Superstition

We stood waiting for the brides to return from their 2nd jaunt of picture taking.

Me: I remember when I was a flower girl, and I was so hungry waiting to get pictures done and over with. When I got married, I didn’t any one to suffer like that, so the ex and I met with the photographer two days before the wedding to take as many couple wedding pictures we could.

A bridesmaid: Really? You were ok with that?

Me: Sure. The ex was worried about seeing me in the wedding dress before the wedding, but I’m not superstitious. What’s the worst that could- damnit!

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Carbs and Calories

All day Tornado E had been saying “carbs and calories” to anything that was bad. Often with a shake of the head.

We sat at dinner at Panda Express eating Americanized- fast food Chinese. The boys eating their favorite offerings but mentioning they wished I would cook more at home. As we were in California for a wedding, it really wasn’t an option that night.

Tornado E: Mommy, why are grown ups afraid of carbs and calories?

For years, my boys have been exposed to their father’s dieting habits and my mother’s comments (to me, to my dad, about herself). Long ago I resolved that I would never “diet” in front of them. I would model healthy eating habits. I would not do fade diets, yo-yo diets, weird dieting concoctions, or deprive myself. I promised to be careful what I said about my body and my weight, to monitor what I said about their bodies and other people’s bodies. I would not fat shame or thin shame within my boys’ hearing. They heard enough negative body comments from others.

I don’t want my boys growing up with body or food issues. I don’t want them to stay away from food for their body images. I don’t want them to look in the mirror and have demons criticize their bodies. I want them to be happy and healthy.

Me: Well, baby, many adults don’t run around and have fun like children, so they have to worry about what they eat instead. Many adults are not happy about their bodies. Sometimes they have to worry because of their health. Sometimes they just don’t like their bodies. And that’s sad.

Tornado E: Yes, that’s sad.

Pause.

Tornado E: But not you, Mommy. You like your body. You’re not afraid of carbs and calories.

I smiled and bit into a piece of orange chicken. The demons that lurk behind my mirrors were safely locked away from my boys. Maybe one day I won’t meet them in dressing room mirrors or when I take a closer look at my outfits.

Fake it until you make it.

Vacation Recap

The weekend of the wedding began our fall break. I did a mini-vacation with the boys.

1. Highways make the drive so much smaller. But you get to see interesting things.
2. The Salton Sea is creepy, isolated, stinky, and creepy. I’ve got to do more research on it. Tornado E said it was something out of his nightmares.
3. My body reminded me that I’m no longer 21 and can’t eat fast food several days in a row. Next time I’ll save more money for real restaurants.
4. Tornado S left his toys, books, and DVD choices in Tucson. We discovered this 45 mins out of town. I decided to buy all the boys a toy and Tornado S a DVD at Walmart in California.
5. It’s so awesome to see, hang out, and catch up with old friends. It was so sad not to have more time to hang out longer.
6. Everyone reads every day. Those are the rules.
7. Tornado A was thrilled to share a bed with me.
8. I think I can do this single parent thing on vacation. I just need more money. Like a lot more. I’m not greedy, just really, really poor.
9. When we got home, we still had several days together. So we did the zoo, worked on Cub Scout stuff, and worked on school work.
10. Tornado S likes being dragged across the finish line of school work. He fails to realize how much he’s missing. Like movies and crafts. And ice cream.
11. Tornado E built a fire and grilled hot dogs and bratwurst for dinner one night. For Cub Scouts. With Papi’s supervision.
12. Tornado A has a new baby. A baby narwhale. Because it was the closet thing he could find to a unicorn at Walmart. It joins the baby unicorn, the tiny baby unicorn, the mountain lion cub, and the leopard cub. So cute.
13. We have decided on Halloween costumes.
14. I filled everyone’s tummy with fruits and vegetables to make up for the 5 days of fast food.
15. After 9 days with the boys, it was hard to let their dad take them.

A Wedding

Two weekends ago, the boys and I were in the wedding of my very best friend. I’m happy for her. And thrilled for her. And I will destroy her wife if she hurts my friend.

A few things from that weekend.

1. My boys were A-mazing. They helped when asked. They played and watched movies to stay away. They did great in the wedding.
2. No bridesmaid loves her dress. No matter how hard the bride works at that end.
3. Mine is not to question why. Mine is to do or die.
4. Two brides. Two brides. Do you know what that means? Imagine a girl who has always wanted to be a bride and gets to plan her very own magical wedding. Now times it by two. I’ve never been so glad not to be a lesbian.
5. I was never one of those girls who dreamed of a magical wedding day. I do not understand it. But I know I’m odd.
6. Everyone’s emotions run high around weddings. Understand this. Forgive.
7. Being in a wedding is a selfless act. Understand this. Forgive.
8. You’re going to get hurt; you might as well see it coming. Understand this. Forgive.
9. The kids I went to school with are really awesome.
10. Being in a wedding party with other moms means that they get parenting and will help you out. Like cutting the nails of your screaming 8yr old, who has never been harmed in the pursuit of short nails.
11. Brides, don’t micromanage; delegate. Be specific as you want, but delegate…. like almost everything.
12. One of the maid of honors asked to help me with my hair. Holy crap! It was witchcraft!
13. Is it a thing now that wedding photographers take 99% of pictures of the couple? I was asking for all sorts of pictures of other people with or without me at my wedding day. Of course, I’m odd.
14. I had to get my shoes pre-approved. I should’ve demanded to pre-approve the bride’s shoes.
15. I know it’s trendy. But the string of lights through the olive grove was magical. Having antique-looking furniture through the olive grove was magical. Goats? That’s just quirky.
16. Having the kids plates be just kid-friendly food and brought out before dinner was a great idea. Also the kid goody boxes were an awesome idea.
17. Tornado E hated his trendy hipster outfit but decided it was ok later on.
18. Tornado S was meant to carry a cool sign that read, “Here Comes the Brides.” We forgot about it until two minutes before we walked. Damn. (Delegate.)
19. Tornado A kept asking me to dance with him.
20. I forgot to get a picture with my boys. Damnit.
21. I wish my best friend and her wife the most happiest of years. I wish that they weather the storms and enjoy the smooth sailing that comes after the storms. I wish them love.

What’s new?

I start a job and look what happens to my blogging. I knew it. I absolutely knew it.

I’m a long term sub, which means I can’t breathe the word “sub” or the kids will eat me for lunch. Luckily, I’m a tough meal to swallow. I’ve spent the last few days hammering the class back in to shape. With Fall Break next week, I expect my job will take longer. I’ve spent the last several nights thinking of how I can …. manage….my …..class…..

I’m teaching math. Not my strongest subject. But I’m an adult, so I do algebra every day. I can do this. I plan to just follow the book. “Make sure you follow the state standards,” remarked my principal. Dude, you know my background; you know my crappy (oh so very crappy, as in half of what a starting teacher makes) pay. I’ll follow the textbook because that should be effective since the school board picked it.

I’m hoping things will settle down and ease up. I hope I can do right by these kids.

Empty

The house feels empty. No screaming; no yelling. No whining; no fighting. No video games; no cartoons. No toys- scratch that. There are toys scattered through the house. I let them swim to the last possible second, instead of making them pick up toys.

But without my boys running amok, the house feels empty.

In theory, I could go out and see a movie right now. I can go out with friends, grab dinner or drinks and dessert. (You know, if I wasn’t poor and unemployed.) In theory, I could sleep in tomorrow. I can read in bed. I can have ice cream for lunch.

But I would give it all up for more time with my boys.

The hardest part is when I don’t get to talk to them. Every night they are at their dad’s house, I call them at 7pm to ask them about their day and to tell them I love them and to wish them goodnight. Even if I’m out with friends. Even if I’m out of town. 5 minutes to know my boys are fine and to let them know I love them.

More often than not, the ex doesn’t answer his phone. Some times he lets them call me back. Most of the time, he doesn’t. When I had more money, I bought them a cheap little flip phone with monthly prepaid minutes, but they often did not answer.

After two years, it still sucks so very much not to talk to the boys. After two years, the ex still doesn’t think it’s important, even though we agreed upon the phone calls in mediation and it’s in our divorce agreement. At least, I got to be with them after school for a few hours.

It’s harder after having the boys for a long stretch. I had them for nine full days because the ex had a business trip. I’m grateful to have them so long. It reminds me of the first three years of the separation when the boys were always with me.

Tomorrow I’ll bug my friends with texts and calls, asking to go out. I’ll wash the sheets and pick up the toys. I’ll scout the bathroom and go through the piles of weekly school paperwork. I’ll get the last few things for our trip next week. I’ll figure out a bridesmaid hairstyle I can do. I’ll take the Cub Scout volunteer classes and tests. I’ll brush up on 7th grade math and prep some cool activities. I’ll write poetry and edit the novel.

Tonight I feel like eating chocolate and staring at the TV.

Or eat chocolate as I do laundry and clean my room.

Because I just realized I have a lot to do.

We all want ice cream

Me: Where are you going?

Tornado E stood at the door, holding the door open.

Tornado E: We should get ice cream. You owe me ice cream.

Me: For what?

Tornado E: I got a 96% on my reading test.

Tornado S struggles with spelling test. A B gets him a candy bar. An A gets him ice cream. A 100% gets him any dessert at the French bakery. Half Tornado S’s problem is writing fast and neat.

Tornado E has no such problems. He has a laziness problem.

Me: Uh-huh.

Tornado E: And a while back I got 100% on my spell pre-test. So let’s get ice cream.

At this point, Tornado A was next to him smiling.

Me: And who’s paying?

Tornado A ran out of the room and ran back with his wallet.

Tornado A: I WILL!!!

He ran out the door. I ran after him.

Me: Wait! We have to eat dinner first! It’s ready in 5 minutes!

Thank goodness I had the keys. I think he would’ve left us all.

Changes

So I got a job. As a teacher. But with a mandatory 8-5 schedule. Which is nice I am forced to work 40 hours. Which is horrible that I can’t be with my kids during the afternoon.

And then there’s the commute. Which in the grand scheme of things isn’t really that bad. It’s under an hour. Supposedly just over 30 minutes. But that’s another 30 minutes not being with the kids.

And then the next three weeks my parents, The Friendly Giant, and my grandma (AKA my first line of defense in childcare) will be gone. Yea. I nearly forgotten what it was like to not have a support network. No. I didn’t. It sucked. This sucks. I luckily still have a support network of awesome friends to help. Fingers crossed on the ex’s help.

So in four weeks, we’ll see how everything is going. Perhaps I’ll love this, and the boys will adjust fine, and everything will start getting better. Or not. Or I might be in a middle of a move to somewhere I have reservations about, but yea that place between a rock and a hard place.

So I’m going to dig in some time to write here and follow other bloggers. Because I need this space. And I like the bloggers I met so far. It would be nice to meet more.

So wish me luck. I’ll see you around.

Summer?

Summer ends this week.

What?

Where did it go?

It was here a minute ago.

I want to go do something A-MAZING with the boys on their last day.

I’m not sure what.

On the other hand, I’ve been scouring YouTube for the perfect scene for the post I’ve been working on. . . for . . . um. . .days.

Also I have no idea what a Gif is. I do. But not really. Magic. And how to make one. Magic and trolls and gnomes.

Back to looking for this perfect video. . . .

I’m a Comedian

The ex dropped off the boys after their bedtime. Tornado E was wearing a white shirt. It was an emergency shirt. I never buy white shirts. Because they attract dirt. Tornado E was splattered with chocolate all down his shirt. He still had chocolate stains on the corner of his mouth, dribbling down to his chin.

Tornado E: Mommy, you were right.

Me: Say that again. Hold on; let me get my phone so I can record that.

Tornado E: Mommy, you’re funny. (No, I’m dead serious. I need the proof.) You were right. A brownie fudge sundae is too much to eat.

Me: You look like you’re an undead thing covered in blood.

Tornado E laughed.

Tornado E: I look like I ate chocolate.

Me: Let me take a picture. Don’t wash yet.

I snapped a picture.

Tornado E: Mommy, when you put it online, write, “I didn’t eat your chocolate cake.”

So I typed it into the post. Then I typed, as Tornado E read over my shoulder out loud to his brothers, “Me: Seriously, he looks like the undead covered in gore. But a zombie or a vampire?”

The boys broke into fits of laughter.

Tornado E: Mommy, you’re so funny.

Tornado S: You’re hilarious. (pause) But not as funny as Daddy.

Me: WHAT?! I’m like so much funnier than your Daddy. Like by tons.

The boys laughed more.

Tornado E: No, Daddy is funnier.

Me: Oh my god. Obviously I have been laxed in your comedic education. I’ll have to fix that. Movies. Music. Videos. Because seriously, I am so much funnier than your dad.

The boys: No.

By this time, I was gently pushing them up the stairs.

Me: Yes! And smarter. And prettier. Most definitely taller. And so much younger. So, so much younger.

They kept laughing.

Tornado E: Mommy, you’re hilarious.

Damn straight.