Minimum Days

images-14Too Bad My Kids Don’t

All across my school district

I hear the mothers sigh

Another minimum day for the kids

Oh why…oh why… oh why?

If they are forced to wake them up

Before the birds do fly

Surely the district can keep them there

Until the afternoon arrives

But no you will bring your kids

For half a day at best

Then you will turn around and fetch them

While your house remains a mess

The usually quite afternoon

Becomes quite the verbal brawl

As kids run and out of the house

Poor mom, the referee of all

And so I would curse the district

This idea put into place

But I’m too tired and weary

As I run back and forth in haste

Teens & Alarm Clock Hell…266 Days To Fix This

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Somehow, I have become everyone’s personal alarm clock and I don’t like it one bit. Waking up my children has suddenly become a major chore. I don’t know what it is about teenage-hood but the fact is that everything moves slower on them, their ears stop picking up the decibels emitted from my vocal cords and their bones seem to collapse in upon themselves rendering them unable to hoist their bodies out of bed.

It used to be that I could bellow up the stairs and it would work.

“Kids, it’s a lovely day. Time to get up!”

Three minutes later their shiny smiling faces would be standing next to me, sweet sleep still filling their eyes. Now, I have to climb the stairs to hell to bring them down myself. In short, the trip up the stairs feels like being led to the gallows.

With Paul the first exchange of the morning usually goes something like this:

“Honey, time to get up!”

Nothing moves, nothing stirs. Mom walks over to teens bed and shakes him where he kicks his foot striking me somewhere in the thigh. I am still unable to determine if this is a voluntary or involuntary act.

“Paul, time to get up. Come on baby. Let’s go. Move out!”

GROAN. Slight twitch of left toe.

Shake again.

LOUDER GROAN. Slight twitch of right toe and so it goes until each part of his body has twitched but not yet moved.

“Come on baby. Rise and shine!”

“OKAY I AM GETTING UP NOW LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Fifteen minutes later I am still the only one down in the kitchen, the countdown to the bus has begun and I’m starting to burn like the bagel I put in the toaster 5 minutes ago.

In an attempt to remedy this hell of a routine I take taken many paths of desperation including LOUD alarm clocks that could wake the dead but somehow fail to wake my teens. I have cuddled with each child as they snore on. I have rung bells and I have banged drums. I have even resorted to ice cold water spray bottles which have resulted in nothing but an ugly attitude that manages to last into the wee hours of the next morning.

Is there no way out of this hell?

People tell me that I will miss all this when everyone is gone and out of the house but I doubt it. Because by the time the last one leaves the nest we will be retired and probably very weary of this lack of time management on the part of our teens.  Yet, I do hold out hope that the future will bring with it an uncomplicated way to start out my day. And, if it is true about what the experts say about the aging process, I suspect I will still hear, “OKAY! OKAY! I AM GETTING UP!” as I drift in and out of sleep. Only this time, those words will be uttered by a incredibly horny and somewhat naked 65-year-old man. And frankly this will be fine by me because instead of being the bell ringer it will be nice to once again have someone RING MY BELL to wake ME up in the morning.

No Filter

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One of the things about Autism that is so endearing/maddening is the utter lack of a filter that Andre has.  Whatever he thinks…is what is said. We usually get comments from friends like, “Andre manages to say what most of us wish we could say but aren’t brave enough to do so.”

So yesterday the boys saw a picture of me from about 20 years ago and Andre told B that I looked sexy. It was one of those that they did your hair, makeup and dressed you in nice clothes. Glamour Shots. Now defunct. Like me.

So today I said to Andre “I hear you told Dad that I looked sexy in that picture in the garage.”

Andre: “Yeah I can tell that back then you WOULD have looked cute in a bathing suit.”

Me: “How can you tell that?”

Andre: “It’s a guy thing mom. Every guy can tell whether on not a girl will look good in a bathing suit. But what I really want to know is what happened to you?”

Me: (thinking I probably should not ask and just let things lie) “What do you mean?”

“So is it the fat part of you or the age part of you that got out of hand or is it both?”

“No, it’s the having kids part that did it to me.”

“But I hear people say having kids makes you stay young. It obviously didn’t work for you.”

“And it won’t work for you either!”

Andre: “Perhaps I will create a dinosaur instead of having kids! But… then I would have to worry if it would eat people!”

Pause…

“See mom you have it really easy. At least you don’t have to worry if I am going around biting people’s heads off!”

Mom Revenge

After I had children I began to understand why some animals eat their young. Those animals are smart creatures because they know that one day their offspring will grow up to become a mouthy, sulky, nasty, mean, cranky, selfish, thoughtless and reckless teenager; so they nip that problem in the bud.

Teenagers breed contempt. They make you question your sanity. And there is nothing worse on God’s green earth than a snotty-know-it-all sixteen-year-old.

Last Saturday evening, after a particularily difficult week with our collective teens, my girlfriends and I got together for a drink…or two. I am not sure where the idea came from nor the precise number of drinks that been downed but suddenly we were compiling a list which we have decided to use against our offspring to teach them a lesson should the need arise. We called it MOM REVENGE and does it ever feel sweet. And since we are all in this together I thought I would share.

    MOM REVENGE

  1. When you drop your kid off at school yell out the window “And if you don’t pee your bed again tonight I will give you another dollar.”
  2. Fill your son’s bed with stuffed animals just before his friends arrive
  3. Pack a sippy cup in your sweetie’s lunch box
  4. Post naked baby pictures on their Facebook page
  5. Yell out the car window “Remember the babysitter will be at the house waiting for you when you get home from school.”
  6. Text your teen “Honey, you forgot your blankie. Do you want me to bring it to school for you?”
  7. When your teen’s friends are over come downstairs with a box of head lice killer and tell your daughter that the salon called and wanted to let her know she has lice.
  8. Download ice cream truck music on your cell phone and blast it on your stereo as you pass their high school.
  9. Put a Barbie doll in your teens backpack.
  10. Buy a recordable card and record your own personalized message that awaits in their lunch box.

Lie to Me

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LIE TO ME

Let your words pull me off this deserted island

That I was banished to

Empty, confused and alone

With your not so innocent words

LIE TO ME

Tell me again just how much you love me

Let me see your love for me in your eyes

While the mountain of words propping up our relationship

Crumbles down when the word divorce (noun) is uttered

LIE TO ME

Tell me everything will be okay

That we will love each other with passion again

And that nothing has changed for the two of us

Today and for eternity

LIE TO ME

Make love to me like you mean it

Let me know that you are seeing me

And not the ghost of someone else

When you pierce my body and penetrate my soul

LIE TO ME

Show me your plans for the future

And your make believe photographs

With my face in them

Our smiles lighting up the sky because we are happy again

Please…

LIE TO ME

Because it feels better than the truth

LIE TO ME

Because I need to feel sane again

LIE TO ME

So I can dream again

LIE TO ME

So I can pretend this is happening to someone else

LIE TO ME

Because I want you to

LIE TO ME

Right now…Today

How Do I Learn To Trust Again?… 330 Days To Fix This

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How do I learn to trust you again?

When a man doesn’t share his feelings, keeps everything close to the vest, inhabits your world but doesn’t let you inhabit much of his; how do you learn to trust his words and actions and believe what he says?

When a man fails to tell you of his despair and comes to you with, “I think I may want a D.I.V.O.R.C.E.,” how do you know that he won’t walk through the door, pack his bags, and just leave even though he tells you he is happy now?

Like a Greek tragedy, I just can’t forget your words as easily as you dismiss your intentions. I see/hear your words, D.I.V.O.R.C.E. re-playing in my head, scratchy and skipping parts like an old movie soundtrack. They are rough like the ocean banging into the rocks on the shore, removing a grain of the rock every time it gets hit. Your words echo in my head.

You tell me everything is so much better…for who?  For who is it better? How do I know that your words honor the truth of what you are feeling deep inside in those places you refuse to share with me? Because I don’t feel better and I am not sure how you could feel better about our relationship, so easily, and with such little effort.

Sure we laugh more, since you outed some of your feelings. And the sex is incredible. And the house looks great. But I don’t feel better because I don’t trust that this is real. I don’t trust that this, that I, am enough for you because I have so often not been. Yeah, those “harmless” flirty texts they have done a number on me and my trust is serrated instead of smooth. My trust in you, in us, and in myself is lacking. It’s incomplete.

Because how do you go from miserable and “I may want a D.I.V.O.R.C.E.” to everything is great…and I am happy in 35 days? I don’t trust this. I don’t trust you. But I want to. Desperately.

How do I learn to trust again?

I wish I knew.

The Road Not Taken…335 Days To Fix This…29 Days Yell Free

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Robert Frost’s A Road Not Taken is a mystery to poets and critics alike. To author, David Orr, Frost’s poem is, ” a commentary on the self-deception we practice when constructing the story of our own lives.”

And I think that could be true.

For we all practice self-deception of one sort or another in order to stay with our significant other. We re-write the stories we tell ourselves about why we love, why we stay, who we love and the games they play in order to make the story comfortable to us. We all make up stories which allow us to go on with our lives. “He won’t hit me again”, “He’ll fall in love with me again”, “We can survive this,” are the words some say in attempt to change the storyline and make it “fit” into how we imagine the story of our lives should go.

In this vein, I suspect if you asked most men when they hear the words ” The Road Not Taken”  they would say it takes them back to the  women who have inhabited their lives. For it seems to me, that men are often following that Road Not Taken back to the past; wondering if Anna would have been a better lover, if he would have had more in common with Jane at this point in his life and if Jennifer would have been a better mother.  Often, it appears to me that men “regret” losing the woman on whose path they did not travel, while women “what if” or “if only” the road they chose to take. Men seem to let go of their culpability in the demise of a relationship while women, well we, “if only” ourselves to death. “If only I was thinner I could still be married to him.”

Me, I am trying to take a fresh approach on Frost. I think that what he meant was that we as people are altered with every decision we make when we step onto one road and leave one behind. As a result we need to make decisions that will bring us to our best and true self. And that whatever road we have taken we must make it the best road for us. One full of life. One full of hope. One of love, compassion and grace. We can’t turn around and take the “other” road but we can enjoy the one we are on. So today, I am going to take hard,strong, meaningful steps on my path. I will leave the tip-toeing around for another day.