The ex

A friend of mine was gossipping yesterday. For some reason she had heard alot about my ex lately. He's gone off the deep end. He's become very controlling.

His new wife states that she has almost no privacy. They work at the same place. When either one of them is off work, he insists that they be together. When church people come over to visit her, he has to be in the same room to hear what they are telling her.

And even worse, I finally know why he refuses to pick up my son for visitation. He's mad at me that the divorce/visitation didn't go his way. He blames me for a long string of things. He talks about the fact that he wasn't allowed to adopt my son. My son coming to visit is the only thing that is left that he can control. Basically he rationalizes his refusal saying that if I had wanted him to be my ex's father, I would have let him adopt him. It's a very convoluted logic.

I have always said that when I married him he was slightly off, but nothing terrible. Over the course of our marriage things went down hill. He became less and less able to cope with social situations. His understanding of mores of behavior diminished. In the conversation I had yesterday I found out exactly how true that was. My friend, who knew him during our marriage, confirmed, yes, he's loosing it. He's going crazy and driving his new wife crazy with him. He's unstable, and has lost touch with reality.

Why did Daddy leave?

"Mommy, you don't love Daddy any more, do you?" my son asked me as we ate lunch.

"No, I don't." It was a sad statement of a fact. The children still love their father, but I don't. Divorce is a sad, hard reality.

"Mommy, why did you and Daddy divorce?" my talkative little girl asked. "Daddy says it's because you didn't treat Aaron and Aubry good."

Yes, the step-kids were always a point of dissension for us. When we got married neither one of them lived with us. And it appeared that they would always live with their mother. They came for holidays, and that was okay. It was tons of work for me because my ex wasn't an involved parent. I didn't know what the kids wanted to eat until I had already set it before them, and my ex yelled at me for expecting them to eat that.

Later each of them came to live with us. My step son, Aaron was the first. He was a very loving, gentle child of 5 who constantly wet his pants. He was distraught that his mother allowed him to live with his father.

"Give him chores," was the order from my ex. "Make him do the vacuuming, it's an easy chore and he can do it."

So suddenly I was the task master of a strange child. I had to oversee Aaron getting his chores done. It was a year long struggle before we both learned how to do this. During that time there were some awful arguments. I had no clue how to motivate a 5 year old child, and my ex grew increasingly frustrated with my inability to complete a relatively easy task.

But after a year, things evened out. I began to know this child, and truly love him. He was a sweet kid, with a very easy disposition. He joked and laughed, and was a lot of fun to be around. Chores were still hard on both of us.

And then suddenly it was decided that since I did such a good job with Aaron, I should have at Aubry for a while. Aubry was 9 when she came to live with us. She back talked, and drove her mother insane. Homework was a struggle, and basic tasks were impossible. Since I did such a great job getting her brother under control, and making the wetting accidents disappear, maybe I could turn this mouthy, moody kid into the delight her brother had become.

She moved into my house angry. Angry at her mother for giving up on her. Angry at me for supposedly being the solution to her problems. Angry at her father for divorcing her mom. She was dead set to prove I was not the miracle worker. And boy did she prove it! I thinks she ran away 2 times, and once we called the police to help find her.

I had no clue what to do with a distraught 9 year old. What do you do when a child starts throwing things at you. My ex said, make her do the vacuuming, her brother did it good. Instead she tore the bedroom apart, throwing clothes everywhere, flipping a bed over, and ripping up sheets.

Needless to say, my ex couldn't understand how it happened. He blamed me for everything.

So, Daddy has told my two that the reason we got a divorce was because I couldn't treat Aaron and Aubry right.

"Sweetheart, it's true," I said in a soft voice. "Mommy didn't know what Aaron and Aubry liked. I didn't know Aaron didn't like yogurt, and I tried to serve him yogurt."

Both of my kids looked at their food.

"Aaron doesn't like yogurt?" one of them asked.

"Nope! And I tried to give him yogurt. Daddy didn't tell me that Aaron didn't like yogurt. I didn't know, so I did it wrong."

Each kid looked at their plate, thinking about this. So Mommy was admitting she did wrong. Daddy told the truth. But Mommy wasn't a bad Mommy, I could see the look of relief on their faces.

"And Aubry was like you, sweet heart, she didn't like to get up in the morning, and doesn't want breakfast. I tried to get her up, and it made her angry. But Daddy didn't tell me, so I tried to get her up. If I had known, it would have done it differently."

I could see each kid nod to themselves. And then they each perked up. They had the answer they needed and could feel at peace about it.

Later as I thought about it, I realized I had said the most perfect thing. I didn't contradict Daddy. I didn't force my kids to choose between which version of the story they wanted to believe. Instead I stuck to one story, and wove the truth back into it. I didn't make one parent the hero, but instead spread the blame on both of us. And I told them the truth in a way that made perfect sense to them. They each know what it's like to be served food they don't like, to have their routines interrupted.

As the conversation ended I could see each kid brighten. There was a peace, and joy to them. I thank my Heavenly Father for such amazing, inspired words that came out of my mouth.

Peptobismal Princess

My daughter is quite a fashionista. Being that she's six years old that means her ideas of what goes together are very skewed. If it's bright and colorful, she wants to wear it all. I do mention to her when things clash. Half the time she'll go change, but other days she'll choose to wear the atrocious outfit.

Today she came out wearing some pink Capri jeans with a pink sweat shirt. I kind of stopped to look at her. As she climbed into her chair at the table she declared, it all matches! I nodded, sighing to myself. Yep, it all matched!

As she got out of the car with her pink backpack I was impressed. And it wasn't a good impression. Wow, it's all peptobismal pink!

Peace

For the last 11 months I've been on anti-anxiety meds. When my divorce was stalled, it really sent me over the edge. I began having panic attacks. One night I sat in my bedroom simply hyperventilating as the kids tore the house apart around me. There was simply too much I felt I needed to do. I couldn't do it all. And the fact that I was trapped in this limbo state called separation made the stresses of single motherhood ten times worse.

Anti-anxiety medicine made a huge difference. I calmed down, and got my life going again. Instead of being stressed out, I was productive for the first time in about 6 years. With my ex-husband I was always on edge, wondering what was going to set him off. I never was allowed to relax. Until the medicine got in me, I didn't realize how long I had been going like this. Once my mind was allowed to calm down it dawned on me that my life had been running in panic mode during the majority of my marriage.

The medicine allowed me to revisit old neural pathways, to find my non-panicked ways of dealing with life. It shut down a freeway that had been running in my brain, one that was creating a huge traffic jam. The detours were found. And I built new ways of dealing with life.

When the divorce happened I asked my doctor about coming off the medicine. The biggest stressor was gone, and so I wanted to be free of this addictive medicine. But the doctor said no, he would like me to stay on it for longer, just to insure that I really have healed. In September though I began to notice that my ability to deal with normal stressor had seriously diminished. At one point I even felt myself beginning to panic. I could feel the physical sensations, like I had gotten myself back on that tortured freeway.

I reduced my dose. My doctor would have a cow if he found out. But anyone familiar with the history of digitalis knows that sometimes the more effective dose is the smaller dose.

And the difference has been astounding. Peace. I have peace. There are clean clothes all over my front room, my children's bedroom looks like a tornado hit it. I am at rest. I am not stressed out. It's a miracle. Daily I am finding new and better ways to deal with the kids.

We have a camping trip this week-end. What with Halloween, I haven't talked alot about it. And I haven't stressed myself to the end of my rope either. We might make it up there for Friday and Saturday night, or we might make only one night. It doesn't matter. I'm not pressuring myself to do everything. I'm accepting what I'm capable of, and coming to terms with who I am.

Not always succeeding, mind you. Don't talk to me about Thanksgiving and going to Oregon, that's still on the stress fest bus.

Peace, my peace I leave with you, not as world knows peace. Jesus's words are becoming more true in my life. I've noticed that my prayers with the children are gaining more soul. I've given the sacrifice of prayer, praying with them when I didn't want to. And now I'm reaping the rewards. My kids listen to me pray as my spirit rejoices in this new gift, peace.

ARGH!! Halloween!

Canibal pumpkin
Originally uploaded by Sunflower Central

I think this pictures captures the spirit of this Halloween the best. If you click on it you will be directed to my photo stream, and you can see our many other pictures.

We were the Pirate family this year, and had a total blast with it! Swords raised, the kids went screaming, demanding candy. Our pumpkins were even gruesome. I actually carved three though you won't see the last one. There is Mr. Worm head, who got high points from local kids for gross out value. Also grossed out my co-workers when he went to work with me. The Cannibal pumpkin seems to be a favorite with adults. I wish I had taken a few shots of him lit up because he was simply amazing glowing with the flickering candle. And then there was the gourd attacked one. It has bumpy gourds sticking out it, kind of like weird colored pustules. Really strange!

Responsibility

I came home to a message on my answering machine. "Hello, this is your daughter's teacher. I'm calling you because she hasn't turned in her field trip money, or her permission slip. I would really like her to be able to go on the field trip."

Visions of my child with a $5 bill clutched in her hand flash thru my head. I know she had both the items at one point.

"What happened to the money, and the permission slip?" I ask her.

"I don't know," the normally talkative child shrugs her shoulders.

It's a trip to the zoo! Does she have any clue how much fun it would be? No, of course she doesn't. She's six years old. Her colorful scarf, and her stuffed dinosaur are the most important things in her world. Right now she's worried that her brother is going to go pick up the plastic lizard she was playing with. A $5 bill is Mom's worry, not her.

This morning I ran into talk to the teacher for a minute.

"Can she live with the consequences?" I ask. "Is there something in place if she doesn't turn it in?" The teacher nods. She and I have discussed my daughter's lack of maturity. As much as she can, she refuses to take responsibility. She is a brilliant kid, but she doesn't act her age. She is easily the smartest kid in class, but her grades don't always show it.

The teacher promised to force my daughter to go thru her desk and back pack.

I feel like crying because I know she's not going to get to go. But it's better that she learn now then later with bigger items. I feel so terrible.

Bad things do happen the first time

The first time a cop catches you speeding, he gives you a ticket. Doesn't matter how much you cry. The first time you try drugs you might die from an overdose. Or as a friend of mine learned, the first time you accidentally switch needles, you may get turn up HIV positive.

But kids are programmed to think they can get away with something at least twice. I'm warning you, stop jumping on that couch. What did I already say? Okay that's it, ten cents! I even do it.

But tonight my son had to pay for a first infraction. I walked into my bathroom to find my box of essential oils on the ground. The box showed signs of being rolled on the ground, and my numerous little bottles were in disarray within the box. On opening the box I quickly realize an oil had spilled. Then I found the tiny crushed bottle. It was a total waste, the glass bottom crushed in, probably from being rolled around. And this is a favorite oil, one I use often. I was sickened. Total waste of something I love dearly The normal delicate aroma was sticky sweet.

I explained to my son that he would have to pay to replace this item. I looked up the cost online, about $12. We agreed that the amount would be paid by Saturday breakfast. He knows the drill. If it's not paid breakfast will wait for him until he gets it done. I bet it will take about 2 hours for him to earn the money.

He might get into it again. But for the moment he's working on folding the mini-blinds.