Behaving Badly

I'm having a hard time forgiving myself for some of my recent actions, fully realizing that I may not be forgiven by some of the people I hurt. I'm most ashamed that I let myself bottle up my emotions and then explode with them. Most of what came out of my mouth was fueled by anger and loneliness. I'm sorry. I once said that in my version of friendship you still love someone even when they are an asshole. I wasn't prepared to admit that there would be times that I would be the asshole.
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It's amazing to me that my coworkers manage to ignore each other completely. I just finished the last lipotherapy treatment on my chin and I went back into work comforted by the knowledge that no one would ask me about it. Then I started thinking, isn't it a little odd that none of my coworkers have ever said: "B, I notice that your neck is eating your chin. Your face has swollen up to five times its original size. Do you think that's something you should be concerned about?"

Nope. I look like I've gained 50lbs from the neck up and no one as ever said anything to me. It's like working in the non-profit industry somehow inoculates people from caring for each other. You have to somehow normalize all of the things you see on a daily basis. In that process, you lose part of the compassionate humanity that you recognize in others.

I write little vignettes in grant proposals about the effect of my agency's programs on clients. In one story, a young girl's father abandoned her and her brother. and took all of the family's furniture and money. The mother couldn't provide enough food for the kids and the little girl's hair starts falling out. Her teachers at the preschool notice and refer the family for counseling and emergency food assistance. The girl's hair starts slowly regrowing as she graduates from the preschool and enters first grade at a local elementary school, where she receives outstanding academic marks.

I've told that story so many times that I no longer feel anguish over a little girl suffering so much stress that she develops bald spots. Sometimes I worry that my work has desensitized me too much.

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I'm glad that whoever said the only way to force someone to swim is to throw them in the deep end hasn't given Zac swimming lessons. My kid sinks faster than a rock in water. Zac makes cats look like good swimmers.

When he jumps into the water, he demands that I catch him, usually just about .05 seconds before his feet leave the pool bottom. Once in my arms he'll roll over on his stomach. I loop my arm underneath his belly and he'll kick furiously to get back to the pool steps to jump in the water again. He's just so damn cute, but I wish he would consider doggie paddling without me.

Last night we had a play date with a woman from grad school and her kids. She brought a life vest that Zac used at their neighborhood pool. With the vest on, he could float and keep his head above water, although you'd never know that from his screams. The words, "MAMA. HELP MEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" echo off the water, even though he obviously had enough oxygen to look at me and scream.

Fortunately, we have plenty of time to perfect his swimming ability before the end of summer, which in Houston is somewhere around December. Until then, I'll be the one in the pool kid clinging desperately to her arm, shouting, "Get me over to the edge, MAMA!"

Who Me?

I just beat Dew/E.J. in a silent blog-a-day competition. After five years I still have enough blogging mojo to beat a newbie blogger. Clearly, my ace in hole are stories about my son. It's pretty difficult for non-mommies to compete with that. I stopped posting after my victory, though, which pretty much makes me look like a total ass. Sorry about that.

Not a whole lot is going on over here. I had class this weekend and ended up going to bed frightfully early. When I went over to my parents' house on Sunday, I found a notice to withhold FOB's earnings in the mail. It looks like the AG's office was able to confirm where the FOB works in New Hampshire. That was a nice surprise. Since the amount that he owes has continued to go up, the amount he pays on arrears has also increased. Also nice. It's just doubtful that with him working in the restaurant industry as a server that I'll ever see even a portion of what the AG has determined he owes.

Manfriend came over last night. I was lying on my couch feeling like a horrible hostess, watching he and Zac played with the marble set that he gave Zac for his birthday. The two of them had a really good time together. Well, at least Zac had a good time and Manfriend pretended not to notice that Zac was messing up his well-engineered marble-rolling contraption.

I may or may not have said something along the lines of: "I've given up on dating. I still go out on dates, but really, I've given up." This may or may not be true, I'm not sure. I know that when I get upset about things with the FOB, I feel incredibly alone - so alone that I'm not sure how anyone will be able to bridge the gap between me and someone else. Then I'll start talking with someone new and dating will seem like a less fatalistic activity. I have a lunch date tomorrow with a guy that I'm looking forward to meeting. It sounds like a total contradiction to my statement last night, but it's what I'm feeling.

Good thing I never claim to be anything other than a walking hyperbole.

A Lighter Touch

For P, a story:

Over the course of three years, I've gone out on some fairly unbelievable dates. These dates were so bad that I could get a world record for bad dating in the track and field events, if dating was say, a decatholon. To continue the metaphor, my date on Monday could be equated to a javelin event, but instead of throwing a spear into the field, we just threw comments at each other.

I'll call the guy Moose. I had been talking to Moose over IM for about a month. Moose does private contracting as a mechanic on large military vehicles, primarily in war zones, which is where most military vehicles end up at some point. He's been back from Iraq for a couple of months and got online to meet new people. What's most interesting about Moose is that he doesn't work and doesn't plan to work anytime soon. He's looking at year's of free time. When I asked him what he does during the day, his reply was, "Play with my dog, golf, or shoot". "Shoot what?" I asked, genuinely curious as to what someone would shoot at all day. He replied, "I go to a range and either shoot skeet or targets." I think my reply was something as non-committal as, "Hmm...interesting." He asked if I wanted to go shooting with him. I ended up saying no because of my firm belief that dating should not live ammunition - really at any point, but especially in the beginning.

I'm glad that I went with my gut on this decision because at dinner with Moose we got into a "discussion" about the significance of the Confederate Flag. He believes that it is a symbol of Southern pride as a battle flag. I'm like, "Sure. I agree with you. It was a battle over the right to have slaves. What exactly is there to be proud about?" He said that it for him it's not a symbol of racism and slavery. I argued that the meaning of symbols is decided collectively, from the aggregate, not the individual...and on and on we went. I consider myself lucky that no one had a gun. It might have gotten ugly.

The date ended and I fled into the car, leaving Moose standing on the sidewalk. I was pretty sure that I was never going to hear from him again, but he surprised me by contacting me again to ask if I wanted to watch the next UFC fight with him. If I had to rank all the things that I find interesting in the world, UFC fighting is near the bottom, probably ranking close to golf and elk hunting. Although, I probably shouldn't speak definitively because I've never done either of those two activities. Let's just call it an educated guess.

Desolate

I wish I could describe how alone I feel when I fight for child support. It's like the entire system is set up to protect the rights of parents that don't have chosen not to contribute to their child's life, either financially or emotionally. In order to proceed with a modification of our child support order, the Attorney General's Office needs to verify the FOB's income, which means that he needs to be at a job for more than six months. THEN, they need his home address to serve him with the order to appear in court. All he has to do is keep moving and changing jobs and he can get away with not paying. What's worse is that if he keeps waiting tables and making $2/hour the state will garnish only his actual paycheck, and I get $20 every other week to help raise Zac. I was told by the AG's office that in that situation, they almost never go after men because "at least they are paying something." It makes me want to scream and kick.

It just feels so wrong. It's not only that he owes me money, it's the principle behind it. In my job I write grants to provide people with the services and education they need to change their life, to make what is unfair and unjust a little better. Yet, no one fights for me. No one can. I feel invisible, ineffective, and trapped. If I give up, then I'm condoning the actions of the FOB and I can't do that. I can't do that for Zac and I can't do that for myself.

What's even more isolating is that some of my friends think that the money isn't worth the anger and sadness that it brings me to fight for it. I try to explain that: 1) The money is worth it and I don't have the luxury of not pursuing it because of my financial situation, and 2) It makes it harder when I have to defend and justify my actions. I feel even more alone. I'm sorry that five years later, I'm still talking about the FOB and how upset it makes me. I'm sorry that you have to listen. I'm sorry that I'm not financially wealthy enough and don't have enough forgiveness in my heart to not pursue him with vengeance. I just can't. Not right now at least.

I want him to know that every time he turns around, the government will be there trying to garnish his wages. Every time he files his taxes, the IRS will take everything. I want him to know that he can't apply for a passport, get a house mortgage, or apply for a credit card. But none of these things matter to the FOB. That's the hardest thing for me to know. None of it matters and I'm back to waiting and feeling so alone.

Make That to Go

"Is he coming home with us?" Zac asked me last night, on the way to the car from the restaurant.

"No, babe. He's not."

"Where is he going?"

"He's going to his house. We are going to our house."

"But I want a friend to come over. Do you know who is going to come over?"

"No. I don't. I'll try and see if someone can come over."

Zac's desire to be around other people is getting harder for me as he's getting older. He's a naturally social kid that prefers to play with other kids or be the center of an adult's attention (preferrably two or three adults if they are in a group). I feel like I can't always offer him what he wants, in terms of a playmate or companion. As much as I try to balance his needs with the chores of running a house, going to work, and taking care of myself, I'm finding that Zac is getting more vocal about being alone.

A couple of weeks ago he repeatedly asked me where his Dad was. I told him that his "Dad" (my emphasis) lived in Florida and that he wasn't part of our life right now. He didn't understand. He just kept asking, hoping each time for a different answer.

I found out later that the FOB moved from Florida back to New Hampshire. His sister told me, when I asked if she knew why I had suddenly stopped receiving child support. Since he doesn't actually pay any money to the Texas Child Support Division, his wages are garnished. When he moves, the state that he lives in can't garnish his wages and Zac and I get nothing. I haven't even spoken to the FOB in almost a year-and-a-half.

I'm not even sure what I should do at this point. I requested a review of my case after the three year waiting period, then he started paying more and never heard anything. I could try and contact him through his myspace account, which is the only way that I have to get a hold of him, but what can I possibly say to him that would make him help me in any way? All I have is anger and even that is starting to wane. Righteous indignation is hard to maintain, even when it's justified. What I have now is no easy way to explain to Zac why he's missing half of his parents and easy way to pay all my bills, especially since I quit my second job.

I know that it's important for me to be in school, even if it makes things more financially difficult. I'm trying to find a way out of the same situation that I end up time and again with the FOB, it's just feeling hard today. I'd like a hug with a side order of responsible male role model for Zac. We could use it.

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Edit: So it turns out that I can still be pissed off, even though it does me absolutely no good. The Writ of Withholding at the Attorney General's Office can only be enforced if they have a known, verified address for the FOB. I only know where he works. He owes $5,825 in back child support, including medical. The State of Texas would have to ask for cooperation from the State of New Hampshire to serve the FOB with an order to appear in court. At least I can still mock him: Anyone want to guess who has a public myspace page?

I'm So Cool

I know that I'm a blast to hang out with. Really, I'm so cool that I wonder why more people don't want to hang out in my apartment with my toddler while I read a text book or write a paper. The sheer force of my charisma would be enough; I wouldn't need to talk. My friends could watch television or read and I'd offer them something to drink. I might even talk Zac out of climbing all over them...maybe. It might be kind of funny and I could use a good laugh.

This weekend I went out on a date where I was told that I'm too serious. I'm pretty sure that's because I was working hard at the conversation, thinking about what to say and what question I should ask next. I didn't have anything witty to say and found light banter to be tiresome. I was home in bed, by 8:30pm. I didn't wake up until 9:30am the next morning, which left me wondering if my brain needs to go on some sort of hiatus for a while until my body catches up with whatever it needs. Seriously, when did it become so hard for me to figure out what I need. I have enormous bruises on my calves and the back of my arms and I can't figure out where they came from. It was suggested to me that I might need more vitamin K, or possibly a way to avoid knocking into large, stationary objects with my body.

I don't remember holding a conversation being a difficult exercise when I was in college. I have many memories of talking long into the night. What gives now? Why is it that any attempt at communication seems to fall flat? I wish that I had answers to those questions. All I'm left with now is the feeling that I should avoid trying to meet new people, even though 30 new people recently entered my life through grad school. Even with them, school feels like a solitary exercise. I completed a take-home test for Microeconomics and I'm working on my final paper for Leadership. We have the text books for Business Law and Statistics, which are quite possibly some of the most boring reading material that I've encountered in a long time. That's saying something considering I read a large number of studies and statistics for work.

Does anyone want to hang out with me while I read and try not to fall asleep? I promise that I'm really cool...

We Are Family

Sometimes I'm amazed at how like people in a family are. Last night my Mom and Dad came over with some presents that my extended family and the FOB's family sent to Zac for his birthday. We ordered Chinese food for dinner. When dinner came we realized that we had been given an extra order of hot and spicy chicken. The dish had jalapenos and hot peppers mixed with chicken. All of the adults took one look at the food and decided that the only way we could eat any of it was to follow it with liberal dosing of maalox and antacid. Actually, the only way we could eat it would be to surgical remove our tongues - that's how strongly we feel about spicy food, in general, and jalapenos, in particular. Zac observed this family tradition by only eating white rice, a banana, and yogurt.

While my parents and I are similar, Zac and I tend to mirror each other emotionally. He's been slipping out of bed at night and coming into my bed. If I'm awake, he'll tell me that he didn't want to be in his room anymore because he's lonely. If I'm asleep, he manages to get into bed without waking me. The next morning before I'm fully awake, I'll wonder who it was that I fell asleep next to and why I don't remember it. Honestly, it's a completely confounding experience. Like: "What the hell? Why is there something simultaneously kicking me in the small of the back and hitting me in the head? Who IS this?" By the time my eyes are open, I've usually figured out that someone hasn't broken in my apartment to spoon with me. Rather, Zac's gotten out of his room.

This morning he slept all night, but woke up early. He opened my door and climbed into bed saying, "I don't want to sleep anymore. I'm lonely. I want to see what you were doing." Me: "Ummm.....zzzzzzzz" Zac: "Can I go play? You're boring" Ok, so he actually didn't say that I was boring, but that was definitely the feeling that he gave me. Maybe I'm just projecting. All I know is that he came into my room this morning and jumped into bed. Thirty seconds later he was back in the living room, playing with the 100-piece marble toy set that ManFriend gave him.

I can certainly understand some of what Zac is going through (minus the obsession with marbles and motorized toy trucks). I have some amazing friends that I don't get to see very often, if at all. Most of my friends live outside of Texas, even after five years of living here. It doesn't help that I work in an office where I sit alone in front of a computer all day. If I didn't go to the bathroom every so often, I could probably go an entire day with only talking to two or three people. By the time that I get to my study group on Wednesdays, I'm usually bursting to have adult, in-person, interaction. I feel like a puppy that's been sitting on the patio at a sliding glass door, barely able to contain its excitement to get inside the house and lick something. That's how much I want to talk when in a group of my peers.

I don't even have time (or I'll admit it - desire) to fold my laundry, let alone go out and meet people, but I can still feel an absence in my life. when Zac tells me he's lonely, I nod and say "me too" and we hug. Our professors are taking us out for a drink after class on Friday, which I'm looking forward to. It's possible that I like I might get to see...hmmm...now I've forgotten the nickname that I gave him.....oh, that's rather embarrassing. Well, I'll just say that I might get to see a friend that got married last October and lives in a suburb on the complete opposite side of Houston on Saturday, so that should be fun. Zac will be with my parents so hopefully there will be a little less loneliness all around.

Acquiescence

Ok, ok...I'll update. Goodness! I have a new reader who actively prods me to update, which is probably good for me since I've been a slacker on my blog lately. It's hard to remember that I used to update every day. I also used to talk about vomit a lot. That might have something to do with my posting frequency. In a wonderful, wacky turn of events, I get puked on so much less now. That might lend to my overriding feeling that I don't have much to say anymore, or the time to arrange everything in the way that I want to say it. It's easier to write about ear infections, puke, and developmental milestones than about my feelings or observations.

To get out of my passive role of blog reading and into a more active role as a writer again, I've decided to combine all three of my blogs (pregnantblogger, notsopregnant, and onbeing-andliving) on a new site. I'm really excited about developing five years' worth of blogs into a cohesive site and can't wait to start working with Dee on the project. I'm leaning now to going back to notsopregnant.com, but if anyone has any feedback, I'd love to get it. Maybe I should keep onbeing-andliving? Maybe I shouldn't look backwards and create a whole new domain name? Maybe no one reads this site anymore because I post so infrequently. I'm not sure. I'm torn. For now, I've settled with just changing my blog template and switching everything from the right-hand to the left-hand side. I'm a wild and crazy blogger, I know.

Speaking of unbridled wildness, Zac woke up early this morning. Last night he was so afraid that he was going to oversleep and miss his birthday. Papa and I assured him yesterday that we would wake him up, and that the sun doesn't need any help rising in the morning, but it looks like he wasn't going to be taking any chances. Zac and I got up and snuggled on the couch this morning and sang "Happy Birthday" to him well before the sun made an appearance. I now have the ridiculous, "How Old Are You?" song in my head. Hopefully you now have it your head as well. Consider that my gift to you.

People always post the "I can't believe my child is XXX number of years" blogs so I'm going to try and avoid doing that. However, I would be completely remiss if I didn't somehow mention that the little being that I gestated in my body for 9 months is now 4 years old. It is crazy. Sorry. It had to be said.

Every day Zac is growing and changing. He still loves to sing and always requests a duet with me whenever we are around music. The word "request" is a bit of a misnomer. Demand is more like it. He's an almost unflappably polite child except when it comes to asking for things. Instead of, "Please may I have..." I'm much more likely to hear, "I want juice." Then he'll just like at me like, "Woman, I have a need that you must fill. Get to that." If I don't respond to a statement he makes the first time, he'll inevitably ask for it again. "Mama, I neeeeeeed juice!" Then he'll go back to looking at me with a mixture of hope and sense of entitlement. I always ask him, "How do you ask for something when you want it?" and he'll respond dutifully, "Please may I have...?", but I'm thinking that my more conciliatory method of parenting isn't getting the point across. I may have to crack down on guerrilla demands by not responding at all to statements not made in the form of a question that begin with "Please".

But that day won't be today. Today, my little man turns 4 years-old and I couldn't be prouder of the person he's becoming, even when he forgets to be ask politely. He's funny, sweet, intelligent, and an incessant talker. His steady stream of words reminds me what it's like to find joy in the mundane and amazement in the middle of a daily routine. Happy Birthday, Zac.