Complacent Goo

LB started asking when she was going over to daddy’s house at about 8 am, Friday morning. I wanted to spend the day with her, but Roofie called later than morning and asked if she could come over early as well. With LB jumping up and down in the background, I couldn’t make myself say no to either of them. I sucked it up and drove my child to where she really wanted to be.

I sat in my car by the side of the road after dropping LB off. Blondie was pregnantly cordial to me, asking what my daughter would like in her lunch on monday. I think about our encounters which were typical one year ago, and I know things have improved. I still felt vacant somehow. As much pain, hatred and stress that were present during the holiday season of 2008, I still felt like the safe, cozy haven to my daughter. I was the rock in the raging waters around us.

Now what am I? I’m the transporter to her daddy, her “sisters” and her other life that has become routine. I’m the witness to her mood changing from excitement, eagerness and joy on Friday to nervousness, frustration & exhaustion on Monday. I’m the person who explains to strangers why my 3-year-old calls me by my first name. I’m the mom who gets parenting literature from doctors, teachers and grandmothers, saying “I think you should really read this. It may help.”

I wanted to go home and curl up on the couch for the rest of the weekend. Instead, I went to the gym and picked up a basketball. I shot hoops for the first time since college ended for me in 2004. Feeling the bumpy skin of the ball on my fingers was like stepping into an old pair of jeans. It was comforting, it felt good in a surprisingly familiar way. I didn’t expect to experience as much pleasure on the court as I did for those 45 minutes.

I was so high on endorphins after shooting around, I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to go home to my sad little dwelling, where I am so content to mope away my free time. I need to stop going there. I need to prevent myself from oozing into complacent goo when I feel down.

I’m on page 30 of my screenplay. 25% finished 🙂 Take that, complacent goo pisceshanna.

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5 thoughts on “Complacent Goo

  1. So many people tell single mothers to use the time we get to ourselves as “me” time but I have been right there with you, I struggle when my monsters are gone. I miss them so much even though they drive me nuts on a daily basis when they are home. I hope it gets better as time goes on but I do know exactly how you feel.

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  2. My mother still tells me I dont know how to parent :-p I think some people feel because you are doing it on your own you are only going to get it 50% right!

    You are still LBs safe place – you always will be. Trust me. My kids are doing that whole “I want to go to dad this weekend and NOT with you” – the only reason is that its fun at Dads – there is no stress, no rules, no boundaries, no homework that needs to be done. Its 2 days of pure fun. But when Kiara cant sleep – she calls for ME! When they draw a picture they draw ME! When you ask them where home is they say ME!

    So take her my friend, hug her and then go shoot some hoops and marvel in the time you get to do nothing! Dont waste it moping!

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  3. I think that the last year had brought about a lot of change and growth for ALL of you; I am grateful that no matter how hard it was for you to do it, that you didn’t say no. Because regardless of what has happened and the feelings it has caused in you, Roofie IS LB’s dad, and Blondie IS his wife, and you can waste an awful lot of time and energy trying to pretned it isn’t the case but it IS. And barring abuse or terrible neglect, there isn’t anything you can do about it excpet make it as easy for LB as you can. That’s it. And you DO.

    As far as the parenting advice, we all get it, wanted or not. The way I deal with it is that if more than one person tell me the same thing, even if it is something I am doing wrong, then I should probably take a look at it, because maybe they are right. It is never fun to recognize that perhaps we need to work on a few small (or big) parenting issues, becuase at least for me, the first reaction is,”This is MY kid and I know what I am doing,” but for me the reality is that I have had to be taught how to parent effectively. Especially when dealing with divorce and remarriage.

    Sending big hugs your way.

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  4. Dude, let me tell you this. I tell anyone and everyone who will listen, that it IS NOT the terrible two’s, it’s the frickin three’s. I read this post about LB and immediately went back in time to three years ago and had visions of Emilee doing the same thing.

    It’s the fact that the vocabulary is there somewhat, but the reasoning is not. It gets better. I promise. It takes about a year, but it does get better.

    Hugs!

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