The Mommy Blog™ | Adventures from the Wonderbelly of Motherhood™

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

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.

I almost asked where the locusts were, and then remembered that they were all over the place at the Great Wall. *checks that one off the list*

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.

I like to think of Jesus as an Ice Dancer, dressed in an all-white jumpsuit, and doing an interpretive dance of my life.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Family

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.

I beamed at P, still thinking it was so cute that he was still in Toddler Land where such knowledge didn’t exist. What else was coming at him? Uh oh, his son has Dylan’s Kindergarten teacher. I said, my daughter was fine whenever she subbed, liked her a lot, but Miss Thang hated my son, said he was the worst behaved child she’s encountered in seventeen years of teaching. Oh, really? I wanted to say. Wow, you’re much older than I thought. “But then Dylan is a middle child, and this is your eldest, right?”

“Yes...” He started to look nervous.

“The calmer one? More responsible? Listens well?”

He relaxed. “Definitely.”

“Then he’ll be fine. It’ll take the edge off his being a boy. I think she likes pretty little girls who don’t break into song and do pratfalls at circle time.” He stared. “It got better.” Pause. “His teachers have all loved him since first grade.” I could tell we were overloading him. I was overloading him. But then again I remembered that he and his girlfriend were crack softball players and kicked our asses there and back again about five hundred times.

It was time to collect our Styrofoam cups, mingle with the moms we hadn’t seen all summer, and stand in line to meet the fourth principal in five years. Don’t even ask.

I said, “Here’s my card if you ever have questions. You know, just until you figure out how to work the system.” He gave me one of his as well, and we parted just in time for me to run over to a group of moms to flash my ring, only to find out that they already knew, because, you know, I have a BLOG and have been talking about it for a week.

“You know, that just takes all the fun out of exciting news.”

“My husband doesn’t know. You can tell him.” I nudged him and mumbled, “I got engaged last week.” “Ah, congratulations!” He didn’t squeal like a girlfriend would have, and didn’t even glance at my finger. But then I saw someone who I knew didn’t follow this blog and ran over, all breathless, placed my hand on my collarbone and gasped, “Guess what?”

“You’re pregnant!”

“Good Lord, woman, is that all you have? Like I don’t have enough babies? And am divorced and unemployed?”

I waggled my fingers. “SQUEEEAAAALLL!” That was more like it. “Ooh, I like him. It’s about time! When’s the date?”

“We’re letting it sink in with the kids. Daphne worried about where he would sleep, because we didn’t have enough beds. So there’s a learning curve there. Besides, I want to file as Head of Household this year.”

“And your ex?”

“He’s the most excited, aside from us, that is. He’s like a demented girlfriend with the congratulations and questions and all around thrill. He had my parents over to celebrate with his parents who were visiting from out of state. He even invited the neighbors.”

“Whoa.”

“I know!”

And then I was off to introduce myself to the new principal. “Hi, I know you won’t remember my name, but I just wanted to make contact. I’m Mindy Roberts, and I have three children here. You’ll probably see them in the office from time to time. Just a heads-up. Roberts.”

“Ahhh, thanks. I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Don’t worry, only two are boys.”

And then I scrambled for cash to buy hot lunches from the office because I just knew that no one had thought to pack food. I was right. They came home starving and jonesing for their DS’s, so the boys holed up in their room to try to defeat the game while Daphne and I curled up and slept off her first long, hard day as a first grader.

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I was just keeping her company