Monday, May 31, 2010

More collateral divorce damage.

Ex's mother is not well. She fell at her home last week and was unconscious and alone for a day before her friend found her. She's in the hospital now but has decided to be go into hospice as opposed to nursing care. I admire her courage but I feel sad.
I haven't called or written her since ex left. She's the kindest, most repressed woman you'd ever meet and it's hard to imagine being angry with her but ex was and, by extension, I was, too because so many of the things ex struggled with he inherited from her. I know it's not very nice that we held her responsible. What can I say? We both have a ways to go still. 
Ack! It's more divorce fallout -- what do you do with your ex family members? I lost my former sister-in-law in ex's brother's divorce. I remember wanting to keep her and let the brother go. These are not choices we get to make.
The boys are in Colorado with ex and his gf to say goodbye to their grandma. It's hard not to feel that I should be there but that's not my place anymore. I will call ex mother-in-law this week because I think that would be the right thing to do. I don't know what I'm going to say yet. I hope something comes to me.

Friday, May 28, 2010

Fingers crossed.

I've applied for two jobs today; one I'd really, really like to be considered for. I hope it's meant to be. My spiritual life has been on hiatus for a week or two. I let myself get sucked into other people's lives and dramas and it's time to refocus.
As for the rainy weather in California...I'm glad it doesn't feel like summer because I am not ready for having the boys home full-time yet. No, I'm not looking forward to that. Not at all. The only benefit of being unemployed and broke is the six-hour block of alone time I have when the boys are at school. What's left when that's gone? When will I write?
Oh, speaking of writing. I haven't been writing anything new but I've been revising. I'm sending a story out next week. Fingers crossed about that, too. It feels good to be back in the fiction saddle.
I had several decent conversations with ex this week. His mother is in the hospital -- not good. I suppose we are at that age when our parents begin failing. (Well, everybody else but me since my parents are hearty, hale and young.) I still find ex extremely amusing and I like and miss talking to him. So we chat about his mom, joke about the kids and all of a sudden he stops -- it's like he realizes we've crossed a boundary or something or we've gotten too comfortable and he says he has to go. It's happened twice this week.
I have always had a mental connection with ex. He was my best friend for a very long time. We met via writing and -- I've said this before -- I loved him before I ever met him. It's the physical connection that was always lacking. This is the danger of meeting via ads or the internet -- you can't know if you have compatible spit/chemistry until you actually collide. If sex were not an issue, I'd have gladly spent all my days with ex. And then there's Big Guns, where it's all chemistry. It's kind of frightening to realize that's the kind of guy who floats my boat. Maybe, as somebody suggested, there is a combination of the two out there. I sound as if I'm shopping again. F.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

If, then thinking.

I've been doing a lot of this lately. If I had a job, then I'd feel secure. If I won the lottery, then I'd have no worries. If I were still married, then -- what? -- I'd not have to think about health care. I have to remind myself that this is it -- today is the day I've been given. It reminds me again of the saying on D's refrigerator which I've put on mine: Accept that life is full of challenges and choose to be happy anyway.

This moment right now is the gift. Poof! It's already gone. See how fast it goes? Job, marriage, money --- even with all that, I'd still be me and still be riddled with worry and ennui and fear. If I'd just accept that wherever I go (and whoever I'm not married to) there I am, then I'll be OK. (Ha ha. That's a little joke.) Seriously folks, embrace the now. I'm off to do a gratitude list.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

I do not eat out anymore.

When I was the drinking half of a nuclear family, eating out at restaurants was a regularly scheduled event. Not every 6-month-tooth-cleaning regular, but twice-a-week regular. What does that cost? Something like $1000 a month? That's a lot of new underwear. 

I've eaten out maybe ten times since I separated eight months ago. (It helps that Big Guns, former bodybuilder, still doesn't eat like a normal person, i.e. three squares, the biggest at dinner. He has eight to twelve -- I can't even call them meals -- protein injections a day.)

This is a paradigm shift, huge, like if Arizona started offering free health care to immigrants or something. Of all the moms who love not cooking and being served and flirting with the wait staff (male or female), I loved it the most. The more expensive and twee the dishes, the better. I  can't enjoy it anymore knowing that the cost of one meal out could feed my family for a week, two if we're having sushi. It's proof that people change!

Monday, May 17, 2010

The novelty has worn off.

At first I absolutely loved it when my boys spent time with their dad. I didn't have to cook or watch South Park. I could eat ice cream for dinner. This weekend was different. I really missed them and I don't even like them all that much. I had to think up some excuse to call on Sunday just to hear their voices. It's partially hormonal but I still wish my family were intact and whole. Loveless marriage be damned -- kids need two parents sharing all their moments together as a family. Oh well. Our reunion went like this:
Me: "Hi boys. How was your weekend?"
Q: "Good. What's for dinner?"
Mario: "Can I get a hamster?"

Thursday, May 13, 2010

My addict is showing. (Or shopping.)

It's my AA birthday; I have two years today. The second year went by much faster than the first. Big Guns brought me flowers last night and I brought him grief. Most of the time I like his steely ways and how he will stand up for himself, unlike cream-puff ex who always gave in which made me feel momentarily victorious but ultimately guilty.

I've been feeling especially overwhelmed recently -- Big Gun's ma's death, food poisoning, and my youngest son's first birthday post divorce. (I'll call him Mario after his favorite video game character since I'm not to call him baby anymore.) So this week I just wanted Big Guns to be soft and not to ask anything of me. Except Tuesday he asked if I'd help him prepare dinner for a meeting and I didn't quite say no -- I don't have the boundary thing down yet -- but I did throw out a few veiled blocks that any co-dependent person would have picked up on immediately. Big Guns isn't co-dependent and doesn't do subtle. I made the meatloaf. How have I been coping? Spending money.

I've been pretty good with the budget for the last eight months -- I haven't met it but I've come close. That's all gone to hell. I guess it started with my new laptop, followed by clothes for the boys and a few things for Big Gun's pathetically decorated condo (somehow it doesn't count if I'm spending on others), a $400 purse that I got at TJ Maxx for $130 (which is saving, really; not spending), and then I started in on the new underwear. (What is it with me and underwear? It's like the last sign that I'm in a spending relapse.) Then I ordered a TV with my United miles and it was too small so I gave it to my big boy and bought another TV and I don't even watch TV. We don't even have cable.

I'm like a hemophiliac with money; once I start with the bloodletting I can't stop. Who am I kidding? That's not hemophilia that's addiction.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Movie review: Iron Man 2

I saw this with Big Guns and the youngest one. (I've been told not to call him "my baby" anymore; not just by him but by grown ups. Something about infantilizing him.)

OK, the movie. I gotta say the people at Marvel comics are geniuses at creating complex, flawed characters. Is there any other worthy kind of character to write about? I think not. Their characters are so good, they are hard for Hollywood to screw up. Add some fabulous special effects,  cameos of famous people such as Stanley Lee (noticed by my older son) and Larry Ellison, snarky dialogue, hot chicks, and great fight scenes and there you have it -- Iron Man 2.

The Marvel character: Tony Stark, extreme narcissist, genius physicist, filthy with hubris but who can't figure out how to save his own life -- literally and figuratively. He's not all good, not all bad. Played by Robert Downey Jr., a Phoenix figure who did figure out how to save his life.

The plot: Tony has this wicked cool technology that he feels is his alone because he had it first, like a two-year old with a toy or Bill Gates with an operating system. It gets into the wrong hands -- explosions happen, people fight, Tony has to figure some shit out with his dead dad. The industrial military complex is mostly evil and politicians are stupid. (That part's a little cliche.) There is a big scene at the end where lots of things get blown up at an Expo in Manhattan but Tony, his sidekick and his girlfriend manage to live. There is no depiction or mention of any civilians dying because that would have messed with the humorous mojo. Or maybe it was just a miracle?

I wouldn't recommend paying full price to see this movie. Hit a matinee so you don't feel too ripped off. You should not be in a contemplative, thoughtful or cynical mood. Put your skeptic aside and be prepared for a fun, wild romp with great special effects. Scarlett Johansson in kick-ass shape and skin-tight clothes is another reason to shell out $10.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Peace on the bridge. Or not.

I was driving over the Golden Gate Bridge with the boys today. I always pay special attention to the pedestrians thinking I'll be able to spot a potential jumper and save his or her life. Today, I saw a group of marchers with peace signs and placards that declared "peace not war." I honked and waved. I'm all for peace and freedom. Heck yeah! Micro seconds later I realized the hypocrisy of this when moments earlier I was not having peaceful feelings toward ex. How can I be pro-peace when I can't even promote peace in my own backyard? To understand how people in the Middle East can hold resentments for epic lengths of time and why they have such a hard time getting along, just get divorced.

DVD review: An Education

The critics loved this movie. It's about Jenny (Carey Mulligan), a smart, pretty girl in 1960s London who is working hard in school to please her father and get into Oxford and whose plans get derailed when she is seduced by an older Jewish con man, David (Peter Sarsgaard). Nowadays, we call men like him "players." He's got game and not only has Jenny wrapped around his little finger but her parents, as well.
How can I critique this without giving away the story? It's not The Talented Mr. Ripley, which I thought was genius and difficult to watch. David is icky and flawed but I felt little sympathy or distaste even for him or Jenny for that matter. I think it's because I didn't feel there was a lot at stake. Jenny herself states that even with a degree from Oxford she'd still end up in a dead-end teaching job so why try? When she does make a poor choice, she suffers no real consequences. Her dad doesn't hang himself or disown her. Her mother doesn't hit the bottle. Jenny isn't ostracized. The worst that happens is she doesn't get to return to the same school that was stifling her but gets tutored by the only teacher she liked. It's all too perfect, really, and I find perfection to be extremely irritating. Carey Mulligan, however, is cute and stunning at the same time. The kind of actress my friend Susanne says is loved by the camera. On an unrelated side note, in real life Peter Sarsgaard is married to Maggie Gyllenhall, another actress the camera loves. She is the sister of Jake Gyllenhall, an actor I'd love and who is single now after being dumped by Reese Witherspoon, an actress with a funny mouth. (Name the place, Jake; I'll be there.)
Should you rent An Education? Yes. It's not the best but better than most and the makeup is awesome.

Saturday, May 8, 2010

Am I crazy or is this not right?

In grilling, I mean asking, my son about his birthday plans, he mentioned that he talked it over with his dad in therapy.
"Um, say that again? Your dad's been going to your therapy sessions?" I believe at this point my hair went curly again.
"I said it would be OK. If he wanted to." Baby notices my hair and tries to cover his tracks.
"It's fine," I lie and run from the room because I wear my emotions like a Lady Gaga headpiece.
The only thing I know about boundaries is in the 257 pages I've digested in the boundary book but this feels like a violation to me. Long ago ex and I decided that these sessions are our baby's personal time and that we wouldn't even asked him what was discussed in the Dr.'s office. Oh, and we split the fee. It seems or it feels like I'm sharing in paying for ex to work on his relationship with our son. I feel pissy.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

This week coulda been a rung in Dante's inferno

Big Guns' mother died Sunday night after four days in the hospital. She didn't want any unnecessary interventions to keep her alive but if one is in the hospital, and even if the hospital agrees, they are simply unable to stand by and do nothing. I was there for the last 48 hours. It was a lot like parenting -- long, slow hours watching and waiting punctuated by moments of extreme stress.

Dying can be painful and there were times when her condition would change and she'd clearly be suffering and the doctors and sons and father and caregivers would go into the hallway to discuss what to do and leave me alone with her. Sitting there holding her hand, I was afraid that's when she'd choose to go but I also took this opportunity to tell her to go. It could have been the oxygen mask or the pain, but she looked tense and afraid. I told her her room was full of angels and probably fairies since she was that side of goofy and loved flowers and the outdoors -- she was a PE teacher.

Hospital protocol is to pharmaceutically or physically get the patient to an acceptable place of peace and serenity to make the passing easier for her and the rest of us. None of us wants to be reminded that it hurts to die. Sunday afternoon, the doctors removed the mask that was forcing oxygen into her, disconnected her monitors which we were all glued to like reality TV, and finally administered a morphine drip. I don't know why they waited so long. I think there was some desire to have her present for her family. They kept asking her to open her eyes and look at them.

Without the machines the room was quiet and peaceful. It was a beautiful day out and her room looked out onto maple trees, asparagus ferns and the fountain at the entrance where ducks have been bathing since my sister was born 43 years ago. We spent four hours with her at like that. I left at 8 to go home and feed my cats and she died at 9:05 as I was looking for unpaid parking in front of the hospital. It was a fine and proper passing. We left the hospital two hours later after wrapping up details and Big Gun's was texting his 900 friends, not the original texts to notify, but thanking people for their responses. For some reason, this blew something in me and I actually fought with him hours after he lost his mother. Sometimes I am unsuited to be around other humans, like one of those dogs they have to quarantine at the pound.

Anyway, the next morning we both woke up feeling crummy in the tummy, thinking it was the stress and lack of sleep. In reality, it was the post-midnight dinner at Denny's. We both spent the next two days in our respective beds and bathrooms. I felt I deserved it for being so mean and for eating at Denny's; I don't know why Big Guns got it though.

My baby is 12 today -- happy birthday and happy cinco de mayo! I did manage to drag myself out to pick up supplies yesterday evening although he's with his dad tonight and I wasn't invited to the birthday dinner. They are celebrating with the new gf and her son. (Ouch. F. Tear break.)

The funeral is tomorrow. I can't wait for this week to be done and to get my health and energy back. Except it's not over. I realize that as I get over the hump of the grief process, Big Guns is now starting a new one. He's in the denial phase. Several times driving home from the hospital and getting ready for bed he said, "Did you know my mother died?" It can't be compared to divorce but I remember when ex first told me he wanted to leave I was walking down University Ave. in Palo Alto and felt the urge to tell every person I passed, "I'm getting divorced," as if it needed to be said aloud to become real.