Fretwork and Mock Turtles

This is going to be a long one. I haven't gone to ground...I just really needed to get a little distance from many of the things going on before I put it into writing. Hence the reason that this blog post actually began in June, and will likely be posted in somewhere in August.

Outtakes:

Josh --Mommy, sing me the Peparry song.

Me --Wha? Huh?

Josh -- Please sing me the Peparry song.

Me -- I'm sorry honey, I don't know which on that is.You know...it goes Pe-ee-ee-Parree dewayov dahlor -- they sing in when they splash in water

*and finally it dawns on me...he's talking about Godspell's opening scenes -- you'd think that as many times as we've watched that movie I would have bought a clue by now*Ahhhh, Got Ya. 'Pre(-EE-E-)pare Ye the Way of the Lord.'

------------
At a local restaurant, I needed to excuse myself for a moment. As I walked away from the table, Josh called out in a voice that echoed throughout the dining room, "Make sure you use the girls' potty, Mommy!"

------------
(From Josh's last trip at Gramma Marsha's) Mom was with Josh at a store and saw a large Mylar dolphin balloon...and apparently, there must have been a helium leak somewhere, because she got a little silly. She just could not stop herself from exclaiming in delight over the pretty dolphin balloon, and going on and on about how cool it was...Josh just looked at her curiously, and said, "Well, Gee, Gramma...Haven't you ever seen a balloon before?"

------------
(After watching "The Real NCIS" on the Military Channel -- a show that became unintentionally funny because they kept repeating everything that was said in the prior segment....At one point, an investigator found a name on a hotel registry, and afterwards, his "heroic act" was termed "Capturing the Name"...so of course, this conversation happened:)
Jon: "They captured his NAME. Well, I feel safe now."
Me: "You know, the guy was in the courtroom, and saw his NAME in shackles and cuffs, and all he could think was that his NAME had always been a quiet, likeable NAME...that he'd never had any problems with his NAME before...it came to a complete shock that his NAME was involved in something this horrible."
Me:"Eight days after THE NAME was taken into custody, it was shot during an escape attempt."

June:

They had not gone far before they saw the Mock Turtle in the distance, sitting sad and lonely on a little ledge of rock, and, as they came nearer, Alice could hear him sighing as if his heart would break. She pitied him deeply. `What is his sorrow?' she asked the Gryphon, and the Gryphon answered, very nearly in the same words as before,

`It's all his fancy, that: he hasn't got no sorrow, you know. Come on!'

--from ALICE'S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND - LEWIS CARROLL

Josh's first few weeks at preschool have been a bit rough. His first day, my birthday (Happy 34th-Again To Me!)...went well -- well, well-ish...I sat on phone the whole day ready to pounce...suddenly it was time to pick him up. He liked it, they didn't call...he got to hold the turtle...but they made him take a nap...and that didn't win them brownie points. Since then, he's gotten himself absolutely hysterical about going to school (and I quote, “The teachers are bad because they make me lie down for nap time” – even though he doesn't have to actually take a nap...he just has to stay on his cot and be quiet for the others)...the worst part is that he does his freaked-out- Velcro-boy/monkey-on-MY-head routine two mornings of every week, and literally has to be pulled off/peeled off of me as I drop him off. It doesn't help to tell him that Preschool is a special club for little kids...though I've tried hard to sell that one. The little prince of high drama isn't buying it. Once he threw himself down and became a screaming floor rug and the last time, he even ripped his family-poster off of the wall and tried to march out the door with me. Misty and Jen and Jonna (the co-admin and his room teachers) have been amazingly good throughout this, and have shown exceptional patience. Once he's in the routine, once he's playing, it's all good -- he likes the kids, he likes helping and being involved...it's just the getting him there. And the nap time hour. In a few weeks, coinciding with the official start of back-to-school season, Josh will be moved to a new room, with a new teacher and a more structured routine than the previous summer spiel...maybe that will help. (I sure hope so.) Mom keeps piping up in her "I'm not trying to sound like I'm telling you what to do -- but really I'm kind of telling you what to do" voice, trying to make sure that Jon and I know the difference between separation anxiety and or something worse..."If he was really having a rough time, you wouldn't make him go, right?" *Sigh* It's not like he's at the Torquemada School For All Things Sharp and Pointy (Their Motto: "When You Care Enough To Make Them Wear a Hot Iron Vest") ...even though they had lovely brochures, and very reasonable rates. I know the drama is normal, but I can't help being embarrassed when I hear him howling way out in the parking lot :

MOM-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

While I'm certain that the bulk of the drama is actually for my benefit, I can't wait until he gets beyond this stage, and he realizes this is going to be a routine thing . So far, I'm still completely convinced that the school is going to call at any moment, I've been in constant stand-by/on-call mode. Mom, and my brother Dev, are utterly convinced that two days a week from 9:30 - 3:30 is too long for a three-(and a half) year old...but I'm not really buying into that theory, especially as Josh has always been more adaptable than most of the kids I've come across. Besides, we really need to be making up for the lost-playing-with-other-kids time that we haven't been able to offer him before. As it is, he has the demeanor of a little professor...he's already a little too serious, a little too watchful ...I kid you not, the ladies at the school are already commenting on how he likes to take charge of things, and what a big helper he is, and they are trying to find more ways for Josh to take on leadership roles in the class. Leadership roles. At age flippin' three! I find that terribly funny...and just a little sad at the same time. I don't want him to be older than his years at three. I want him to be a silly, squirrely kid and know how to play with other silly squirrely kids. (Although, I suppose it should be counted as a good sign that even at age "flippin' three", he's telling me he already has three girlfriends there. On second thought, no...no, I don't take any comfort in that particular statement at all...)

Of course, if school gives us both a breather from each other from time to time, that can't be a bad thing either. We are always together at home, and he takes me for granted. I am just loud background noise. With this change in Josh's normal routine, my daily (minute-ly?) goal is to just take a breath and force myself the back the drama down. I know I need to rework my strategies with Josh – sometimes, I get the feeling I'm being out manned and outgunned by a three-year old. It would be great if any single tactic would just work (or heck, if any single tactic would even just work more than once), because at this stage, it seems very weird to find that parenthood is a succession of tactics, just moving pieces around the board ...and I suck at chess.

July:

One of the neatest experiences in July was attending the Fourth of July-block party celebration in Jon's hometown. They had a tiny kiddie carnival set up and Josh was delighted to play the games and get umpteen prizes. The people were so darling....there was a mini-golf course, and Josh's favorite thing in the world (next to Harry, of course) – a giant, inflated bouncy castle. For one dollar, Josh got to bounce and bounce and bounce for nearly an hour...and the gentleman in charge would have let him keep going longer, but Josh had to get out and go play at the kiddie games again. Josh was less impressed by the fireworks later that night, though we were far enough away to avoid the louder booms and bangs...but by the time we dragged what was left of our boy home, he was down to thirty-nine pounds of pure snore.

Late July:
Let's go back a bit...After Josh's birth, and because of the words, "Needs Emotional Support" on our exiting paperwork, we received a visit from a county social worker. I was little more than a giant freaking hormone, and though she truly was as charming and as soothing as she possibly could have been, my mental state at the time was "Social Worker makes a trip to see infant = OMG! OMG! OMG! Social Worker TAKES infant AWAY! OMG! OMG! OMG!", and I was absolutely terrified that we would lose Josh after all of the drama of his announcement and arrival. Tim said later that if he had known how worried I was, he would have been here during her visit...and explained that courtesy check-ins were fairly common, especially if there had been a great deal of stress surrounding a birth. " A great deal of stress surrounding a birth..." -- HAH!

The first year was so bizarre...I couldn't tell what feelings were actually mine, and what feelings were actually hormones, and though I knew it was irrational (and I still know it was irrational), I had any number of nightmares that had the same charming social worker showing up on our doorstop and taking Josh away. In fact, just last week, I had a dream that Social Services got involved because I put Josh's hot cocoa in the microwave for only one minute, instead of one-minute and thirty-five seconds. Now, I can laugh at it. Now, I know exactly how absurd it sounds...Now, I can put it in perspective...that first year, year and a half, though...perspective wasn't my strong suit. I was scared out of my head. I was way out of my depth, and I was only too happy to take any advice or help offered...even if it meant going along with advice I didn't like. I've said a lot about trying to get my feet under me in this motherhood gig, and how much I really needed and really appreciated the advice of everyone around us to help us through the tricky spots. Perhaps, I've said too much...because lately, I've been getting so much well-meaning advice that I've become rather cranky about it. I'm trying to keep in mind that they really think they are somehow helping me -- that all is said and done in the name of love and character improvement --, but it still makes me feel a little raw.

*Sigh*

Part of it is that I just haven't felt myself lately...I've been struggling through a rather hefty bout of depression, and I just didn't want to talk about it with anyone. The vast majority of my depression has been directed internally, and what's been directed externally has just been loudness...but it's still put a distance between my husband and son that should never have been there. I was pulling into myself...to the extent that I even shut Jon out for a while ...something that is completely out of character for me. Jon and I don't argue. We don't. We've almost always been in sync with each other...we almost always know each other's motivations and needs without having to say it. Lately, that hasn't been the case...I have been feeling all of this anger and all of this sadness, and it just seems to spin out of me like a daisy wheel. I think I've pinpointed a couple of causes, and I am doing my best to work through it on my own. While I am mulling over the idea of counseling, I haven't made a firm decision about it . . . the lady that has been recommended is supposed to be wonderful, but is also (Dah-Dah-DAHN!!!) another social worker...and old cartoonish fears die hard.

Refocusing has been tricky, because it has been difficult knowing where to start. Others mean well, but they don't understand...they keep telling me my exhaustion is a crutch, and I just need to get over it...or they stare at me with worried eyes, expecting me to just tell them what is going on in my head, when I don't even know what's going on in my head. There seems to be an unspoken rule that depression is "socially acceptable" if it only lasts a short time....If you're bi-polar, that's one thing...your brain's just "out of whack" and that's not your fault...but if you are depressed, well, people seem to feel that there isn't a legitimate reason for it. Oh, sure, you're allowed to be sad or down for a little while, but eventually, you must pull yourself up by your bootstraps, and start singing "Good Ship Lollipop". In my experience, depression doesn't seem to work that way...especially if you are trying to muddle through it on your own. Depression is thick clay-mud that clings to your entire body, grabbing at your feet, making your brain slow and your movements awkward...and the longer it has you in its grip, the harder it is to move on. My life -- my head-- has never been a sitcom where every body's all hunky-dory at the end of thirty minutes, and cracking old jokes over fresh cookies and milk.

One thing that helped was clarifying my view of myself as a mother and an adult in my own right, and explaining to others that as long as I asked for advice on any given matter that I would be happy to take that advice to heart. It was genuinely amazing how just stating this position seemed to help my mood. It took me a while, but I finally am realizing that I'm spending entirely too much energy and losing too much focus trying to appease the people who aren't actually right in front of me. It was a matter of simple entropy. I was trying to strengthen the outer relationships and losing my center. One of the many ironies here is that so many of the same people that have been saying, "trust your instincts, you're a good mom...You don't have to be Donna Reed." are also the same people who seem to be unhappy that I'm not Donna Reed. I'm all too aware that I am not the kind of mom they think I should be and that my perspectives on things some parents take for granted are markedly different, but I'm still a good mom. I love him. I would do anything to help him be happy and healthy and safe...I live for his laugh. It's just that in the last several months while I've been trying to take care of him, I just let ME drift off in the process.


What has genuinely been wonderful is that I started to work on a "Non-Mommy-Related" project...namely, I have been getting a compilation of some of my better stories and poems together to publish them. I had hoped to have a manuscript of eighty poems ready by Christmas, as that seems to be the requirement for many of the publishing houses ...however, with the economy lately, many of the known publishers aren't interested in untried writers, and want to hedge their bets with big name authors. Even so, I think we may have hit on a reasonable plan that will have my name on a real book in my real grubby, little hands sometime in the near future. It's improved my mood drastically...and I've been feeling much more optimistic than I had been. I think I just needed to feel like I was accomplishing something for myself at the end of the day. While I've been tweaking my proof and carrying it around like it was my old stuffed bunny – I've also been working more with the writing group, and we are actually putting together three anthologies of our work...(I'm in one, and am helping to edit another)... It has just felt so good to do something that doesn't feel like it fits into the usual scheme of things, and I didn't realize until recently how much I truly need that. I had slipped into a mindset that had me viewing myself less as a real and capable person in my own right, and more as, well, “Mommy-Wallpaper”. At this point, I don't even care if we go further on the publishing process, but I can't help thinking how cool it would be...even if it only made a very small ripple in my very small pond.

Ah, gang. This parenting gig never ceases to be a trip. I know from firsthand experience how easy it is to let your imagination run away with you, and I know that it can take some serious effort to be get back on track sometimes, but I also know that some of us don't help the situation as much as we would like to. There isn't a parent out there that doesn't keep questioning their choices, trying to to channel their "inner-John Woo" to view each interaction from dozens of angles...and even if we don't torpedo ourselves, there are so many others in the world all too happy to sink us anyway. Friends and family may say all the wrong words for all of the right reasons...Web-mommies lie in wait, read to go all pirahna on the posterior of some innocent questioner...Customers recoil at the shrieks and the careening of a misbehaving child in a restaurant or at a store -- we are torn between glaring the parents down, or wanting to throw a tantrum ourselves and stomp out, showing all the world our displeasure. It isn't that I don't know there are people out there that WOULD help...It's that, sometimes, they way they choose to be helpful isn't actually helpful...and everyone of us gets caught up in the judgement of it all, rather than the reality... I can't tell you how many times I used to say (in those pre-parenting days), "Oh, there's no way in hell I'd let a kid get away with that!" Now, with 24/7 days of preschooler psych under my belt, I can't tell you how many times I have let my kid get away with "that", because now I know why he's doing it, and I can tell if he's acting out of genuine malice, or out of a combination of exhaustion and overstimulation. One situation needs correction...the other needs removal to a quiet place...and sometimes, neither remedy is an available option immediately. That's life. More specifically, that's my son...that's my reaction...that's my life. While I can still feel my own narrow-eyed glare coming on when I listen to some berserker child in public (even when it's my own), I'm really trying to make it my goal to ascertain what is actually happening. I confess, I suck at viewing the world through the eyes of a little person. I've always been more used to talking to adults than kids...and it wouldn't be a stretch to say that I kind of view a kid's brain as an unknown alien landscape. While I have often stumbled over my words, I have never really had any difficulty conveying my meaning to my "listening audience"... While I have been known to have a flash-paper temper (a flash of anger, then gone quickly), I have also had a lot of years to figure out other ways to cope with that...and I can also remember to back off and try a different option...Poor Josh starts out flash-paper, and then just can't seem to find that off switch, and then he just gets caught up in it.


The best advice I've ever been given was the advice to trust myself and what I was bringing to the table...the second best advice was I've ever had was not to forget myself in the process. My latest addiction is the SUPERNANNY show...and some of her advice really has been helpful with Josh...as long as I remember to put it into play.


Arrrggggghhh. And so I'm progressing...two steps forward, two steps back...like I'm a beginner in a dance class...hopefully, I'll be stepping on fewer toes soon...perhaps, I'll even stop stepping on my own.

August:

A couple of big things have been happening in our neck of the woods. Josh's Uncle (And Jon's "little" brother) Torey has departed "these here" environs for parts North...In one of the bravest things I've ever known him to do, he has taken up residence in a college dorm somewhere in the wilds of Maine. This is all the more impressive when you consider that this is the first time he's ever really left home. We wish him all of the best...but we do ask that when he does get eaten by a moose, that someone will be kind enough to send us a picture of it. (Jon and I have decided that no matter how Torey eventually shuffles off this mortal coil, that we will have "Eaten by a Moose" carved on his headstone. This means that even if he saves the lives of three Presidents and a thousand starving refugees, invents the cure to the common cold, does great things that change the face of the entire universe, the last words commemorating his life will still be "Eaten by a Moose".

Larry has been up from dawn to well-past-dusk, trekking around on his little bulldozer, leveling parts of the hill across the street for his new trailer and his new trailer's driveway. I had never seen a modular installed, and was convinced for a time that both of the rigs involved would simply roll over, down the hill -- but the delivery folks were on the ball. While they've had to halt production from time to time, in order to get a few other houses in the works before all of these last storms rolled though. Today, only a little over a week from the day the two parts of his house drove up the drive, Larry should get the keys to his new home. So many happy congrads to him!

As I said, lots to cover, so, thanks for waiting.