eaglesnest

sigh

sigh

sigh

Wonder what I am doing? Listening to the original cast recording of Camelot (the movie, not Broadway) and being melancholy — “never let it be forgot, for one brief shining moment” — always chokes me up. Maybe it’s how damned young Richard Harris was & how absolutely handsome he was.

Of course, it is also because it is a love story, and tonight (as happens a few nights here & there) I’d really like a love story again.

And as I am googling stuff and following tangents I found my way from Richard Harris to Richard Bach and I get angry and disappointed.

I, as so many of his {& Leslie’s} readers, was devastatedly heartbroken when they split. And however unfair (or not) we blamed Richard. And right now, tonight I am ticked at him again. What the frick is this ? Maybe I am exhausted and emotional, but c’mon — I can NOT get this to do anything.

Why were we all so angry & hurt? If you do not know I will simply tell you — theirs was a love story we told ourselves was unlike any other. Soul Mates . Beyond. Something we dreamed of attaining and damn if Richard with all his flaws (he laid them bare to us) could still manage to make it work with the wonderful Leslie, well, we the common folk had a chance for true love , too. There was hope.

I learned of the dissolution of the Bach - Parrish marriage just after a crushing end of my own relationship with the one I believed was “the One.” I was already in a low spot about true love and all that “crap” and to have seen a new book by Richard {from which it was immediately evident there was another woman in his life} had put me over an edge I had until then managed to avoid falling off of.

I remember sitting at my desk, in an office with an ocean view, reading his website and having it confirmed. I had been spending my days alone trying to find a place (not just to live, but to exist - a job, a niche, anything) for myself back here in Encinitas and my nights alone crying.

Then I had no longings for a new love story. I had no desire to ever allow myself to be heartbroken or destroyed. Many many things changed in the next few months. Among them was a tentative new relationship that I kept at arm’s length and my mother’s need to be cared for.

Fast forward and here I am - having just found a place (in all the ways - home, work, friends) for myself and I am alone again. That tentative relationship had softened me, had caused me to open up again, and it had withered and faded.

I am alone again. I do not want to ever be destroyed or be at the end of anything I believed so strongly in as I had “the One” (or to be very very honest - any of the very few I had believed were potentially the One). But I do want, I long to be open to another opportunity. I want another love story. And I have learned something which does put a huge lump in my throat as I type and tears in my eyes, but it is a truth and I have sadly and wisely learned it. They ARE love stories. And the really really perfect ones are like the ones in Camelot, and Richard {bless his mess anyway} & Leslie — they are heartbroken tales of love which can not survive forever. The only spot for “happily ever aftering” is in our souls.

The living situation is not getting better.

Roommate & her son are not adjusting or trying to make things work.

My kids & I are making all sorts of routine changes to help accommodate them & their “schedule” and the chaos which ensues if the boys eat a meal together while the roommate is present or attempt to work out being two small boys living under the same roof.

- note — when I am the only adult present the boys can & do eat calmly together and can & do go to bed at the same time and stay in bed and go to sleep & we talk through any sharing issues or what-have-yous like civilized folk

Today a question asked by a 5 yr old was misheard and misconstrued and the roommate cracked, just how hard and how fully is yet to be seen, but among her words were that they were moving out ……

My work week was already curtailed by the power outage of Tuesday which lasted 12 hours plus and by a pre-arranged visit with the magic baby yesterday & the rest of that afternoon being consumed with trying to address the toy problem and the fact that everything that belongs to me or my 2 children is piled into my one bedroom [[as we wait for the roommate to move out of her bedroom and into her son’s bedroom (as per her suggestion, mind you)]] and therefore we tried to organize and manage so we can actually use the room since we end up stuck there for so much of our day.

And now it really seems as if the only way I will ever work is if I move my office BACK upstairs to my bedroom I now share with my son, the dog and everything that belongs to my daughter.

Yes … I am a bit stressed & am having a hellacious time trying to focus on major work piling up.

Unfortunately, the honest answer to the benign question my son asked my daughter “why don’t you like —- (the roommate’s son) when he is wild?” is that he is seriously affecting my work and my peace of mind, my daughter is not a happy camper to be in the midst of this drama, my dog has become justifiably nervous and upset around a child who torments him and my son can’t understand why his little buddy causes so much upheaval and I can’t keep juggling all of that and survive.

It isn’t so much that we do not like this child — we can not live around this child and the aftermath he causes .– we do not like when he is wild, Sam I am, not here or there, not anywhere.

I spent my entire day scrubbing down the new house - every possible surface. Before we actually got to the house we needed some cleaning supplies & because I am really serious here I bought products from a new Green line. I LOVE this stuff!  The new house smells of coconut and citrus, plus we also used great Castile Soap from TJ’s.
That stuff smells like peppermint! And the Trader Joe’s  Next To Godliness Cedarwood & Sage Multipurpose Cleaner only added to how awesome the house smells & how deep down clean it is.

My arms were so sore after a 5 1/2 hour marathon. I scrubbed every shelf and door of every cupboard in the kitchen. I washed the oven racks & the burners on the range. I attacked the bathtub and the shower, every inch of the vanities & medicine cabinets. Swiffered the floors upstairs & a third of the stairs.

I am very ready now to pack up some stuff and start the process of hauling loads over with the help of an army of great friends! Tomorrow morning I am taking over about 3 crates of stuff & a tonne of toys & then another pal is driving us back for another quick run.

I need to charge the camera battery so i can document the slow & steady progress from empty house/clean slate to our new lives!

there are many little moments in the day of a work at home, work a little out of the home SAHM — there is the walking of the dog, the changing of the sheets as the 5 year old still has over-night bladder control issues, the ant invasion which strategically split into two fronts across the kitchen over night, there is the maneuvering into a 5 minute shower, don’t forget the mini-chocolate chip pancakes with fresh sliced bananas AND strawberries AND powdered sugar, there is the business phone call and working out details with the new landlord and you have just made it to 10 am!

Not much work work managed to get squeezed in, yet.

Write one of the blogs, shoot e-mails back & forth with one Boss - and cuz life ain’t easy those HAVE to be from a secondary e-mail as the primary and his primary suddenly are not on speaking terms, read important info from another boss, prepare interview questions based on reading for very important first interview , update info on the bizz website , deal with the glitches of it not publishing what it says it saved and file a time sensitive report with one teeny scrap of paper missing so you fudge it - all before lunch is served, which you have to make, of course.

Send boy & bigger boy out. Walk dog again, find uniform and something warm to wear after work, post one more web thingee, try to get Mac Afee to actually install all components without telling you they are incompatible with each other - they are ALL Mac Afee! And if you leave NOW you can catch the earlier bus to have enough time to grab lunch before clocking in.

Arrive at j-o-b , early early. Make an hourly week chart of what you should be doing to optimize your time so you can in fact juggle one out of the house j-o-b, two blogging gigs , a report writing gig, two editing job and kick your career into high gear as an editor and writer .

Breathe .

Allow for 17 hour day - 7 am till midnight as you are awake that long {or longer anyway} - on your chart. Realize that as long as ants do not invade the new kitchen, as long as dog has his new yard, as long as you lean on the other mama & your friends it is very doable. Schedule in library and park days so you can use the WiFi and the boys can entertain themselves.

Take advantage of the time when no one else is awake to edit & write. WRITE THOSE TIMES IN WITH RED! Explain to all the others that those are office hours and should be treated as if you are in your office, NOT at home. Breathe .

Maximize time when there is only one boy by scheduling knitting time then. BREATHE again. Keep focused. Delegate. Remember to print chore charts and arrange that cooking night so that meals are pre-planned & prepared ahead of time. {I scheduled in bread and baked goods baking time, too.}

Breathe deeply knowing you are NOT doing this alone ever again.

Home from work, deal with lost dog cuz no one pays attention and doors are left wide open, be the meanie who makes the toys be put away, the teeth be brushed, the pjs put upon, the Wii put away, because sigggh Dad can’t possibly do these things.

Breathe knowing this is only for one more week. Get everyone to bed, sit down in the office and instead of starting the great short story you outlined on the bus ride home fix the website issue, send out an e-mail to the new Meet-Up group members, thank writers for their testimonials , thank mamas for thanking you for being honest, and blog to vent as everyone else is already asleep in their other time zones.

Juggle them jellybeans . At least you don’t have to entertain elephants or keep kangaroos or ride reindeer. sheesh

I avoided the topic of Mother’s Day intentionally. Refocusing on being a working mama in that day instead.

My mother, L, died almost 6 years ago. I was 8 months pregnant and Christmas was 2 weeks away. It was the end of a long battle with a brain tumor. I had spent 8 months, day and night, caring for her, fighting her to want to live, making myself almost insane keeping her alive. I had walked away from my dying mother to save myself.

There are family members who refuse to acknowledge me or my son who was born a month after L finally stopped agonizing herself in this lifetime. I don’t care. Or rather, I have no regrets, I have closure on this. In fact on almost all of my mother’s family. I keep in touch with my grandparents & one aunt. Beyond that, well, and my siblings, I am really good with where it sits.

I have done a lot of personal healing about my mother and what hurts she laid on me. When she was on her death bed, in the final days, the last time my sister, brother & I were with her, they said they loved her. They forgave her. They had the chance to close things up with her.

I did not tell her I forgive you nor did I say I love you. I calmly told her she could let go now, that everything was over and there was no more to fight for. I asked if she was waiting for anything or anyone. What did she need before she released herself from the pain and the suffering. She thought about that, but had no answers. It was a Wednesday, late evening when we left.

In the wee hours of that Friday the 13th I heard my sister’s phone ring. I lay still, knowing it was over. I sat on the sofa bed while my sister, her boyfriend and mine moved about, preparing to go. I said we’d be along shortly.Morning sickness for me always lasts until delivery.

I needed more than any other day to throw up. I don’t recall crying that day. I managed through the morning hours with sickness, and I was dealing with allergies to my sister’s cat which I coudl not medicate. I had to argue with relatives. I alone did not go into the house and view her corpse, as per her wishes.

It was only when dealing with my fax that I began to break down a little. He was the 1st person I said out loud to the words “My mother has died,” and he was a typical ass about it. The rest of the day is lost right now. I know we did a lot of things before the afternoon when we drove en masse - my sister, my brother, our partners & I to tell my daughters, the only grandchildren my mother had known.I still didn’t cry.

It was when we drove back to San Diego, children in tow, and dealt with an ass of a roommate an a lost pet snake that I lost it. I yelled and ranted, but I did not cry.

There was much to do, including fighting for my job with a real bitch of a manager who was threatening to fire me for taking bereavement days to which I was entitled. My OB ended up in intensive care and there was no other OB on staff to write my disability paperwork. I did cry when I spoke at the services, with my children surrounding me, reading some poem or other. I did cry when I had to work Christmas Eve and not be with my children or anyone who loved me. I did cry when I wasn’t needed to be strong anymore.

After that, I hadn’t cried on her birthday, or the anniversary of her death or even on Mother’s Day. I did have a period of time when I’d get upset that other children had grandmothers and that my son does not have one. Last summer, on her birthday, I did finally deal with some baggage I thought I’d unpacked. This year, yesterday, I just avoided her. There is a new woman I know who just lost her mother last week and those services were held yesterday. I thought about her. I talked to another friend who lost his mother years ago. We had an interesting conversation. I knew then that I still need to write about my mother. I need to be ok with NOT avoiding her and the anger & sorrows I do carry because of her. He said “Mother’s Day is a good day to honour a mother who has passed.” I still find it difficult to honour L. But I will stop avoiding.

I am sitting in my office, writing this morning as my children sleep. I am dressed in the childcare uniform for my j-o-b which I need to head out for in a few minutes. I will be providing supervision of other mother’s children so they can work out on this day o’ moms. I will be in service to other mothers.

I don’t mind so much really. I am glad I can be there for other mothers at any time. I happen to also be waiting for the call from my very very pregnant friend for when she goes (again) to the hospital. Her mother isn’t going to arrive for a few more weeks. This baby isn’t going to wait. I will be the doula - the stand-in mama to the labouring mama.

Yesterday, I made a new connection to a great woman who is the “mild cheese” (vs the “Big Cheese”) of 3 women who facilitate a sober living home and programs for women in our area. I knew I needed to get involved in providing services to this group of women, some mothers. 

I am a mother. That word encompasses so much more than the fact hat I gestated & gave birth to 4 amazing human beings. For me, and many other mothers, it extends to a way of living. It is about caring for our friends, an extended family, co-workers, strangers on a bus, people, unseen & unknown, who are in need. 

It is why some women, some mothers, are health care providers, childcare workers, educators, activists, librarians, waitresses, troop leaders. The list goes on.

There are women, there are mothers, who do everything they can to mother everyone who needs them.  Sometimes, they work on the one day set aside to recognize Mothers. They don’t get to go to $20 a plate brunches or be served lopsided pancakes in bed.

They deserve more than one day. All mothers do.

Happy Mother’s Day to each and every one of you who works in service of mothers, be you a mother or a motherer. 

Capricorn Horoscopes

(Dec 22 - Jan 19)

Yesterday | Today | Tomorrow

Friday, May 9th, 2008 – You are less motivated now by traditional success than you are by uncovering a deeper meaning to your life. For the next 7 weeks Mars moves through your 8th House of Intimacy and Transformation, coercing you to step into the shadows of your own mind in order to reinvent yourself and make your work and relationships more relevant. Don’t worry about acting out of character; others will adapt to the “new you” in time.

How apropos, especially after yesterday’s post.

This morning I quoted $60 as my hourly editing rate & threw $95 out as book promoter. I wasn’t as confident as I should have been with the 1st quote, but will never hesitate again. The second price I said with conviction. After that business phone call, I accepted a volunteer position as a blog manager & pitched a concept that will benefit everyone - the organization, other single mothers & my household.

Already, one “family member” wrote suggesting we do work in trade. I am all for that - gives me something I need, helps her & gives me a client to write a testimonial. {Those are next on my list - gathering recommendations/testimonials from authors and others for my websites}

Now, I am going to sit back, work on a commissioned knitting project, prepare for an author interview & relax.

The Universe and I are lining up with perfect aplomb.

Capricorn s are notorious at putting everything in place. We will do whatever it takes - head butting if it comes to that. Let me rephrase - we TRY to put everything in its place, but then along come, say, a Libra , an Aries, a couple of Aquarian s or maybe even a Leo.

All those nicely separated bins of toys are muddled, the well structured clothes drawer layout is mish-mashed, the finely designed living room arrangement is monkeyed into a fort. And that is just interior stuffs.

Given our druthers, {which you really should} the day would be laid out like a grand Roman city . We’ll even rise before the sun to accomplish the multitude of errands which would create a flawlessly highly accomplished day.

Don’t listen to rumors of our inertness. We only lay about when we are in give-up mode; as in we give up butting your belongings and your behaviour into the proper cubicles and compartments.

Today begins, to my Capricornian heart’s delight, the process of organizing a new life! There are details such as new cable/internet/phone services to be bundled & begun, address changes to be initiated, pre-school applications filled in, bedrooms & living areas to be Fung Shuied, and oh so many more dazzling, shiny, new tasks to manifest the perfect new life!

Last night, I began some other “chores” - I ordered business cards for both my editing & my healing practices, I published one of the 3 new websites I am building for my new careers, & I even acquired a toll free number for the one business as the new phone at the new house is still in the comings.

Now that J has been informed of the move, I can even begin packing and in a few days shuttling the goods to their new proper locations in the new blank home.

Let me move my way & I will use those 2 weeks to carefully, deliberately unpack each box into the absolute best spots in the new house. Kitchen cupboards will be exquisitely filled. Bedrooms will be exactly right for each family member’s enjoyment. The living areas will flow smoothly & organically.

Ahhhh. Maybe. I will start another business as a home organizer /declutter er. Hmm, more business cards?

“Goat herding for your Disarrayed Life ~ let me organize you into the perfect space”

Another big step today - I took J out for sushi so I could have his attention & no demands on mine {dog, kiddos, phone, etc}. After the soup, edamame & tempura, as we’d made some headway into the massive platter in front of us I said “I need to talk to you about some stuff.”

Now, he had been really dragging his feet about going out to dinner tonight. Part of it was his usual passive-aggressive shit he pulls anytime we are doing anything. Part of it - I think he knew the shoe was going to drop.

There was minimal discussion. He did try to say that now I had a job he would be in a better mood. And he asked if we couldn’t just stay and help him out now that I have an income again.

I called him on that. “It has never been about me working or not. You don’t like me, you don’t respect me.” He said it was “hard to respect someone who is just home all the time while you are working.”

I reminded him, yet again, of when I worked a crazy shift pregnant & with 9 months of morning sickness and he was NOT working. “I still respected you,” I said calmly.

“Well, I was taking care of you.”

“Yes, and I appreciated it. What do you think I am doing when you are working? I take care of YOU - I feed you, do your laundry, take care of your child & your house. But, you do not respect me or see how it is the same thing. Because I did it BEFORE, it doesn’t count to you now.”

There wasn’t much else said. He was visibly sad, more I am certain at the reality that he woudl not be living in the same house as our son. I remained calm, he was quiet. We boxed the sushi. He went out back for a smoke and I saw him wipe his eye as he did.

I am sorry this didn’t work out for the duration. But, as I asked tonight “How long were we going to be able to keep living in the same house as R’s parents and nothing more? It wasn’t working. Nobody is happy.”

Now, there are no more ropes or even as he used to quip strings. Now we are beginning to untangle the ties that bound us way too long.

Now we can grow.

This morning I had to send my contact information to a group and I gave them the address of the townhouse. Made no sense to give them this address only to change in two weeks - less than two weeks. And the two other new jobs will never see the old address as I no longer see that as attached to me, the new me, the TRUE me.

The physical address issue settled, I am now contemplating how I am going to be addressed. It is a bit complicated, and I’m not even dealing with choosing to keep or drop the last name of my son’s father.

Once upon a time, just over 38 years ago, my mother put a name on my birth certificate. The name of the father became my last name, “T” for the next 20 years until I got married. Then I took my husband’s last name. We had our three daughters and they have his last name, “W.” 7 years after I changed from my “birth” name “T” to my married name “W” I learned that the father listed was NOT my father. Well, no matter in regards to how I was addressed. I was still Mrs. “W.”

At the end of another 3 years, however, I was about to no longer be married to Mr. “W.” What to do? Under normal circumstances, I would have immediately reverted to my “maiden” name. However, I knew that “T” was not in fact MY name. I had met my father, “M,” and could have chosen to do all sorts of legal stuff to take “M” as my name.

Our names are our identities. At that moment in time, I did not identify with a name, a person I had only been aware of for less than 3 years. My biological father & I had, at best, then a new “friendship.” An odd place to be as an adult child is attempting to carve out a relationship with a parent you will never experience as a parent. I was not Ms. “M.”

My only understanding of divorce and the issues it brings were from the pov of a child whose mother had been divorced, remarried & had another child. Her last name had been different than mine. It had been awkward. Influenced by what my mother did or didn’t do, yet again, I kept Mrs. “W” as my legal name. My children & I had the same last name. It was simple enough.

Life & identity are NOT simple.

Very soon after, I participated in a sweat lodge ceremony in CO, with an Ojibwe elder. It was an important step in claiming myself back from the previous decades of negativity and co-dependent relationships, stemming back to the one with my mother.

The pivotal change was my name.

Traditionally, your old self dies and is left buried in the sweat lodge. You are re-born a new person, and gain a new name. The new identity serves to remind you constantly of who you are NOT, as well as who you are now.

Left behind was BOTH Miss “T” and Mrs. “W” - the person my mother had created in naming me at birth & the person my marriage and life had shaped after.

Born that day was “K” with no last name. I have remained legally Mrs. “W” though. Until very recently, it has not bothered me that she exist on paper only. It has been a slight annoyance, like the low drone of a mosquito somewhere in the tent.

Now, I want a fresh clean start.

With a new street address, with a new career address, I am ready for a new form of being addressed. As I merrily typed in the new house address for a new job, I had to also give them my full name. As usual I provided the single moniker. The one that trips up some folks as to whether it’s a first AND last or a “wha???”

I did use part of the “K” and the “M” as a pen name beginning last Autumn when my new life began it’s cycle ~ 1st the old self died with the leaves and now as Spring is in full bloom, so is the new me.

One more item on the “To Do” list of my new life is now finding out how to legally change my name to who I want mail to the new street to be addressed to.