Chained for life

Technology and the Internet have just proved that it would be virtually impossible for me to ditch my kids forever.

Early Bird

Saturday mornings made me wish I could get away with spiking the kids breakfast with Jack Daniels. Their bodies are designed with some sort of mechanism that wakes them up earlier on Saturday than on school days. I call it "Up Syndrome". And it's awful. Waking me up at 5:45 on a Saturday, trying to use their cuteness for evil, evil things like asking me to make them pancakes, taking them to the park, or worse, much worse, putting together the Pig Chef puzzle.

From Resentful Mom

To catch a cheat

I found out today why we can't send the kids to camp. The bank called me today to ask me about a charge on our account. It was for $568 at a place called Jewels Spa and when I asked what it was for the customer service rep said "Couples massage".

It sure wasn't me having that couples massage. Time to investigate our finances. Secret style. I may have stumbled upon my way out.

From Resentful Mom

Role Playing

I think Bekka’s going down the dark road of RPG(role playing games). She’s been putting spells on the food at dinner and giving me intense stares, like she’s cursing me. She's also been calling me "King Swineheart". Fearing this was a reference to my weight, I did a marathon session on the elliptical machine (1 hour 46 minutes). While excreting an insane amount of sweat to Fergie, I decided that I was taking her actions too personally. When I got home, I googled "King Swineheart". King Swineheart is a villain in a RPG game called "Fuzzy Heroes". How could an overweight girl who loves stuffed animals not love this?

This is not really my fault. Yes, I let her eat and eat until she was given no choice but to join the only social group that would accept her – D&D kids. But I thought the worst that could happen would she would join flag brigade. This I will not take responsibility for. She's her own person, she makes her own decisions. It would be like holding Ted Bundy's mother accountable for his murders? No?

Baby remember my name

Cody saw a commercial for the Children's Theater Company in Minneapolis and is adamant on going to their summer camp program. I want him to do it because I can probably enroll him in the day sessions for the whole summer, I can probably talk Bekka into doing it, and then I can drive to Minneapolis every day!! Which means I can see Tyler everyday. It would be similar to what it would be like if we were married, it's like a test run. And, I haven't been able to see him since Brian got back, which is killing me. Especially after how he took care of me after my accident. But after talking to Brian it's clear he'll be giving me the old money excuse (classes are $300 a week for the day classes), saying we can't afford it this year, despite the fact that nothing has changed financially for us and last year we sent the kids to Swift Nature Camp which cost us about $4K per kid, so I don't see how this is different. Except with arts camp, the kids are at home to buffer any interaction I may have to have with Brian.

Belated Mother's Day

Since I was injured the weekend of Mother's Day and Brian was in Asia, he and the kids decided to take me out last night. We went to, ugh, Macaroni Grill, Bekka's choice, and once one of the kids decides where to eat, even thought it's a celebration for you and you being a mom and doing a lot of work and making sure they don't die and giving them food so they can sustain life, and make sure they're clean when they go to school so you don't get a call and they don't get made fun of, and you take them to all their after school activities and you wake up when they want you to even though you're really tired, when they want a certain kind of food, you can't tell them "no". You just have to eat your Penne Rustica and pretend that you're happy when inside all you wanted is a simple, authentic bolognese sauce made by someone who is preferably of Italian descent.

From Resentful Mom

Wrongsentful Mom

A 23 year old woman in New Mexico suffocated her 3 year old son, brought him back to life with CPR, then changed her mind and suffocated him again. Then she buried him beneath the sand of a nearby playground. When asked why she did it, Tiffany Toribio said she did not want him to grow up with no one caring about him, the same way that she had grown up where nobody had cared about her. Which is awful. However, according to CNN.com, family members indicated that she did not express the typical love of a mother for her child.

This got me wondering if I was capable of killing my own children. Don't worry, when push comes to shove, I wouldn't be able to murder them. If I wanted to be done with them I would leave them in the dead of the night. But it's kind of like the psychological freak out you go through when you are standing near a ledge or a drop off and your mind says "JUMP" and you get scared that you just may jump. I get scared that I could, one night, just be so frustrated that I drown them or put a pillow over their tiny faces. I won't. Even though they may have been brought into this world under false pretenses, they deserve the chance to live their life. It's theirs to have, not mine to take. Plus, I would go to jail. But I'd bet you'd be hard pressed to find someone whose never thought about killing another human being. And if you're a lady with murderous tenancies (I'm looking at you Tiffany), of course you're gonna go for your kids who are small, defenseless, and trust you.

Injurycation (pt. 6) - Percodan

My prescription ran out today and with it went the deep seated desire to talk about my sister and get philosophical. To catch you up, I am at home, wearing a leg brace and walking with a cane, putting as little weight on my right leg as I can so it can heal. No repairing necessary. When Tyler dropped me off at home we sat in the car for three hours and talked. I sat in the backseat since I couldn't bend my leg, so it was a little awkward, but really nice. He told me kids weren't a deal breaker. "A deal breaker for what?" I asked. He said "You know" then giggled like a school girl. Then I giggled and added "They're a deal breaker for me". It was like we were in high school again. But this time I'm not breaking up with him.

Brian comes home tomorrow. Not early because of my injury, just cause his assignment in Asia is over. We already have plans to go camping for Memorial Day weekend. I wonder if he even realizes I can't bend my leg. Or maybe he does.

Oh boy.

Injurycation (pt. 5) - Reasons Why

Saturday morning I woke up with a killer knee brace and Tyler asleep in a cot, next to me. Sometimes it can ruin a person to watch them sleep. Drooling on a pillow, snoring, mouth agape, farting. But Tyler sleeps like a doll. Hands under his pillow, head facing me, mouth closed, taking quiet, purposeful breaths. Beautiful.

And sad. Sad because things are so very complicated. And it's all my fault. Everyone's in this mess because of me and my heroic ideas of what a spouse and family should be. Well, to be honest, it's really my sister's fault.

When I was 13, my mother and I returned from voice lessons to find my 17 year old sister Juliette tied to a dining room chair and shot execution style. You can watch as many crime shows as you like. You can not recreate the complete shut down your body experiences when you find someone you love dead. You instantly feel responsible, like there's something you could have done.

My father came home later from his office in downtown Chicago and upon hearing the news, instantly went to work on a heavy drinking problem. The Winnetka police were quickly replaced by the FBI, but ultimately they couldn't build a case against anyone and they were on to the next big crime. My family quickly dissolved after that. My father buried himself in his work at his engineering firm and his bottle at Meier's Tavern and my mother, well, she married another man. It must have been hard to look at my father. Juliette looked just like him.

In college I thought this was my chance to make my own stable family. I chose Brian, who I thought would be reliable, and for the most part I was right. And together we would make a safe, even tempered life for us and some kids. A nice, steady, uneventful, safe life. But I realized, after Tyler came back into my life, that stability is dysfunctional. Nothing in life is stable and to think so is delusional. And what you sacrifice for "stability" is happiness, excitement, and change. I built this prison accidentally, with my own good intentions. And maybe one day, I can break it down. But for right now, I have to live in in-between land.

Injurycation (pt. 4) - Substitute Mom

Before I go on about my wonderful experiences with Dr. Brent (the preferred greeting of the good doctor), let me clarify something. I am not racist. I don’t think that that Dr. Goodarzi was a bad doctor because he is Indian. I think he’s a bad doctor because he’s over worked and can’t muster any bedside manner or diagnosis because he’s been treating people for 6 days straight without sleep. Dr. Brent is not a good doctor because he is white. He’s a good doctor because he’s at a hospital that runs like a well oiled machine and has staff that can assist him or a colleague who can relive him. That being said, the fact that one is Indian and one is white may have contributed to why one is at a well run hospital and one is at an over budget one. That is someone else's racism. Not mine.

That being said, Dr. Brent was amazing!! Not only was he handsome (is there a rule that handsome guys only hang out with other handsome guys?) but really laid back. He actually hugged me and said he had heard so many great things about me. The great things probably not including my marriage to another man and my children who I leave every Friday with a crappy neighbor so I can go to a Spanish class I am not enrolled in so I can spend romantic time with his friend Tyler.

At any rate, he was super cool and said that he wanted to schedule me for surgery to check out the damage. Which meant I would have to stay in the hospital overnight. Which meant that I couldn’t pick up my kids who probably, under the normal rules of society, should be dealt with. Now I don’t know if it’s because Tyler’s in advertising or maybe that he’s all around amazing, but that guy sprung into action. I guess sometimes when clients come to town, TadWare will set up nanny’s for their kids. This is a relatively newish thing they’ve done since the 90’s since there are a lot more women running their own companies (can you imagine the freedom? You could pay someone full time to watch your kids during the day while you go to an office and do something you love. Or at least something that makes you a lot of money!). These "modern ladies" apparently like to travel with their kids but don't want to deal with their kids. It's some sort of mom badge of honor that they can do it all, at least with the help of several other people. Anyway, he called his secretary and had her set up someone for my kids. So while I am being admitted for surgery, a nice stranger named Sally Werman is driving to Kathy’s house to pick up the kids and take them home to explain what happened, make them dinner and tuck them in bed. I hoped that maybe she'd be in her thirties, married but infertile - just the right kind of lady to fall head over mom heels in love with two kids. And they would fall in love with her too and when I got out of surgery Cody and Bekka would be standing at my bedside asking me if they could go live with Ms. Weman. And I'd say "Of course! You deserve to be happy too!".

Injurycation (pt. 3) - The Bad Hospital

The doctor at Hennepin County Medical Center, a one Dr. Sanjay Goodarzi, was delightfully hands off. Bad for my knee, great for a visit from the person you're having an affair with. When Tyler found me, his face went through hundreds of different emotions. Recognition, relief, worry, empathy, and fear. We quickly worked out that if any of the staff got specific with him, he would just say he was my husband. Then, if the doctor or any of the nurses asked his name, he would say he was "Brian". The idea was uncomfortable for the both of us, but what choice did we have (besides him leaving - which is not an option). But we really had nothing to worry about because the doctor never came back. After four hours of waiting and half assed pain management, Tyler called his friend, Dr. Brent McDougal (with a name like that, how could you not be a doctor?) who works at Abbott Northwestern Hospital and arranged for me to be transported to that hospital. I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW THAT WAS POSSIBLE!! When the private transport came for me, in under an hour (!) the hospital staff at Hennepin acted personally offended that I was leaving. But there was something in their fake nice tones that indicated they had probably been through this before.

Injurycation (pt. 2)

So I am in the ambulance and I call Kathy to tell her I've been in an accident. She feigns concern then asks me when I'll be back to pick up the kids. When I remind her that I am calling her from an ambulance she says "Of course, take your time" as if I had just told her I have only one more errand to run. Then she tells me I can reimburse her for the cost of feeding the kids dinner when I am "all done". I'd tell her to take the kids back to the house and let them fend for themselves but I am afraid she'll steal something, so I told her ok and hung up on her while she was making some comment about Cody getting into her shoes. I thought of who else I needed to call. Not Brian, he can't do anything from Asia, and I don't live near my family, so I guess that just leaves Tyler. Whom I called. When I called him I greeted him with a "Hey honey" so that the ambulance driver's wouldn't know his name. It was a little bold since we weren't at the stage yet, but I honestly didn't have a choice. Tyler was so concerned that at first I didn't recognize it as concern but sarcasm, because that's how detached I am from hearing sincere concern. And then you know what that guy did? He left work and met me at the hospital.

(con't tomorrow)

Injurycation (pt. 1)

Bad things always happen to good people. And that good person is me.

Friday looked like a day right out of a romantic comedy. I was supposed to meet Tyler for lunch at Manny's Steakhouse (I like my steak how I like my happiness. Rare.) Then afterwards he was taking me to Lake Harriet for the afternoon. He said he had a very important question to ask the Elf Tree. The Elf Tree is a tiny tree with a door, and if you leave a question in the tree, days later you come back and have your answer. Apparently it was some question I needed to be with him to drop off, which leads me to believe it was about me. Romantic huh? The idea of someone doing something for me not out of holiday obligation was so exciting! So exciting that I started day dreaming about it and rear ended someone on the highway at 45 MPH. I moved the airbag but suddenly realized I couldn't move my right leg. Apparently I tore my PCL - the center ligament in the knee, necessary for things like , you know, moving your leg. Since I've had two humans exit my body I was able to handle the pain ok until the ambulance got there. They loaded me onto a gurney and the cop interviewed me about what happened. I told him I was on the phone with my kid because telling him I was "on my way to see a guy who I like more than my husband" seemed wrong. More wrong than lying to a cop.

From Resentful Mom

(con't tomorrow)

Accidentes

I just got out of the hospital. Was in a car accident. More to come when I can stay awake for a hour.

What's in a name?

Cody's favorite toy is a stuffed Big Bird doll. He named him Marcus Merriweather, and every couple of months, Marcus has a "garage sale" of Cody's things. Cody drags all his DVD's, clothes and folded bedding out, organizes them by category, prices them, then displays them on a folding table that I have to drag out from behind a million other things stacked against the wall in the garage. Cody places Marcus on a stool and then we open the garage door. Cody leaves, then comes walking in to signal the beginning of the event. It's an intense process to watch, as Cody haggles with Marcus about price (prices Cody himself set a half hour earlier) while simultaneously complimenting him on his wares. And in the end, all the things get put back. It's not like Bekka's "tent city" where she gets bored or distracted and just up and walks away from it, leaving sheets and blankets tied to the dining room chairs for me to deal with. No, no, not with Cody. The cleaning up in this pretend scenario is built in. Now that I think about it, most of Cody's pretend scenarios have to do with some sort of cleanup. There's "tornado", where he destroys his room, then comes in to help all his toys put their homes back in order, there's "life coach" where he'll come in and help his teddy Jacob Thurston turn his life around, and "maid" where he just plain cleans his room. He has to time all these right because he likes for them to all be wrapped up before 4PM so he can watch Oprah . He always makes it happen.

E-lderly

My 54 year old father just got e-mail last week. The upside is that I can "talk" to him once a week, fulfilling my obligations as a child, without actually talking to him. The downside is he's latched onto forwards like nobody's business. I usually just delete them but he's gotten good about making them look like they're not forwards anymore. I'm not sure how, but they look, at first glance, like a personal message. When you look closer, there's no address in the to: field. Anyway, today he sent me an email with no salutation or closing, just quotes about housework. I find it generally off putting to get housecleaning forwards from a man whose idea of cleanliness is waiting until things get so bad they need to be thrown away. Anyway, here they are. I think they're a good representation of the deepness of our relationship.

Anybody who doesn't know what soap tastes like never washed a dog.
- Franklin P. Jones
The classes that wash most are those that work least.
- Gilbert Keith Chesterton, 1874 - 1936
We should all do what, in the long run, gives us joy, even if it is only picking grapes or sorting the laundry.
- Elwyn Brooks White, 1899 - 1985

Spring Cleaning

Today is the start of my official spring cleaning. I know it's almost summer, but with Brian being gone and my overall busyness with another man and children, it's been tough to find time. To ensure it all gets done and this overwhelming task isn't burdening me anymore, I am enlisting/bribing the kids for help. The good news is kids are cheap labor, and for $5 a piece I can get them to do things that I couldn't hire a cleaning lady to do for $100. It's a real bargain. And they usually do a real good job. As a matter of fact, if they do as good of a job as they did last year, I am considering making this "pay-for-clean" deal a weekly occurrence. Until Brian gets back. He's of the mindset that kids should be kids, but I think, look, if they want to do some hard labor for money, isn't that a good for them too?

So.. tired.. can.. barely...type

Tonight after Cody and Bekka were asleep, I went to the liquor store and bought myself a 6 pack of Bud Light in the bottle. I sat on the back porch and just listened to the silent suburbs as I drank my watery beer and read another infuriating ladies magazine. Ahh, life is disappointing.

Happy Mother's Day

Since Denise is leaving us on Tuesday, I thought it would be nice to take her to a Mother's Day dinner tonight after she suggested that we should take her to Mother's Day dinner tonight. I made reservations for Buca Di Beppo, which is where Brian e-mailed me to take her. Well, Denise was insulted, which I totally understand. Offering to take someone to Buca Di Beppo for a celebration is like punching them in the mouth then force feeding them mediocre gnocci. I hate everything about that place. When I told her it was Brian's idea, she laughed and told me to "do better". So I made reservations for D'Amica Cucina in downtown Minneapolis.

The restaurant was amazing. I had the Butter poached chicken with seasonal mushrooms and chive risotto, Cody had the roasted lingcod, Bekka had the pancetta wrapped berkshire pork tenderloin, and Denise took down two dishes - spaghetti alla chitarra and the veal tenderloin. We barely spoke. Each moment our mouths hung empty we'd become lost in thought, reminiscing about the moment the food was in our mouth and getting excited for the next bite. A sea of calm washed over us and carried us through our deserts of truffle cake, mascarpone cheesecake torte, and frozen lime zabagilone napoleon. It was amazing. We were all getting along and the most insane part was that I was actually enjoying myself. Because no one was talking, it was like I was eating this marvelous food all by myself. The check came ($156!) and I tipped 20% (even though Brian only usually tips 15%). We walked slowly to the van, in silence, happy and full. We got in, the kids buckled up, Denise settled in, not saying a word. I turned on the classical music station. It was perfect.

And 40 minutes into the car ride, Bekka threw up pork tenderloin and three distinct deserts, erasing the fond memories I had just created.

Breaking up is hard to do

I threw away my last bag of Pepperidge Farm Milano mints. Quitting those things was like quitting smoking when I found out I was pregnant with Bekka. I'm sorry, forced to quit smoking when I found out I was pregnant. But quitting the cookie habit was 100% my decision. I am really, really, really good about eating healthy, it's about the only thing I have any control over, but those delicious, airy, fresh tasting cookies lure me in with their siren song. I'll buy a bag at the store, eat three in the car, then quickly throw the bag out the window onto Weaver Lake Rd. like they're on fire. I feel terrible about throwing them out the car window, but I'd feel worse about taking down a whole bag, "Bekka style" (she gets her compulsive eating habits from my side of the family). But today, today was my last day. I don't want to be the white lady sitting in the parking lot of Cub Foods, scarfing down cookie delights in her mini van while her kids watch. I don't want to be that lady anymore.

Girl Fight!

My "best friend"(or "the only female in a 50 mile radius who I can stand for more than 10 minutes"),Kristie Snidelou, is mad at me. She's been calling me, I assume because she's going thru a "needier phase" and needs me to hold a cell phone to my ear for an hour while I do housework and utter intermittent "Really?"'s. I just don't have the energy to deal with her and Denise, who by the way hit rock bottom yesterday with EBay when this item (photo below), an Art Nouveau Period Milk Glass Ink Stand & Inkwell, was sniped from her at the last minute. She lost her shit, yelling and screaming and dropping fbombs, said something mumbly like a gypsy curse, and that was the end of EBay. So, I am back to dealing with her 24/7 and she wants to take us all to a nice lunch today, which means no Tyler (again!). Last sidetrack, so I set up a new e-mail account on gmail, it's rachtyl@gmail.com. It's a special account where he can send e-mails to me!! Cute! I have to clear my history every day, but it feels safer than using my email.

Anyway, so Kristie, not being the most understanding or objective person, got super mad when I would text her back instead of calling her back , you know, just to let her know Denise is here and I would call her when she was gone. So then Kristie would call me the next day, leave a short, angry message to "please call me back", then I would text her, then the next day it would happen like that all over again. I guess my texting instigated her annoying behavior, culminating in this e-mail:

Rachel,

So you have time to text me but you don't have time to call me back? I need you right now and you're being a bad friend. I guess when you "have some time", call me and we can talk about this. I am really disappointed in you. You're not the type of person to let friends down.

Kristie Snidelou

The fact that she signed with her full first name is especially infuriating, it just oozes authoritarian attitude. Like she's reprimanding me.

I'll just ignore her until I am done with Denise, then I'll take Mrs. Kristie Snidelou to lunch and apologize. I may not like her, but I can't dump my friends just because they're demanding and I have nothing in common with them.

(until Tyler and I move in New York together).

From Resentful Mom