm sad about all the years we didn't spend together because of our inherent fidelity. Well, mostly hers. In the years of her previous marriage, I'd have happily indulged any inclinations to affairs she might have had (she didn't).

That could never have led to a serious relationship that's based around trust, sharing, and mutual support. I'm sure it works out for some people, but I can't imagine building a real relationship on a foundation of betrayal.

So I'm glad that we waited all these years so the one we have now could be based on bedrock.

Four years ago, I really couldn't imagine being involved in a stable relationship that lasted as long as six months. I just wasn't stable enough to even think about participating in that sort of thing.

And that was before my nose-dive into self-pity.

Laura likes to take all the credit for spending years working to get us together, and she deserves the vast majority.

She absolutely did take a huge gamble by driving to Tulsa, hoping that I'd check my email for a change and tell her where I lived. (This was complicated by the fact that road construction in Tulsa sucks and you had to know lots of back-road secrets that GPS and google didn't to actually find the place).

But she wasn't expecting anything more than a high school reunion before she moved to Austin. She might have been hoping for something magical, but I think she was pretty surprised when I asked if we could try turning it into a "thing."

Or maybe she just master-minded that entire thing so she could trick me into the longest relationship I've ever had (much less enjoyed!). I guess we'll find out at the same bat-time on the same bat-channel...

Movin' on Down...

Well, it's semi-official: We put in an offer on a house, got a counter-offer, and accepted that. We're going for a long closing (60 days) and a lot can happen during that time, but it looks like we'll be moving early this summer. We're going to have some overlap because our lease doesn't run out until the end of July, and we also want to move slowly and only have to do the truck thing with furniture.

Here's a picture of the trees in the front yard on the very overcast day we saw the house. Beautiful, right?

So, here's the lowdown for those of you who are interested: The house is still in Austin, but further south. It is within a mile of a lot of stuff, but I'm not familiar with anything that's not already a chain in the vicinity. Getting to know it will be fun! There is a Chick-fil-A nearby... not as near as here, but with the added bonus of actually having a dining room and playground, which is important when you have a little kid and live somewhere it's often too hot to play outside.

However, speaking of that... the house is about 1100 feet from Dittmar Park and Recreation Center.

I think our son liked it! Our daughter didn't come with us to see the house this time, because we've been looking at houses for a while and she's kind of over it. Now, of course... well, I'll have her go with me Monday for the end of the inspection.

The location is great, if the commute is a bit further for my husband, but let me tell you something about him and about us to kind of introduce this domicile in all of its glory:

First of all, we are paying for the house 67% of the pre-approval amount we received from the VA. I love this about my husband, and think he loves it about me. We don't want to spend as much as some lender thinks we can afford. We want something reasonable and comfortable. There were several houses we'd see online that James would say, "This one is too hoity-toity for us." And he was always right.

Yesterday, my 13-year-old daughter Daphne asked me, "Are we going to decorate it all the same?" I asked what she meant. She said, "You know. Some places have decorations that match. Are we going to do that, or is it going to be like it is" (gesturing about the Nuthaus) "around here?" I laughed and told her we're not that kind of people, so probably a lot like here. Only not, because we'll have closets and places to put a lot of what looks like clutter but is really just our stuff behind closed doors.

So many doors.

Which leads us to the big thing: This house is weird. It makes no sense. It was built in 1984 as a three-bedroom house. The two non-master bedrooms are so small that Daphne is going to end up with two rooms: a literal bed room and a library/study. Also, the guest bathroom is in that area of the house, and I've promised her that she won't have to deal with a potty-training kid or a young boy in her restroom, so she'll basically have a wing of the house to herself. I'm pretty excited for her.

The house has been added on to in ways that boggle the mind. It looks like they enclosed the back porch to make the "fourth bedroom." You can access this bedroom from the master, or from the back of the house. Direct entry to our room makes this the shoo-in for Mal's room, even though it's probably the biggest bedroom in the house, because being that close to parents is not appealing to the teen, and because baby gear is huge. I'm sure it's much safer than the smaller versions we all survived, though, right?

The living area is in the middle of the house, kind of like a courtyard... except enclosed. It's literally a den. But I have some ideas about how to brighten it up.

There's a galley kitchen, boasting a "custom butcher block" that is a bunch of glued-down pieces of striped wood with a really pretty trim, that matches nothing else in the kitchen. Also, there is one row of tile in the middle of the rest of the counter, and why it's there, who can tell?

There's a "study kiosk" that has a bunch of cable outlets. There is a built-in desk there, but it's so oddly placed, also in the middle of the house, that there is no light, the room is the width of the desk and only has room for a chair, that unless you're a hermit who requires no distractions, working in there would be a little depressing. Fortunately, we have the perfect use for that room! James likes to brew his own beer, and it can ferment in the dark and climate-control in here perfectly!

Speaking of built-ins: They're everywhere. There are inexplicably "two" closets in Daphne's library/study (one closet, really, with two doors and shelving in the middle so you can't walk through) as well as two coat hook things. In the master bedroom, there is a chest of drawers built into the wall under a space built in for an old-fashioned TV and VCR. In the closet beside that, there is another built-in chest of drawers with a mirror over it. Oh, and the closet doors are mirrored. There are built-in bookshelves in the toilet room of the master bathroom. There is a big walk-in closet with built-in drawers and cabinets and even a shoe rack in the master bathroom. There are tons of shelves in Mal's room, that I believe used to be windows (more on that later), and deep shelves in a corner about which I have no idea. There is a "cedar closet" in that room with a bunch of pegs in addition to the hanging racks.

In the back of the house, there are two sun rooms. They both have lockable doors. One of them will be James' office... and there are hanging racks (like in a closet) there, too... but no closet. Cuckoo. I think those are the last add-ons because the house is almost at the drainage ditch (which Mal will know as "The Creek" after it rains) in the back yard.

The Realtor wrote this in the comments about the house after she showed it to us: "Very awkward property. Several different tiles, flooring, and countertops in every room in the house. No natural lighting in living area which is the center of the house. The additions look like recycled materials were used as well as several materials throughout."

Yeah. She pretty much hated it. She didn't even mention (because it's illegal) that the house across the street is a pit. But the owners latticed off the porch for that reason.

Suffice it to say that this is a very "unique" property, and I think that our unique family is the perfect fit for its oddity, and we will love it!

Now for the "fun" process of qualifying fully for a loan. Ugh. Wish us luck and patience and endurance and all of that!

Looks pretty normal from the street, right?!