It All Goes to...

They warned us in orientation that if everything could go bad at once, it will. That thought flitted through my mind as I was hunched over a hotel toilet in the early morning hours in Wilmington, DE over the weekend.

It seemed like the worst possible time to go on vacation, even though I knew that I couldn't miss AEP's and Liz's wedding. My grad program had just started and I had just finished the first week of class. I found out that the second week of class required me complete a 5-7 page paper based on an interview of a leader and a quiz in microeconomics. In addition to school work, my actual job had exploded on me. I was asked to be part of a team to create a mental health program to address behavioral and emotional disorders on school campuses. Writing it out like that makes it sound easier than it is, considering the team has never created a program before and I haven't ever written about the finer intricacies of mental health, mostly because I don't work in the field. I can't describe the difference between cognitive behavioral therapy and psychodynamic therapy and why one model might be more appropriate to at-risk Hispanic adolescents than another. Every day at work was another round of meetings where we tried to hash out the details of the program. I was chosen as the person responsible for writing the first draft of the proposal, even without any clinical expertise. Somehow being a grant writer is supposed to make me adept at technical writing in any given field. I haven't exactly figured out how that works.

So, I was already checking into work every day and answering phone calls on vacation, in between trying to write a paper for my leadership class and catch up on economics reading. I was already the leader of Team Stress, getting sick just made it that much worse. Actually I take that back. What made it worse was getting sick in a hotel room that I was sharing with three other people. That was the worst part. There was nothing I could do to make myself feel any better and I knew I was waking up my friends every time I got sick.

Coming back home, I was still shaky and my throat hurt from getting so violently ill. I had to jump back into work and spend hours working with the clinicians on a draft of the proposal. I'm able to take a breath today, which is a nice change. I need to finish up my paper and get some grasp on the economic problems we were given before the quiz on Friday.

My thoughts keep going back to the wedding. It was a beautiful ceremony between AEP and Liz, held outdoors at AEP's parents' house. As predicted, I cried the whole time, actually starting during the signing of the ketubah before the ceremony and not ending until I filled my plate with prime rib. I wish that I could say that I cried out of the beauty of two people expressing their love for one another, but that wasn't why I was crying. I started crying realizing that without AEP in my life, I might be in a very different position right now. She's so significant in my life that I reached out to her when I was very sick, even without realizing what I was doing. Her concern and love has been such a constant in my life that it seemed natural for me to call her when I was at my lowest, if only because she asked me to. It was AEP that called my Dad and got me the help that I needed. I'm not sure how I can ever be grateful enough for that.

Thinking back on the relationship and friendship between AEP and me, I can vividly remember every city that we've been in together. We've criss-crossed America and parts of Europe together. The last time I was actually in Wilmington was when I was five months pregnant and had to attend an AmeriCorps training. She picked me up from my hotel and drove me to her parents' house so I could rest. I ended up falling asleep on the couch outside the kitchen as baby Zac moved restlessly inside me. It's moments like those that kept jumping to mind over the weekend with AEP and Liz.

I know that AEP and Liz will love and take care of each other with all of their hearts. I wish them the best of luck as they continue to build their life together.

Prayers

I've been praying a lot lately, which says something about the current state I'm in because I don't pray that often. Dew says that he can judge my emotional state by the amount of posts on my blog. He intuits a correlation between me feeling good and posting. I think there is a correlation between me feeling like there are enough hours in the day to post and actually having something to say. Recently, it's not that I haven't had enough to say, it's that I've there have been a lot of changes to my routine and it's been a difficult transition. I wish that my eyes and back would understand that I'm not actually out to get them. If my body parts could stop freaking out I would have a better chance of accomplishing everything that I need to accomplish.

I had my first weekend of classes on Friday and Saturday. My first two classes are Microeconomics and Leadership. There is more reading than is almost humanly possible for each class, in particular the Microeconomics which involves a lot of textbook reading in a small font. It feels a little like being back at Oxford, although now I have a full-time job and a child. There is also less bicycling and 14th century architecture in my current reality, which is really quite a shame, although being able to drive to the grocery store is a nice bonus.

Let's see...what else? I'm really just going to work, coming home, reading, and going to bed. It makes for a fairly boring existence and a not particularly interesting blog. One notable fact is that my friend Byron has been staying with me. He's in a tough situation and I volunteered to help him out. I almost feel like I've got a new roommate, although unlike my current roommate, this one doesn't pee the bed. That reminds me...does anyone have any advice on bed wetting? I wet the bed until I was 6 or 7 and now Zac is doing it probably 2-3 out of five nights. I not exactly sure on the frequency, but I know that I can't keep up with the amount of laundry he's producing. Last night ge said he was too scared to get out of bed and go to the bathroom because he didn't want to be in his room alone. I almost pointed out that the new roommate sleeping could have slept with him, but I didn't think he would appreciate the subtlety of my argument. He probably would have counter argued with: "He's not my Mom." I would have had nothing to offer at that point.

Just Kidding

Come on readers...I know that some of you have been around since the NSPIT days. Not one of you warned me that writing about potential love interests equals the kiss of death to the relationship? Not one of you! I'm ashamed. Really. My readers have let me down.

See? This is why I don't even like to admit that I'm doing better than fine. When I put down that I felt good about the relationship, I might as well admitted that my foot was on fire and that I didn't smell smoke. In this case, I overlooked MG's very recent physical separation from his wife. They are still legally married, but separated. It wasn't until recently that they moved beyond the roommate status to "we are officially living in two separate residences" status.

And I have rules about this sort of thing! After dating Mr. Tugboat through his divorce, I promised myself that I would only date people that were legally divorced because no matter how much they think that they are over it, they aren't. Divorce is traumatic. Lawyers usually get involved and kids have to adjust. People have to adjust to their spouses dating other people and potentially bringing other people into parent their children. There is a lot of wailing and gnashing of teeth. Even though I've never been married, I've seen enough destruction from divorce to know better than to put myself in the middle of it voluntarily. I used to think that I could help the person going through it, but I can't. Not while dating them at least. I know that much and yet, for some reason, I thought this time would be different. Almost as different ramming your head against a wall multiple times and expecting that it won't hurt. That kind of different.

So, MG and I were supposed to spend Memorial Day weekend together. Then Friday came and I got a text from him saying that his ex (what I liked to call his ex at least) decided to work overtime and wasn't going to pick the kids up until 10pm. He said he couldn't come over and I decided to hang out with R. and watch a movie. We were supposed to go out shopping before I worked at Pier 1 and he canceled that as well, saying that he wasn't sure what his ex was going to do. On Saturday, I got several texts from him saying how excited he was to hang out with me and finally get some alone time. The last one was around 3pm, while I was at work. About an hour later I get another text, this time about four hours before we had planned that he was going to pick me up from work and go out to a movie together. I'm not going to quote the text verbatim on here, but said something along the lines of, "I'm just not ready to be in a relationship and feel like I can't give you what you need...you are a special person....I need to be with my children and help them through this difficult transition...I just don't have the emotional capacity to be in a relationship right now".

Yes, I got dumped via text message.

I'm not trying to say that he didn't have very valid, well-thought out reasons for ending the relationship, it was the fact that I was texted these very valid, well-thought out reasons at work and dumped four hours before a date that really pisses me off. I texted him back and told him what he did was cowardly and that he at least should have talked to me. R. said that I was lucky he even told me at all, since most people just disappear. I have to argue, for the sake of humanity, that we hold people to higher standards than that. Certainly, I hope, that people have more decency than R. gives them credit for.

My parents had agreed to watch Zac on Friday and Saturday night so I could go out with MG. Instead of going out with him, I called R. again and he came and picked me up.

After my first beer at the restaurant, I started crying. By my third beer, I was glad that he was driving to the movie instead of me. I just felt so rejected, even if the reason that he ended the relationship wasn't about me, specifically. I can see that. I can also see that I got blind-sided and that I probably should have known better.

Bug and Sister

As soon as I mentioned that I was the last single parent that I knew, of course another single parent would come into my life. It's like mentioning that it hasn't rained recently, only to have it start instantly storming.

I mentioned MG in my last post, but didn't elaborate on him, mostly because it was so new and I wasn't sure if we were actually dating or not. Over the weekend, he made one of his first trips out of the house as a completely single parent and I had the luxury of meeting his two girls, bug and sister. Bug and sister, MG's nicknames for his girls, are 4 and 2. Zac was at his Nana and Papa's house when the three of us went out shopping on Sunday, which was good for a first meeting. He met the girls the next day when I went over to MG's house for the first time.

I realized that it's almost impossible for me to be around children and not want to parent them. It's become part of who I am, being a Mom, and I can't change it. I can't even control it. If I'm walking across the street with anyone under the age of 7, I have to actively stop myself from putting out my hand out to hold their hand. It's even worse with younger kids. With infants and toddlers, my body instinctively responds to their needs. I'm lucky if I can get away from the encounter without lactating, let alone wiping their mouths or checking to see if they need a clean diaper.

Imagine how hard it was for me then, to be around MG's youngest, who started calling me Mama. My body would respond to her even before my mind comprehended that I wasn't actually that child's Mama. The tone she used triggered some automatic response in me. I wanted to tend to her needs, even if it was to just look at her from the front seat of the car or offer her another piece of cookie.

Zac was over the moon when he got to meet them, in particular bug, MG's oldest. The two of them played like they were long-lost friends. It was heart-warming to see. This is the first time that Zac has ever met the kids of anyone I've been dating. I'm in unknown territory with this one. I probably should feel slightly alarmed, but I don't. Something feels right. It's a little scary, of course, but I have a good feeling. It's really nice to be around another single parent, especially one with kids as cute as MG's. It's also a nice bonus that I don't actually have to change any diapers.

Weddings

Pretty much everyone that knows me knows that I have a love/hate relationship with weddings. To me, there is nothing more beautiful than watching two people confess their undying love for each other in front of a crowd of friends and family. Even if the marriage only lasts eighteen months, the wedding itself, that singular moment right before two people lean in to seal their vows to each other with a kiss, is awe-inspiring.

I hate weddings because watching two people have that moment while sitting in a pew or garden chair alone can be heart wrenching. I'm always the single person at the wedding, either sitting by myself or trying to wrangle Zac into the seat next to me.

At my sister's wedding, I cried like an idiot for the entire time. A steady film stream of clips from our childhood flashed through my mind. I couldn't grasp that the woman she was standing up there was the same girl that used to steal all the bubbles from our bubble baths. I didn't learn until I was about six or so that the person sitting closest to the faucet gets a higher density of bubbles. The day I learned that was the day that I learned anything was possible. On the day that my sister got married, I was 19 years-old and in college. So much had changed between the two of us, yet I was crying over what used to be, even though our relationship now, as adults, is more complex and fulfilling than I could have seen at the time.

For as much as people talk about weddings as a new beginning, they are also a form of closure. While they open up a new life for the people involved, they almost necessarily close a chapter of a person's single life. As much as the two people try and deny it, you think twice before calling a married friend at 2am because you just got your heart broken, again. "They don't really understand anymore," you rationalize and brace for the words that you know are coming, "It will be ok," they mumble in sleep-induced haze, "You'll find someone else" they tell you.

And you know all these feelings and emotions are going through your head while you are sitting in the ceremony, crying for what was and what will be. I cry because I have no significant other, not even one that I can invite to Tulane's "Significant Other" weekend. I'm not sure it would be socially acceptable to show up with my cat. MG offered to go with me, but he said it with such hesitance in his voice that I could tell that he didn't really want to go. I told him that he didn't have to and dropped the subject.

I'm in that phase of life where everyone I seem to know is getting married. In a little over a month I'm going to AEP's wedding. She and I have known each other over ten years. Prior to her visit to Houston for a conference in October, it had been four years since we had seen each other. She hadn't met my son yet. It seems like lately I see my friends primarily at weddings, either their own or the weddings of mutual friends and now AEP is getting married.

So I'm going to this wedding as the last completely single parent that I know personally. When I moved to Texas, I met three other completely single Moms and one single Dad with young children. Over the span of three years, all of them have gotten married or engaged. I just went to Tracy's wedding reception a month or so ago. Our sons are three weeks apart in age and celebrated their second birthday together. She was so radiant at the reception and I was so happy for her that it worked out, but that didn't make being one of the only single Moms there any easier.

No matter what emotions wedding evoke in me, it is almost a guarantee that I'll be the one quietly crying in the corner while the two participants exchange vows. I even cried at a stranger's wedding in Seattle and will frequently bawl at the end of wedding shows on the Discovery Channel. I just want to lean over to someone during the ceremony and have them tell me, with such warmth and confidence, that it's all going to turn out just fine and exactly as it was supposed to, regardless of the state of matrimony I'm in.

The Writing Spot

I should have added my other blog to my blogroll when I updated the links, but I forgot.

Nevertheless, there is a new post over at The Writing Spot. If you'd like to read it, just shoot me an e-mail at onbeingandliving@yahoo.com.

Happy Mother's Day to all the Moms out there!

Pestilence

I've been spending so much time on my ass that it's breaking out in a rash. I'm sure that is exactly the kind of information that you were dying to know, but it's true. I spent 12 hours this weekend sitting in front of a computer at a review course at Tulane and then another 1 1/2 sitting and listening to a lecture last night about the strengths and challenges facing Houston in the 21st century. I think I might have enjoyed the lecture a little bit more if I could have stood up and walked around half-way through. As it is at work, I have to remember to stand up from my computer every two hours or so.

Right now, I'd trade butt rash for the ability to be fully awake. I mean, really, really awake and on top of my game. Everything feels foggy in my brain right now and I hate it. I'm not even sure what to do to clear out the cobwebs, when it feels like I could fall asleep at any moment. This is the kind of fatigue that makes it hard for me to work and even harder to take care of everything that I need to do at home.

Speaking of home, though, Zac has been sick (and no, it's not the swine flu). He started throwing up at preschool on Wednesday and I was required to get a doctor's note that he didn't have anything contagious and could return to school. He was out on Thursday and Friday with a stomach bug. On Sunday, he was complaining that his ear hurt, but the day before he also told me that his hair hurt, so I'm never completely sure what to believe. Sunday night reminded me so much of the time when I was breast feeding that it was a little scary. Zac woke up at 10pm saying that he couldn't fall back asleep (at least that's what I think he said. I know he said something about sleep. I'm going to hypothesize here). He crawled into my bed and I rubbed his back until about 10:40pm. He woke up crying every hour between then and 3pm. He couldn't tell me why he was crying or what he wanted, so I just held him close (I think. I was 90% asleep. I know I did something). I finally broke down and gave him some infant tylenol at 3:30am, which allowed him to sleep for another three hours.

It's Tuesday and I'm not fully recovered. Add to this my insurance recently denying a medication that had been helping me and I'm only left with creative ideas how to get out of this fatigue. Zac is on antibiotics for his ear infection. The poor guy has been really been hit hard the past week.

At least I'm not sick, even if I do have an impressive rash.