Drama III, Robert Munsch, and more
Last weekend I took Noah to the Robert (Bob) Munsch reading at Chapters. Munsch hasn’t been doing too many readings; he had a pretty major stroke at least a year ago and so I had sort of given up on the idea that Noah would get to see him. But, he did - along with 220+ of his neighbours at this end of town. It was quite energizing to be in a group of people who had all rushed out for a reading. That is my tribe. The publishing industry is in chaos, but Mortimer remains.
Noah had a blast, after all the waiting. The waiting was looooooong.
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Friday Noah had his doctor’s appointment to follow up on this anemia thing and we have a requisition for more tests. He has had a vitamin most every day and I have been food combining like mad - beef and lentil and kale stew, for example. (Liver is pretty much out for a variety of reasons.) We also have switched over to cold cereal a few times a week, so as to get all the additive iron in it.
After that, Noah and I had made plans to go to the museum together; I’d actually booked the whole entire day off work. Just before our doctor’s appointment who called but my mother; apparently the ex-communication was lifted.
Before I knew it, another system member had invited her and my dad along to the museum. I was pretty grumpy; not only was this supposed to be Our Day Out but I thought there should be penalties for all the shit. However, I didn’t care enough to call back and cancel. I have told myself:
- One trip to the museum does not entirely wreck boundaries that have not yet been set.
- I get bonus karma points for not going off on my parents.
However it still doesn’t sit right with me. But the truth is, I (and others) had not done the system work to get everyone on board with a plan, so no plan was implemented and the good girls took the day. This is both human and multiple; I think it’s human to find yourself doing things you wish you hadn’t. But it’s multiple to be really REALLY sure you’re not going to do something, and find yourself doing it anyway.
The person who went ahead is part of the MMC, which is a whole other post.
In any case, it actually was a nice day regardless. The museum was pretty quiet, and Noah hooked up with a docent in the kids’ area and uncovered a whole bunch of dinosaur bones in the dig-your-own spot and she helped him figure out which each one was.
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Noah’s swim teacher remains excellent. In three days he’s gone from dreading the lesson to crying that it ends too soon, and has put his head underwater and swum a bit holding onto a noodle.
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Taking the day off was really good for me. There is so much to like at my job, but the other parts are horrid. I don’t have a strategy in place. But I do need to exercise ’cause it really is high stress.
Le drama, II
And happy birthday Madeleine!
I spent three hours at dinner with one person (my mother) giving me the cold shoulder and complaining and being not very nice. Never said, you know, happy birthday.
In front of my four-year-old.
I don’t know. Now I regret having been the bigger person and not having told them just not to come. I’m actually regretting staying in contact for the years they kept the chairs I TOLD them I had been sodomized over in their home, and everything since. Well, not everything. We have had good times. But I am so angry.
I’m not really sure how you call someone on this. Another vote for therapy I guess.
Le swim, and drama update
So last term we signed Noah up for real swim lessons - in a group of 6, with two instructors. I had trouble getting into the interface on the critical day (swim lesson registration starts at 7 am and is basically over before 9 am) so we ended up at a local pool in a high school, which meant it had old tile, and was over Noah’s head except where the instructors created a little platform using the wheelchair lift.
It wasn’t a disaster by any means, but it wasn’t a great experience. The boys were kind and caring, up until the last few weeks of class when they seemed to focus pretty exclusively on getting the kids to pass. Noah wasn’t quite ready to pass and eventually this led to a dunking incident (no one’s fault, more just Noah slipping) and some tears. Also, Noah slipped on the tile floor in the change room and got a pretty serious concussion. (Which was one of several reasons he was ‘behind’ at passing-the-level time.)
So this term I signed him up at a better pool and for private 15 minute lessons (the city helps make this relatively inexpensive as far as private swim lessons go). Today was the first day and he really did not want to go. He asked us to cancel the lesson last night and this morning.
So here’s what we did. I said he didn’t have to swim, but he did have to go to the pool and meet his teacher and let him/her (turns out to be a her) know. And that we would bring along his swim stuff just in case. Then Carl and I both shared our early lessons, and also all the things we can do since we know how to swim (kayak, canoe, windsurf, etc.)
Sure enough, once we got there and he saw the other kids, he went along nervously. And then when he saw his teacher he was really happy. She was wearing a hijab (as well as a full-body suit) and honestly I think he finds that comforting. I think I do too at this point…it’s funny how our prejudices develop.
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For the drama, my parents are apparently speaking to me again. Nothing changed but time.
We are going out for my birthday tonight (tomorrow is the actual day) and I have slid back into not dealing with it - yet. I do want to take it up with them that they can’t do this.
But I’m not quite sure how to do it, and I haven’t had the energy to sort it out. This is where it would be helpful to be in therapy.
Now, I am the Master
It’s been a bit of a drama-ride here the last few days.
I didn’t realize it, but since Christmas Day my parents have felt slighted in some way. I’m pretty sure it has to do with not having activities with Noah arranged for them (I left it at “call anytime if you want to come over or do something”) and Carl’s mother being here. But, my parents stopped taking my calls, some of which would have led to specific invitations. At a certain point I worried that they were okay, so I emailed them and my dad called with his version of events. (”Your mother and I are very disappointed.”)
In the language of other families this might be minor, but in the language of our family this is a signal from my mother (with whom my father always agrees; agrees being too weak a verb here - it’s more like “into whose interpretation of the world my father always enters”) that she is displeased and that steps must be taken. (By others.)
In therapy we dealt with a number of these kinds of episodes and my therapist occasionally recommended that we sever, or severely limit, contact with my mother. I’m never sure how all this looks from the outside but from the inside, that is me and Carl and Anna and others who have been involved for years, it seems to be pretty clear that this kind of thing is disruptive.
It’s disruptive mostly because the offense, whatever it is — and I will state for the record that I think in families we do often trip over each other — is never outright expressed. You are supposed to know what you did (and weirdly, you often can tell from the way the phone rings that something is brewing). It is always your fault and never a miscommunication or a shared problem. And it is your job to fix it. And until you do, affection is withheld. And you never really know when this will happen or over what.
It’s been a few years since something like this came down, particularly over the holidays, and I admit I had dropped my guard. I made my mum a pretty special dish over the holidays and I had spent a fair amount of time sourcing her gift and basically, I felt like I had put the effort in. So it was a surprise that in her mind, I suck. So one of the reactions I’m having is related to the cold icy water of it. I have in the past deliberately avoided my parents from time to time, but this week wasn’t one of them. Had they called up, I would have happily made plans. The last plan that was made was Christmas Day and I made it, so I sort of felt like I’d done my part of the family thing.
Second though, what’s upset them is that they didn’t get time with “our boy” (this last phone call took place with three full holiday days to go, so they could have still had time even after the initial sulk). In making that the reason for the drama of the season, they’ve involved Noah. Oh, not in any huge way that at his age he would notice. But it’s unacceptable. It enrages me. I have been doing yoga and deep breaths for three days and I am still angry at 6 am.
I probably sound overblown when I say that but had they called and said “we’d really like to take Noah out” and I’d said no, then they would have a point. But to be sitting in their lovely home making shit up that they don’t get to see him, poor poor them, is making him the source of narcissistic supply. And I think, although I am trying to figure it out before I do anything stupid, that this is actually my true gut instinct informing me of this fact, and not just bad feelings from the past. I may be wrong, but I feel it. And I am angry on a level that I rarely achieve.
And finally, they are just not grateful or respectful to me. I am not a perfect person, but I am a reasonably caring one who does her best most of the time. And despite the fact that most Christmases between 1973 and 1985 I was being raped and abused literally under their feet, and that since then my mother has had many many holiday dramas about not getting nice enough presents, not being cared for enough, etc., I continue to put myself out to try to include them. And yet, I continue to be the closest available target. (And yes, I think part of the drama is because they have continually avoided their own work about that abuse by creating drama at precisely this time of year.)
If I were not a mom, I think I would finally have come to the point my therapist was hoping I would come to where I would say no, enough. Enough. However, I can’t just fly off the handle and cut them off without considering what the best path is with Noah involved. He loves them and I think they love him (I was sure, until this little passion play started).
But man this year it hurts. It just hurts. Noah’s at a significant age now where I watch him and I know that I was being abused over Christmas at exactly the age he’s at. And that’s hard. And work has been hard this year. And it’s the season of Emily. And my birthday’s next weekend. It’s never the best time of year for me. And they’ve chosen now to pull one of these stunts. I think I’m a little beyond achieving my usual “accept them where they are” zen on this one.
I’m still not sure exactly what my response will be, once they deign to be back in contact. I am sure that they have damaged our relationship and that I am no longer willing to pretend that these things don’t. I know that we need boundaries. But I’m not sure what they should be or how to set and enforce them. I’m not sure what’s best for Noah. A monthly visit supervised by Carl? I don’t know. It sounds cold and harsh. I don’t want games to be played with my child - and I don’t want to play them.
One interesting thing (and hence the title of this post). I did realize that the scales have tipped. If I wanted to raise the drama bar and win, I think, for the first time, I could do it. I hold the ace card (access to Noah) and the fastest communication tree (Facebook) within the family. But, I won’t. I have to find the line between protecting myself, and making it okay for my child, and making that clear - and behaving as if Noah’s time is something I mete out for good behaviour. That I do not wish to do.
I’m feeling rather lost; hopefully this is how one gets found?
Seeking balance
If I had to characterize 2009, I would say it was a year where as a nuclear family, Carl, Noah and I really found our footing. It helps that Noah is 4, of course; at 4 one can say “I need to make dinner. Would you like to help or go play for 20 minutes?” and generally have one of the two happen. (Parenting tip: The third option is play playdough right next to me; the fourth option, for very bad days, is eat tuna sandwiches after a 15-minute cuddle.)
But it’s also that we’ve got our groove back. We laugh. We have fun. We get (most of) the chores done without resenting each other. We genuinely enjoy each other’s company, in all our various configurations of 3! (that’s a factorial; am I not impressive?)
Sometimes I think the magic grieving period is five years. I still acutely miss Emily and experience all the emotions associated with that, but I am regaining bits that were shut down to cope. And I see that Carl is too. I’d like to continue that this year, but it really is the highlight of 2010. I feel like we are a functional and loving and respectful team.
I’d also say that 2009 was a period of social pulling back for me. I’d reached out to find mom-friends, and this year I lost the energy to properly nuture those relationships. I would like to change that; the challenge for me is that as I’ve regained these lost bits of myself the more time I can sit with myself, and the less time I spend socializing. I am a strange bird that way. I would like to seek some balance, perhaps by doing something as simple as inviting people to come look at art with me rather than just doing it with Noah alone.
In that gray area between socially sanctioned family and friends lie of course the Ell (Idaho) gang, with whom our relationships have continued to deepen. I think one of the surprises this year has been that we’ve been able to do some practical things together (goal setting and tending) and it’s been inspiring. It feels very solid.
With extended family most relationships have been good. After watching my sister go through her hellish, hellish, hellish pregnancy and then make the transition to parent I have a new respect for her. Visiting her in August was great. I’m also continually awed that my parents have raised two people with such different styles. My sister gets me in a way no one else does, but we joke that in some ways we’d be good candidates for a Wife Swap (the TV sort, get your minds out of the gutter) because our homes function quite differently.
Work has been the hardest, most amazing wild ride. I have never loved a job this much and hated a job this much, often on the same day. I’ve learned about myself that I have a hard time when I’m not a rising star, and I’m not, yet, and I’m not sure I will be one ever. I over-identify with it, or at least I have this year, and that’s when I do my worst work.
I am not sure yet what I’m going to do with this information. Since my industry is sort of a dying one (if the phoenix will rise again, no one quite knows how) I find myself at almost-39 on the cusp of a pretty crazy midlife crisis. I have a job I’m not sure about, but there’s not really much of anywhere to go without a huge change. It’s all so stereotypical, and given that my job is actually soaked in the experience of the exact same thing it’s one of those matches made either in heaven or hell. I suspect that this year I’ll find out which and either part company, or become better at it in a puff of magical purple smoke. But the most important thing for me personally is to release expectations and find some Zen. This is not my forte.
Physically the year was a bit of a draw. I am not as sick as I was last year, although no one knows why I was so sick last year. I have now had my whole torso scanned except for a mammogram and seem to be growth-free, but I have had Bad Juju Symptoms. I have eaten overall really well - locally, seasonally, mindfully, with lots of nutritious veggies and whole grains and lean meats - but I also have eaten extra snacks that were not healthy. And for exercise it hasn’t been a great year at all.
Also I have gotten pregnant and not stayed that way, and of late not been able to get pregnant. This is kind of the last year for that, I think, and I’m not sure what to do about it. Carl and I have always taken the approach that we don’t want to get on too much of the ART wagon, and we have Noah and life is sweet. But we still have those two empty spots at the table - Emily and Baby X. And now that I’ve seen Carl blossom as a dad I think he should have 10 kids.
So here are my thoughts on 2010:
- write a minimum of 20 minutes 5 days a week, with at least 2 of those focused on the new book, which is actually going well
- walk during three lunch hours a week at a bare minimum; play outside at least once a week with Noah (or at the pool if the weather is really bad) work out at least once on weekends. I know this sounds very small but baby steps.
- limit work’s space in my mind outside of work, but focus on work at work. But take lunch breaks.
- keep the family stuff going, the CSA going, etc.
- invite friends in to the things I do
- make an appointment to discuss ART with my doctor
[And as for Noah's anemia/allergies/whatever, we have a follow-up appointment on Jan 22 and I am going to put my foot down about a blood workup and get one, and also seek a referral to an allergist. This holiday he has been jolly, pale, tired out at the end of the day (although we have had fun-packed days which can be tiring) and totally turned off by any food more caloric than cucumbers, unless it came from Santa. We hide the meat in the broccoli. I'm not really kidding; I shred the beef and toss with the the broccoli.]
But my #1 goal is gratitude. I’m a striver which is not a bad thing, but right now I think it’s getting in the way a bit. One can appreciate the now and not always be worrying. I found myself frothing at the mouth a bit in online communities over Christmas presents and gratitude and I think that like most rants, I was mostly talking to myself. So this year I am also going to appreciate what I have.
All the best to you, dear reader, in 2010!