clickmom

only somewhat off putting

I know don't often tell sweet stories about the husband here. To be honest it's from lack of material. However, there was a thing, and it was very sweet so I figured I'd go ahead and share on the slim chance that I'm dead and my kids are looking through these pages because they aren't about to pay typepad to keep this blog alive after my demise and are just browsing through to see if I've humiliated them in writing somehow and need to talk about it with a therapist. Just kidding. I'm perfect. 

So, on Monday I actually went for a little part time job interview. It's so local I could walk to work in a fix and also at a place that I would not mind getting to be a part of. The position as they advertised it was for an educational coordinator and as an ex- NYC public school teacher and everything else I have done with my life (creating that art history program for the elementary school in stepford, and getting my 2nd Master degree at age 50 in order to teach college) I went into it knowing I was probably a bit over qualified. But I didn't announce that or anything. If anything I with held information because I didn't want to jinx the interview by being too enthusiastic about it. 

Anyways.... I had the interview (I thought it went very well) and then ran around doing a few errands when my phone rang and it was the husband who said "So????" I asked "So, what?" And he said "SO, did they offer you the job on the spot?" And I told him that I was the 5th of 10 people they were interviewing and they were going to decide next week because thats what they told me. And the husband, who is generally neutral no matter what, got a wee bit irritated and he could not believe that they'd meet me and then go on and interview other people. He thought for sure I'd get the offer on the spot. It was so ..... sweet. I mean, who knew he thought so highly of me? Not I. And that (sweet) is a word folks do not use about the husband. Let me tell you. Probably not since he became verbal has anyone used sweet to describe him.  But his reaction was sweet, so I'm going to give it to him, and let you, my viewing public of 1, and my future orphaned children know that one day in 2019 their dad was incredibly sweet and their mom recognized it, even though she couldn't manage say so at the time because it was completely out of character and somewhat off putting. 

I better get the freaking job offer. 

Everything disappoints.

I just voted. The kids from the elementary school were having a bake sale. I bought what I thought was a rice crispy treat. The little bastards made it out of lucky charms. My disappointment is infinite. Also, that’s heresy.

Sent from my iPhone

gas lit

Sometimes, I just....  I just  ..... I just don't understand what I am living through (railing against) here.

Background: I hate war movies- all of them across the board- forever. I hated them long before I even knew I hated them. I don't watch them, I don't discuss them, I can count on the fingers of someone's industrial accident surviving hand how many I have voluntarily seen and I guarantee it was because I wanted to spend time with my kids. On top of already hating war movies I have been obnoxiously vocal about my growing distaste for all white male casted movies. When I see movies where the women are treated as a decorative afterthought grrrrrrrrr......

So, the other night the husband puts on Cain Mutiny, and I'm not sure if he has left that channel on intentionally, though it seems as if it might have been intentional since the movie was just beginning.But with a big smile on his face he turns to me and says "I put on Cain Mutiny,!" so I try to give him a look, during which I look at him hard enough for him to turn around again and say with another smile on his face "I put this on for you, and me."  I'm gob smacked. I sit in silence waiting for him to indicate in any way possible that this has all been a joke. Nope. He genuinely thought this movie choice was a thoughtful idea.

Then, the other night (a few nights later) the husband and I start to binge watch a Netflix show. The gist is that a burned out, bitter guy goes to a spa after his co-worker (who has been on fire lately) recommends it for him. The guy doesn't know that the spa is actually cloning him, and replacing his burned out self with the clone who has all of his memories implanted with none of the despair of life's burdens. Now the clone can be an optimal version of who the original could have been. In this case, however, the original guy doesn't die like he was supposed to, but revives in a shallow grave and makes his way home where the clone has already and unknowingly (because he doesn't know he is a clone) replaced him. So, there is a big dilemma, there are two versions of the guy, each who wants to participate in the life the original man created except one is beaten down and the other one is pretty much too enthusiastic and unburdened to believe.

 

On my end, the husband gets completely confused because the show switches from the point of view of the original guy to the point of view of the clone (same actor) and the husband can't tell them apart (which is also interesting since the original guy wears over sized wrinkled sweats and looks he crawled out of the bed after a 5 day bout of stomach flu and the clone looks like he has been working out, has a killer skin routine, never slept better and has a personal shopper) despite the fact that I keep announcing THIS IS THE CLONE  or THIS IS THE ORIGINAL.  After about 6 episodes, I am all deep into the concept of having a clone and I wonder out loud...... I WONDER WHAT I WOULD DO IF I HAD AN OPTIMAL VERSION OF ME TO TAKE MY PLACE, I MEAN, WOULD THE REAL ME RISE TO THE OCCASION AND DO ALL THE THINGS I THINK I SHOULD BE DOING. The husband shrugs and then casually tosses out this mind blower.  "I AM THE OPTIMAL VERSION OF ME."

Holy crickets.

Crickets.

And more crickets.

Either he was completely serious, has the best dead pan face ever, or is legitimately insane.

 

Smiling

I woke up so happy this morning. I’ve been having this reoccurring dream that somebody I know refused to talk to me and I have no idea why. Just now I dreamed that I was walking with a third person and the woman who wouldn’t talk to me saw us and walked away. The third person went to her and I overheard the woman who wouldn’t talk to me tell the third person to stay away from me because I was mean. In my dream I was so relieved that the reason was not legitimate that I just started to walk towards my destination and smile. I was so relieved. I was smiling and laughing in my dream and then I woke up with a big smile on my face.
Sent from my iPhone

WE

Lately the husband has a "new thing" and his "new thing" is using the word WE.  It gets under my skin like nobody's business.  He'll turn to me, just at the moment when I'm looking at him filled with anger and resentment because of everything, and he'll say Should WE go to the gym today? or even a more general WE should do something today. But the worst thing he says/does is when he uses WE instead of YOU. An example of that would be What are WE going to make for dinner tonight? And I just see red every time, mostly because 1. he who can't walk any distance at all literally can't do anything outside of movies and restaurant eating 2. he can't walk any distance won't accept help in the form of a wheelchair or even walker with a sitting bench and 3. it's been like for freaking ever since I have walked in the woods with sweet pea and my camera and those are really 3 of the maybe 5 things I actually want to do- I'm dying of frustration every second of every day. I don't want to be a WE with anyone, let alone someone who has the grim reaper walking two steps behind him.

I completely resent (everything lately, but this one thing in particular) him infringing on my gym experience. When I sit around and try to coax myself back into being a gym rat (like I was in stepford) the concept of dragging my disabled demented husband along for the experience....... Sorry. I know how mean it sounds but I am being real here. It spoils it for me. and not in a less satisfying way, it turns it into a fragrant rotting corpse of an idea.

In my defense, historically I have always said bitchy sounding things which weren't actually bitchy but more expressing my innate need for alone time. I used to say things like He's not allowed to retire. He can get a job he likes better but I don't want him lying around the house staring at me all day. And hence: I have been living something worse than my own personal nightmare for exactly FOUR years now. Because in the scenario where I was dreading his retirement he was actually able bodied and of sound mind. 

And when I am wondering if I'm just a bitch or if it's personal against the husband I have to admit that I might just be a bitch. Even if I imagine myself with someone is passionate about all of the things I am passionate about (photography and the gym) I wouldn't want to share that with a spouse. I think I might just not be cut out for that kind of marriage. I see people walking in the woods together, some of whom show up together every single day and I know in my heart that I'd get all claustrophobic if that was my relationship.

I have asked him not to phrase things that WE way, but let's be honest, he was incapable of respecting a request like that since the day I met him. He's not going to start now. Today he asked me what WE might do today and I reminded him of my WE issue and then I told him "I'd like to buy a camper, throw my important stuff in it and take off indefinitely." because that is my mean/angry/overwhelmed and under appreciated truth. That is the truth of someone who put her own essence on the back burner to be the kind of mother I wanted to be, always thinking my time to reclaim my own sense of self and worth would come again and when it was about to come again the rug was ripped out under me with such a swift force that I actually remained standing and continued to carry on while wondering what the heck had happened. A day doesn't pass that I am not thinking "I wish I could cut ties with this place, this house, this job of taking care of everyone but me, and go on the run so I can figure out what kind of life I want to have for me." and you know what Mr. Can't Walk / I Have A Handicap Sticker said to my cry for help / inexcusably cruel answer / bitch reply answer?  

He said "I'm good with that. I'd do that." 

Are you speechless?

Because I was momentarily speechless.

And you know, I talk so much (without thinking even!) that it is rare for me to be speechless. 

And then in my mind I pictured him falling while trying to step into a camper and I wanted to ask him if he was out of his mind imaging he could even maneuver in and out of a camper, but I kept that inside and had to tell him that I was going to run away from home alone.

And he kind of nodded, and said "Oh. Okay."  I know he has no idea that this cauldron of everything bad is simmering away right under the surface of me. Then he fell asleep in the chair in front of the TV. So I took a nap I didn't particularly need on the couch.

 

Birthday week

It’s sweet Pea’s birthday week. (Technically the birthday I assigned her is on Wednesday) but Evan’s girlfriend came by with some birthday treats for sweet pea and as you can see sweet pea went bonkers for them.

I’m happy and sad about her birthday. For one thing she is 5 now (on Wednesday) and I just hate hate hate that such an all around excellent dog such as sweet pea is going to move into her later years. Why can’t the fantastic dogs live twice as long? I don’t want her to get old. I want her to stay the same.

Secondly, when we got sweet pea and counted back 11 weeks it turned out that the day was the same day as the day my dear old friend Bob died. I can’t believe Bob has been gone for 5 years. Would you believe I still think about calling him? For 10 years before he died I’d always call him when I was on a long drive. (Needed at least an hour!) and when I’m in the car I still have that moment when I think to myself it’s an opportunity to chat with Bob before I remember. It’s a little stab to the heart every time.


I’m still out of commission with my ankle pain. The physical therapist told me the MRI showed more than just the tendon tear. It also showed plantar fasciitis and the Achilles tendinitis. I asked him if it could have been worse and he told me he once had a patient who had broken every bone in her foot. I conceded.

But then I remembered how when I broke my wrist the first time and I was 11.3 weeks into my 12 weeks of being casted and how someone’s dog jumped onto my lap and twisted my wrist around causing me immense pain and I called the orthopedist crying and he said to come right in. Then he told me the good news was that my bone was healed but that now I had a pulled something which probably hurt more. I didn’t relay that story to the physical therapist.  

Anyways, Evan’s girlfriend walked sweet pea for the first few weeks but then a dog park friend offered to take her and I’ve been driving over to the dog park and she has been taking sweet pea and I am so heart warmingly touched you wouldn’t believe it because the one who is supporting me the most here isn’t even the dog park friend I’ve helped out in the past or even the one who necessarily said she’d help from the beginning. She’s not even the dog park friend I’d consider myself being closest to. She’s just being a great person. This seems so strange to say, but I am realizing that in my immature head I kind of thought I had to put myself out there first for someone to come through for me. I really don’t keep score, I just think that the way I’ve been seeing life is by always helping others first to secure my spot as worthy of helping back. And this woman, just stepped up without that pre-investment from me. It’s been eye opening. If I were in therapy I’d be discussing my worthiness issues.

Sent from my iPhone

reason

My stomach is messed up. Ive been cleansing for about a week. It's still messed up. I'm legit worried. Will try to get to the good 'ol stepford chiropractor for a diagnosis- then to back it up with an MD. He's so good at diagnosing. I hope I didn't burn a hole in it the day I took 4 Aleve because I had no other choice that day. Either I got rid of the pain I was in or I got rid of myself, which is something a mother of 3 really cannot consider.  I am worried about growing old with this back of mine. It's not likely to get easier. Every muscle in my torso was seizing up so bad I could feel the hardness of my seizing pieces happening through my skin.

Its been three weeks now and I am still in too much pain with my tendon tear. Went to see a physical therapist tuesday for an evaluation and he made me point and flex and twist to each side.  Then he made me repeat each movement again while he resisted with his hand to see if I was weak. Now the area where the tear is is on fire. Its been almost constant burning pain for 2 solid days now. It's the thing I am feeling as I drift off to sleep and the feeling that wakes me up in the morning. Insert four letter word exclamation!!

I can't believe September is almost over. Time is flying by. I know that happens when you're old but I also think it's happening because I am existing in this numb state where I just pace myself going hour by hour or meal by meal. I remember when I went to visit my mother with baby Matt and she would start worrying about lunch as soon as we cleared the breakfast dishes and worrying about dinner as soon as we finished lunch. I thought her life was so shallow. But now that is how I am living. (With less worry about the actual food though...) Eat meal is a marker I need to get through so I can make it to the next one and then bed. Wake up, see if today is the day the ax falls on the husband and if he is still with us I start again. Eat, eat, eat, bed. Check to see if he's breathing. Eat, eat eat, bed. Check again.

All I really want is a job. And the good feeling of having some salary. And a work family, no matter how dysfunctional. But really, a concrete undeniable reason why I have to get up and out of bed every day.

spirit

So. Josh has been gone for 11 days. Evan left yesterday. 

So.  The empty nest thing.  

Sucks.

I just feel so lost without being able to wonder what my kids are doing upstairs as they hole away in their own rooms and ignore me, except they are in my house so my mother heart can rest 80% easy. Because let's be honest. I don't trust them to make good decisions.  Maybe when they're 30.

Or maybe when Matt comes to his senses and asks for my forgiveness for being an asshole. Yup. I said it. Matt, of late, has been my actual obsessive worrier nightmare come true child.  When I was pregnant with Matt I prayed and prayed that he'd be a boy because my nightmare was having the same relationship with my own daughter that my mom had with me. I thought that boys were much easier on their mothers and I could avoid giving life to someone who might feel that way about me by having only boys and by "feel that way" I mean... 

I did not respect my mother.

And I thought that was the worst possible way a daughter could feel about her mother and now fast forward 26+ years and Matt, who has told me he's trans, but has not had the respect for me to have an actual discussion about what exactly that means, has not spoken to me for 2 months. So, maybe having a daughter is the worst thing that could ever happen to me. I don't know. This might kill me. Maybe now I have a daughter and she does not respect me, so I was right. 

I cry every day.

And let's be honest. My life is fracking hellish right now. The husband is living this non-life of sleeping in bed all of the time, weird hours, and sitting in front of the television sleeping and eating when he's not in bed while I try to orbit around him close enough to be there when he needs me but far enough away so that I don't get sucked into his tragic existence. But, this life is not good enough. It's not even close to good enough at all. 

I mean, maybe if the husband and I had been passionately in love up until the moment he became a non-living living person I would feel different, but let's be honest. I married someone who feels about everyone the way I felt about my mother and being married to someone who doesn't respect you wears thin after a while and now I have to orbit around someone who not only never respected me but is incapable of ever respecting me. Not that I ever expected him to change, it's just that I guess I thought I'd be able to live independently of his lack of respect and I can tell you with 100% certainty that I never for one second imagined ending up being his caretaker.

Lately all these people keep telling me how caregivers end up sick themselves from all of the stress and I don't know who to tell them that silence from Matt is 100 times worse than watching the husband disintegrate.

But the two things together, along with grieving (because I am GRIEVING over here) the whole empty nest thing is quite unbearable.  I want to type it's too much to handle, but you know I am going to handle it. What choice do I have? I just better not end up with some crazy disease just when I am free to reclaim my own life.

I just cry a lot. 

I've been sad-stress-eating so much this summer that my double chin is a triple chin and my breasts (when holstered) are so damned high on my body due to extra chest padding that they almost connect with my third chin. I am a living weeble. I need to calm (the f*ck) down, eat healthy food and figure out how to live in this new configuration with no kids in my house while watching the husband lose. 

He is losing everything it means to be a person. Losing his will to live. Losing the ability to feel joy. Even losing the ability to feel sorrow. What ever spirit the man (who had no respect) used to have has faded away. 

I can't let my spirit go down with his. I can't let my spirit go down with all of this.

 

I’m f*cking hilarious

First let me give you some background. I like the trash TLC’s show called 90 day fiancé and on that show one of the dysfunctional parents of one of the dysfunctional Americans gave him a box with a lock of her hair in it before he headed off to Brazil to meet his future spouse/victim. It was so gross. Josh just happened to see that tiny portion of the show with me and I said I’m going to do that to you one day.

Flash forward to you last week when I had to bring Josh to his new college for his freshman year and I dug out a little gold box lined it with some tissue and put a lock of my hair in it. I tucked the box in my purse for the next day.

For the whole drive over to Josh’s college I thought of that little box of hair every time I felt like crying. It worked like magic. I managed not to weep the entire 2 1/2 hour drive.

After we made Josh’s bed and then unpacked his bags we had to head out of the room for some college run programs and I knew it was probably the right time to give Josh the box. I asked Josh‘s roommate to make a little video of something and this is a few stills I took off the video. (They’re in reverse order for some reason)

Really the best part is Josh asking me “Is this your ... hair? It’s been five days and I still chuckle to myself every time I think about this.

From now on my new catchphrase is going to be… I’m f*cking hilarious.

Sent from my iPhone

Flowers for me

Yesterday I ran into the grocery store to grab a few things. When checking out the cashier, a young man, asked me HOW ARE YOU DOING TODAY? I told him (in a friendly way) OH, I’M NOT HAVING THE BEST DAY. This is where the dude will learn his lesson. Because as those words came out of my mouth I could feel my lip start to shake and my eyes begin to mist. Instead of saying I’M SORRY and scanning the rest of my order in awkward silence he asked me WHAT’S HAPPENING? And then, like a decent human being, he looked right into my eyes forcing me to verbalize my source of agony. First the tears just started to silently flow (and flow and flow) and then I managed to choke out the words. MY YOUNGEST KID IS GOING TO COLLEGE ON THURSDAY.

Then the person behind me in line pushed her cart to a different cashier.

Through my tears I tried to calm the panic in the store cashier who had unknowingly opened the flood gates of my tears. I told him that raising an independent child I had always been the goal and I was just going to miss my kid. I told him I knew I’d be fine.

There was a flower display right next to his register and he said “I’d like to give you a flower” I told him I was fine but he insisted so I looked up and saw some purple orchids and I said I LIKE PURPLE. He ran over and selected a beautiful purple orchid and came back and put it in my basket.

And that’s how I got a free orchid.

Sent from my iPhone