TheMommyBlog

Saturday, September 06, 2008 Bad Mood Dude

So you know how I helped found a nonprofit that would change the way the sector viewed and used grantmaking software forever? No? Well, I did. And we did an awesome job on the preliminary studies and reports. And then funding ran out. And suddenly it was harder to secure grants to continue the work. Foundations generally have all their yearly grant money committed or as good as committed by the end of the summer, so you gotta act fast and strike early.

So, when we ran out of money, I waited. I hoped. I pitched. I had faith. I ran out of money, too.

I finally applied for unemployment last month when it became clear that I couldn’t wait any longer and needed the help. They have approved my claim, but denied my request to have it backdated to the week after I received my last paycheck, the first week there was no work for me. Rarely do they grant an appeal after a denial. Well, my claim was denied this morning, and I can appeal, and will, but it’s exceedingly rare for these sorts of backdating requests to be approved unless the employer has made some huge mistake in filing or dating a claim. Not filing out of hope I wouldn’t need it is not something they honor.

I explained that it would have showed poor faith in my organization to have filed at the first sign of a skipped paycheck. It would have destroyed the possibility of receiving back pay if we did receive funds. So I waited, and am now out three months of unemployment assistance I could have collected. That’s roughly two mortgage payments. Shit on a shingle.

So if I seem lackluster or absent, please excuse me. I’m getting ready for another appeal and trial. So much fun after the last one.

Thursday, September 04, 2008 Bad Mood Dude, Familybits

I’ve never had one of those naked-in-front-of-an-audience dreams, but I do have some of the other standards such as forgetting where class is, missing tests, and getting lost in hotels, malls, and campuses. There’s also a plethora of dreams in which I must pack a vast amount of family clothing into hopelessly inadequate luggage, knowing full well that I will never make the flight on time—AGAIN—and that I will end up wheeling everything (sleeves and pant legs hanging out every zipper) to the curb to get a taxi home. Trouble is, I either don’t know the way, have no money, or get caught up in some underworld espionage drama where I am forced to ditch the luggage and run for my life.

I’ll let you insert your own all-too-obvious analysis here.

Last night was back-to-school night for all three my my kids, in first, third, and fifth grade. They split up the times so that grades K-3 were the first hour and 4-5 were the second hour. Only I thought it was K-2 and 3-5. You know, three and three, all logical and whatnot. What do I know? I’m not even employed.

So, of course, I went to the first grade class, knowing that it was important to get to know the teacher that would be grading my child FOR REAL, and not at all with the latitude given in Preschool and Kindergarten.

After than, I prepared to split my time between the boys’ classes, and was agonizing over which to hit first when I saw a friend outside the fifth grade classroom. “Boy, am I happy to see YOU here! Well, in general, but also because you can give me the scoop on this class while I go do third grade.” Score!

I ran over to the third grade room, which was…dark. And empty. Whafuaaa? Ohhh no. No no no no. I flagged down a teacher. “Is it at all possible that some classroom intros are not being held, say in the portables?”

“Which teacher? Oh! Well, third grade was in the first session. She’s gone home.”

Oh dear mother of God marinating in a sardine tin.

Dylan’s class was the one I didn’t want to miss. The one I need to be on top of. I will need to make a separate appointment to get the materials, warn the teacher about a few things, and ask her to feel free to vent anytime. Man, I hate the thought that Dylan is sitting at his desk, thinking that his parents were the only ones not to show. I did, but could only be in one place at a time. My poor little guy. Maybe I’ll go over at lunch time to give him a hug and tell him I’m sorry I missed meeting his teacher.

And then I’ll corner her, which I am sure is her favorite kind of lunchtime surprise.

Tuesday, September 02, 2008 Other people who write

Kids and the elderly sling harsh words at Brad Meltzer’s THE BOOK OF LIES in this engaging spoof of critics’ negative reviews of the author’s newest thriller. 

Monday, September 01, 2008 Familybits

Hey everyone - just got back from visiting friends at their home and winery, Cole Bailey Vineyard. Now, I don’t say this about every stay with friends, but I would totally have chosen their Sesquipedalian Sauvingon Blanc and Cabernet over just about anything else on offer (WHY did we not raid the wine cellar after everyone passed out last night??), and that coupled with great company, terrific dining, and gorgeous setting made us want to stay a week. Which we might do next time.

Cole Bailey produces Sauvignon Blanc and estate-grown Cabernet Sauvignon. Each of the wines is noble, with the understated yet pulchritudinous aroma typical of a blue-blooded Brahmin. Nevertheless, from the first sip it’s clear that Cabernet, Syrah and Sauvignon Blanc “Sesquipedalian” are mouthfuls. Like a character from a Faulkner novel, they come right at you, powerfully forging ahead full-throttle, stunning reflections of their respective vineyards’ terroir. These wines speak to a worldly palate and have no patience for those anchored to the jejune in life.

Our friends have a son Logan’s age, and they were completely inseparable, as were we with Jen and Bob. (You may remember that Bob is the guy the Otter Character was based on in Animal House. He’s a scream. Last time we saw them we were all wearing togas at an Otis Day and the Knights concert and Delta House reunion.)

Also - just put up some photos from my 40th birthday! You’re welcome.

Friday, August 29, 2008 Familybits

I haven’t left the house in three days. Since I broke my current eyeglasses, I have a choice between wearing them one-stemmed and crooked or wearing the ones that are two prescriptions old. I’ve stocked up on books from a new favorite author, but she writes so much like me that I get all frustrated that I can’t get it together to redo my first book and finish the second, and maybe split them up four ways. She must have an awesome editor. I need an awesome editor. It’s two hundred degrees out and I hate the heat. I took off ten pounds as of last week, but my current routine will put them right back on unless I go climb an ancient structure for four hours twice a week. My mom is selling her house and moving, and I want to help and am ready for the call, but I don’t know that I want to see the house all torn apart (termite repairs) and empty because my heart will hurt. I haven’t seen where they are moving, but hope to when they get the keys in a week. I’m constantly re-juggling furniture and room dimensions in my head so we can have a plan for how to make room for Phil once we’re married. We need a bigger dresser, but the one I have is a family heirloom, was my mom’s and then mine since I was five. Daphne needs a smaller bed, but ditto on the brass bed. It was mom’s, then mine as a child, and now hers. Sense a theme here? We cling to things that have been touched extensively by previous generations with a desperate sort of alacrity. I can’t bear to give them up, and it breaks my heart to see the marble dresser that matches my night stands (handed down from Mom) in Gil’s house, minus half the marble for the top. I don’t know what I’m going to do when the garage is drywalled and I have to put all that crap somewhere so we can use the middle of the room. Why do I have all this crap anyway? There are roughly five hundred books in my shelves, but they represent countless hours of escape and entertainment and learning, hours that saved my sanity and opened the world to me. The same world I’m avoiding by sitting in here, day after day, in my pajamas. Fortunately, I will have to change out of them to pick up the children this afternoon. I need them. I need to parent. It helps me do grown up things, to take care of the house. To take care of myself. Because when I’m alone I’m just on hold.

Thursday, August 28, 2008 Familybits

I’m on the line with the unemployment office and bagging specimens so we can get a positive ID on these flying things! They fit the flying ant description, but those antennae seem a little too perky for ants. And Terminix can’t send anyone until Tuesday! Sure, I’ll wait! How many could invade in six days? Piece of cake!

So I’m posting this picture of one of the ones I caught in a baggie. Maybe someone out there can tell me wtf it is. Prize: a TMB, Pear Soup, or Wonderbelly tshirt or cap.

And yes, I know, my camera is shit all of a sudden. I can’t get it to focus properly. My best friend may come back with her camera to try again. She just stopped by with Bing cherries because she was sure I hadn’t eaten yet, and I totally broke down. I know I need to go out and run a marathon or something but it’s two hundred degrees out there and I don’t even want to open my eyes except to read. UGH.

So, come on over and bring a bane of your own. We’ll get through it together. And I’ll make blender drinks and when Phil gets home we’ll talk him into making his famous guacamole.

*sobs*

OMG I just covered up the heating vent next to my desk. All doors and windows are shut. What if that’s where they’re coming from? … if they are, I don’t want to think about how many more vents I’ll have to close. I just lifted my three hundred pound desk to pull the magnetized cover all the way over and I think the other vents are under dressers. Just shoot me.

OMFG I just got spam inviting me to join the ever-growing and lucrative field of medical bill collections.

Thursday, August 28, 2008 Familybits

I’m sure this is a first-week-only thing, but my kids have been coming home with the greatest homework assignments.

On Monday night, my eldest grabbed me from behind and gave me a bear hug.

“What was that for?”

“I’m supposed to hug two people for my homework.”

Later, as I was folding laundry in the kitchen, he sprawled on one dining chair and put each foot up on another. I kept folding.

“Hi, Mom!”

“Hi, baby!”

“So, notice anything?”

“That you’re watching me and smiling in a creepy way? That you’re taking up three chairs? That you’re wearing two socks I’ve been looking for?”

“I was supposed to put on two different socks and see if anyone noticed.”

“Ah, well find out if you get extra credit for having another pair just like it.”

And then last night, my middle son called. “Hi Mom, I need you for my homework.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. I’m supposed to tell each person in my family two things I like about them.”

“Okay, then! Shoot!”

“These are the two things I like about you: one, you’re snuggly, and two, you’re a nice and lovable mom.”

“Well, then we match. Thank you, sweetie, that makes me very happy.”

“Goodbye, Mom, I love you.”

Wednesday, August 27, 2008 Me, Me, Me, Bad Mood Dude

So I’m sitting here, posting and emailing resumes and generally trying to get my kittens together, when Collections calls again to see if I can pay the rest of that ER bill from last Spring—actually there were two bills, one for my ER visit and one for Dylan’s plastic surgery to remove the remains of a tick—for which I can’t even remember if I was insured. I think I was still struggling to prove it amid one company canceling my policy (oops) and then scrambling to reinstate it… oh, hell, I don’t know why but I’ve been having the worst time coming up with the cash and I’m totally dreading having to go over the entire year with the Insurance company to get reimbursed. It’s a lot of money, so I will do it, just not now.

So I finally tell the lady, FINE, take it, here’s my routing and account information, take the whole thousand, I hope it clears, asshole, squeezing my eyes shut and rubbing my forehead. When I opened my eyes, there were a dozen little winged ants crawling up the french door three inches in front of my nose.

What the fuck? We took care of one pest issue after another, and have been battling flies the size of badgers as part of the maggot fallout, as it were, so we should be done, right? RIGHT?

Oohhhh, no, we’ve got a whole new type of ant…fly…thing. I grabbed the nearest cleaning substance (not really for cleaning but I do remember how it stings) and sprayed the crap out of the windows and then sat down and cried. Y’all must think I live in a pig sty. Not so. It’s a really great little house. I’m just a magnet for shit no one wants to deal with.

And now, having showered and put on my flannel pjs, I am retiring to Daphne’s room to stare at her serene, calming blue walls and read until Phil comes home.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008 Bad Mood Dude

Lately, I’m Will Ferrell running around a racetrack trying to put out the invisible fire. You can’t see it? Well, that’s just because you’re not the kind of team mate who’ll knock me to the ground and use your body to smother the invisible flames.

Anyone want some of this crack? Got it at Target. It was on sale.

I’m amazed any of you keep coming back when you don’t live in my head and see and hear what I do when things go sideways. If it’s going well, I’m thanking Jesus, 8 pounds 6 ounces baby Jesus, new born, not even spoken a word yet. If it’s not, I’m begging Tom Cruise to use his witchcraft to get the invisible fire off me. I’m very impressionable, apparently.

But jiminy, enough with the tests of character. Things are going well. I have a future with someone I love to pieces. I have three beautiful, bright, healthy children. I have managed to hang onto the house for years despite employers going out of business, running out of cash, people crashing into my car in front of the kids’ school, TWICE, and being uninsured or on the verge of it for longer than I can count back, in months, using all fingers and toes.

The kids are insured with their father and have been since I left the foundation in 2005, and suddenly his company is going all kinds of haywire and implementing COBRA even though they’re just changing hands. It’s a company that feeds families, not a hot potato, forjeeperssakes, so please treat it accordingly! So now he’s resigned and COBRA is sucking the life out of him. I have my own COBRA cross to bear, and I swear the two bills combined make up damn near half a mortgage.

I haven’t heard back from the EDD on unemployment, haven’t had an income since May, and am spewing resumes like a woodchipper hoping to get some kind of paid work with benefits. I am a multi-talented person, folks, and I can do most anything I put my mind to, but at some point I need a little push. A little leg up. A little freaking opening.

Do I want to be collecting unemployment? No. Do I want to consider filling out the reduced-cost lunch program so my kids can eat for less at school? No. Do I want to try to attach my ex’s wages? No. Do I want to borrow more money now that I finally don’t owe anyone else anything anymore? No. Do I want to keep driving a car that has a broken seatbelt and three windows that don’t go up and down like they’re supposed to? No. But I do want to keep trying.

Hard times are causing my ex and me to snap at each other, challenging each other’s money management, raiding drawers at each other’s house because we KNOW we bought clothes for the kids but can’t find a single pair of shorts ten minutes before school starts and I know all the laundry is clean and put away.

I’m going to sell my former wedding ring. I’ve seen places like idonowidont.com, but don’t know which of all the similar sites is most trustworthy and productive. I don’t think I’ll get what it’s worth at the jeweler’s. What did you do with your rings when you split up? Did you have to sell them? Did you prefer to keep them for posterity? Do you want to buy a beautiful, 2.5 carat, three-stone diamond ring set in platinum? For you, special deal today.

Time to finish coffee and get looking again for a job. I was all excited to see a records/database/web manager position at the school district office when I went to ask for test scores this morning, but the final date for applications passed last week. Testing is just ending. I could have done that job in a heartbeat. Until then, I’ll just keep doing my job with my children and hope for more Karmic blessing.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008 Familybits

Yesterday, at the meet-n-greet coffee klatch at the kids’ school, we all rustled around grabbing coffee and donut holes (the younger siblings were all, “DONUT HOLES!” I think I actually taught one little boy a new word. His mom glared at me).

My ex still had my camera, so I was saving a seat for him and for my friend so we could all not see the principal speak together. (She’s a little on the short side, and everyone else was standing. There was no chance of seeing her so we put up our feet.)

The place was crammed with dads seeing their kids off on the first day, obviously on their way to work and wondering how much longer they could go un-missed at the office. At one long lunch table, a gentleman in a suit made a friendly gesture toward the bench opposite, and extended his hand. He was new this year.

“Hi, I’m P.”

“Hi P. Actually, I believe we know each other. Remember, we played softball fifteen years ago? When your girlfriend worked with my boyfriend? Mindy Roberts. You know, Gil?”

“Oh!”

“And then we met again five years ago at Alex’s birthday party, and you were holding a newborn, your first.”

“Wow. Good memory.”

Others had sat down in the meantime, including my friend now clutching my camera, Dylan’s DS, and two chargers. Yes, two. So one wouldn’t feel jealous staying at home. My ex had had to leave and couldn’t find me, so he asked her to hold everything until she found me. I rolled my eyes at the tangle of cords and proceeded to stuff everything into my bag.

“What’s that?” Asked P.

“What’s what?”

“That thing.”

I looked down at the DS. “You mean this?” He nodded. I looked at another mom stifling a grin. “Oh, my God that is so cute.” I savored the moment. “This, my friend, is a Nintendo DS Lite. You WILL have one. It WILL rock your sons’ worlds, and you WILL at some point, without even noticing, arrange some part of your life around it. You will create a whole new set of rules specific to it. You will have more than one. It seems a trifle, but you will learn to track it like you do your wallet. Your sons will astound you with ferocious leaps in manual dexterity and sudden ability to retain all kinds of detail about characters, levels, strategies, and files. Verily, my six-year-old knows what it means to download from another DS. Enjoy these next couple of years without them, P, because things will never be the same after a DS comes into your life.” The other moms around the table nodded sagely.

“My husband is always playing it.”

“We have three in a family of four.”

“It seemed hideously expensive until we realized that road trips and waits at the doctor’s were unbearable without them.”

“I like doing the NY Times Crossword puzzles.” I felt like adding, I just read it for the articles.

Monday, August 25, 2008 Familybits

They’re back.

And Daphne insisted there be one of me, after a late-night school supply run.

Monday, August 25, 2008 Familybits

My ex’s AARP card just arrived in the mail.

Saturday, August 23, 2008 Me, Me, Me

I’ve just been up to my patootie in school, home, and crazy person related affairs.

The kids go back Monday, and I’m actually a little sad about it (I must have remembered to take my meds today). This is the first year they will all be in class for the same time span, and that I can actually be home or somewhere else between nine and two-thirty, Monday through Friday. Doesn’t that sound… decadent?

I’m also determined to get my garage in shape for my birthday gift from mom: we are going to drywall and plaster my garage so it looks like a real room, and not just a place where rats go to stay when no one else will take them. Having moved every single box and shelving unit to the center of the space—noting that all my shit occupies approximately the same footprint as the two cars that are supposed to be in there in the first place—there is now at least five or six feet clearance between the Wall of Junk and the perimeter. God, I hope I can talk them into whitewashing the exposed beams of the ceiling. Anything would be an improvement. I’m putting in that huge ceiling fan that’s been sitting in the corner for two years and maybe—just maybe—it can be used as a TV/playroom/extra office space.

Or maybe I’ll just have a nicer place to store my shit, when I get around to moving it back against the walls.

It actually looks kind of nice now, just a monolith covered with canvas tarps. Cleaner than it’s been if fifty years, I’m betting. And just for the record, I will not be discussing how many dustpans full of rat poop I swept up today. Not even if you beg.

Okay, time to move to the couch to finish digesting the very excellent Peking Duck we had tonight because we didn’t get to Da Dong in Beijing the last night we were there. Swimming went long, and well, Michael Phelps was slated toward the end of the qualifying heats. China Stix was fabulous, though, and recommended by a friend of ours who hails from Beijing. We figure if that is where her family takes every visiting friend and family member, then it must be good. Phil even ate the tail and sucked on the head a little. I think I have pictures on my phone. If I can stand to do it, I’ll post them here soon. You’ve been warned.

Thursday, August 21, 2008 Me, Me, Me

I just pulled out my checkbook to pay the cleaning service (praise be to God), flipped it over to start writing, and realized that it was, in fact, the remote for the DVD player.

I thankyew.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008 Familybits

I mean, does it get any better than this? My ex-husband is so excited about my engagement to someone he admires that he is throwing me a get-together and inviting my parents while his parents are in town. Sha-ZAM!

If that’s not divorcing with Tenderness and Grace, I don’t know what is. Honestly, when we set out to raise our children without the burden of guilt or fault with regard to the divorce, we thought we’d do okay. Maybe.

When I met Phil, my ex was happy for me. Then, when he met Phil, he was happy, period. Here was a guy’s guy, someone who did not try to parent his children, who did not try to be the dad, who loved me unwaveringly, and who had everything he could wish for in a role model: integrity, honesty, wit, charm, and tolerance. When the kids met him, they were all, “Chef! YAY! Bowler? Double YAY!” They love him.

The first clue that we were exuding a modicum of Tenderness and Grace was the kids asking why in blue blazes were we breaking up because they thought we got along fine. Score one for not hanging it all out there in front of the kids! The second clue was when my daughter asked both of us to promise not to get married because she didn’t want anyone new in the family. When I asked about Phil, she said, “Duh, he IS part of the family!”

The same goes for his family. I haven’t met a single one of them that I wouldn’t choose to live with on a deserted island. I mean, the men all cook, the women are sharp, open, and generous, and the whole bunch is funny as hell. Plus, they get me. That right there is no easy feat.

My ex has been asking me for the last year when we’d be getting married, and—let me be clear—he doesn’t stand to benefit in any way from it. He just likes the guy. He thinks this is the best thing that could happen to the kids. “Don’t let him get away, Mindy, he’s really great. You make a great pair.” You know, I almost think that I was meant to lose my friendship with him as a spouse, because there was a far richer friendship waiting for us.

When an old friend called last night to congratulate me, she said, “You’re giving the rest of us hope! If one fortyish mom can attract a guy like that, maybe we can, too.” And she doesn’t even have kids—believe me, they aren’t lining up for divorcées with four decades and three children under their (elasticized) belts.

So, as difficult as the last several years have been, as much disaster and wreckage we’ve all been though individually and as a family, I wouldn’t change a single moment of it, because it led us here.