Saturday, September 29, 2012

Simplicity Parenting

I spent the early weekend listening to Kim John Payne talk about Simplicity Parenting. It made sense to me. I've always had to be simple in my parenting, because it was just A and I up until now. That made it easier, I think, to live with less, to have time to decompress, to leave our schedule open, and to avoid exposing her to adult conversations. Although maybe I'm idealizing our past. Now, things are harder.

Certainly, E isn't on board with this kind of approach, although he does include some of Payne's principles, which include 1. decluttering their environment, 2. establishing household rituals and rhythms, 3. allowing for a flexible and open schedule, and 4. filtering out the adult world.  I realize that E's more minimalist than I am, and has far less to declutter, but his kids have lots of toys and distractions, including iPods, iPads, televisions, DVD players, and computer access that A still does not. Rhythm is sometimes a challenge, but E is a domestic god because he makes dinners and we eat together, although he prefers to eat alone. Recently, however,  I had to enforce bedtimes because over the past year bedtime for his kids slid from around 8 pm to 10 pm. They've now settled on 9 pm, while A is in bed by 8 pm. Our approach to schedules differs significantly. His kids are also on a definite schedule, with lots of activities to attend to. He likes it this way, even with the driving. I have 2 days of activities for A, Mondays and Saturdays, and that's enough for me. Our adult world is separate. Both of us try not to expose our adult lives to the kids, and he reminds me, sometimes, to be careful what I say in front of A, particularly about her father. So, are we simplicity parents? Not exactly, although I'm sure we can adopt some of Payne's principles.

The garage, for instance, is full of things to give away. Tomorrow, I'll try to comb and cull toys, books, and clothes from A's room while she's at her dad's. I will also try to do that myself, though it will be harder. The prospect of having a more peaceful environment is appealing, so I'll have to try.

Payne talked about low level stress building to a syndrome of sorts over time that mimicked Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. This made sense to me, especially given my experiences with custody trials over the past 6 years. I reached a point of distress myself, without really recognizing it, and now I'm trying to recover. I realize that this down time is a necessary healing time . . . while I haven't seen A manifest my distress, maybe this is something of the same for her. 

Friday, September 28, 2012

Let's try again

I've taken my new laptop back to the big box store where I purchased it 2 times now. Both times they have told me it is fine  . . . blah . . .blah . . blah. It crashed with my new software. It wouldn't properly load Blogger. I mean, what's up? I have to work with it a little more, I suppose, and hope for some clear signs of failure before I return and insist on a trade-in.

Technology!

I have to get up to speed, I'm feeling like a dinosaur.

When is one middle-aged? Does one peak before the long slide down the lifespan?  Can I look forward to a pinnacle somewhere up ahead? Will everything make sense then?

E and I watched Wanderlust  last night, which I thought was really funny. It was crude, but in a real way. It spoke to corporate/capitalist burnout. I laughed, E yawned.

I do wonder what we are all chasing. What is it that drives me, for instance? Not sure. That's what I have to work out. I guess I'm lucky to have the time to think about it.

Thursday, September 27, 2012

N-W Again

I just finished N-W, I completed it on E's couch, in the morning sun. After a slow spell in the middle, it picked up. I'm left wondering what to make of it, though. I suppose the message is that we are all trying to hard to appear competent, that success is a matter of luck and perspective, that our ability to truly communicate is compromised by pride and shouldn't be.

At this point, I have to try to appreciate what I have. I can communicate, most of the time, with my husband, although we don't share a similar point of view. My daughter is full of light and hope. Slowly, slowly, I am integrating into this strange new home. I am working enough to pay the bills I need to.

Miles to go before I sleep, but I am plodding forward.

What makes one's life make sense? For me it can't be success, because I haven't any. Is it healthy relationships -- because they are hard to maintain and impossible to control. I was told yesterday I over think things.

Reading about N-W character Natalie/Keisha, I couldn't help but think of E's ex. She displayed similar breakdown behaviour, senseless affairs with some element of danger, all while she had small kids and a loving husband at home. Smith suggests that this behaviour stems from a deep sense of inadequacy, but I'm not sure I understand that. Based on what I was thinking about yesterday, don't we change because of circumstances, integrating some sense of self-esteem from success? Again, I can't really speak to this, being someone of little confidence.

Maybe, though, maybe, this fallow time I'm in is a direct result of coping so well for so long without a sense of security  . . . I'm not sure.

There is little I am sure of. Perhaps that's okay for now. I think it won't change, but I can hope it will.

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Overdue

N-W is now overdue. I couldn't locate it on Monday and now the fines are mounting. I feel like I'm overdue for an overhaul.

This weekend A turned 6. I can't help but wonder how far I've drifted from my own hopes and ambitions during that time. She isn't to blame, of course, but the circumstances surrounding her have made it difficult for me in many ways.

How do you go in a new direction or know what direction to take?

It is at this point that I think back to M. Poor M who seemed to have no sense of direction, but had so many gifts. I know that almost immediately after our "break-up," if you can call it that, he met another athletic type and married her fairly fast. They had a baby about a year after I had A. I once saw him at a local beach with his baby in a Chariot, following his wife and her parents, looking as glum as the man I knew. I do wonder if he is happier now that he was before, and I think he probably is.

What changes people? Circumstances. They do. There is no doubt in my mind that you can be felled by hard times and buoyed up by good luck. I think of myself as fairly happy most of the time, but I'm feeling really tired right now. I remember this woman I met just after my ex left who said to me, "How can you be happy?" Most of the time, I try to find happiness in small, everyday things.

Perhaps I've given up on big dreams. I'm not sure if I have any, but I'd like some . . .

There has to be some way to get back on track.

Sunday, September 16, 2012

N-W

I'm reading Zadie Smith's new novel. I'm not quite clear on the London district it is depicting, but I relate to the protagonist, a woman, filled with empathy, who can't seem to get a handle on her life.

I think I'm a kind person. However, I'm the kind of kind person who really, really resents unkind people, so I can't possible be as kind as I think I am. I'm not sure what that makes me. I have unkind thoughts that I override. I try not to say anything that would hurt someone, unless I think it necessary. I hold to the principle of speaking only after considering, 1. is it true, 2. is it necessary, 3. is it kind. I can't claim that I undertake the same consideration for my blog posts. This is where I vent.

So. N-W. I am a third of the way through and I have no idea where it is going. The overly empathetic protagonist seems to have a dark side, having abortions unbeknownst to her husband, befriending addicts, to everyone's chagrin. What do our dark sides say about us?

Mine reflects my frustration with the powerlessness of my situation. I can't change an upbringing that was less than ideal, a failed marriage, and a floundering career (the result of that failed marriage in large part). I try to be optimistic, but it isn't easy. Is there any way to overcome such everyday despair?

Thursday, September 13, 2012

The End of the Family Unit

This was the title of a Globe and Mail article I read this morning. Certainly, in this house we are all tuned in to various screens most of the time. We have, between us, 3 televisions,  2 laptops, 1 netbook, 2 desktops, 3 iPods, 1 iPad, and 1 DS, and 3 DVD players. That's for 2 adults and 3 kids. We're about average according to the article. Often, every child is in their room with a device, while we adults rest.

When E and I were in Montreal recenlty, we stopped at Linguini's for dinner. Just as we had finished ordering, a family of five came in. There were a mom, dad, and three kids under 8. They were whiny and loud until "poof!" out came three iPads and the kids began to play, leaving their parents to have a quiet dinner for two.

Of course, using these electronic minders is probably not good for conversation among members of the family unit, but it does make it easier to be together.

What is strange to me is how the concept of family evolves. What will happen with A and E's kids? Will they think of themselves as part of a family together? Will E and I ever think of us and our kids as some kind of family unit? Certainly, we're not there yet. We're far from there . . .we eat together sometimes, but often not. Everyone has distinct interests, and the kids all have two households. E and I stay here together, but I'm always obsessing about my own home. I'm not sure whether time will change this or not.



Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Paperwork

I took three trips to the passport office today. Each time, I came away with paperwork to find. I am still not done. Sometime over the next few days, I have to find my divorce order and fax it in. My certificate of divorce was not enough. Apparently, in divorce cases all legal document pertaining to the divorce and child must be reviewed.

The clerk read my material, then said, "Looks like you have about as good a relationship with your ex as I have with mine. My son's 17 and my ex is still asking for money."

"It never ends," I agreed.

This rigamarole followed a near hour long conversation with the insurance company regarding E's driving record. We needed to provide them with all insurance details for the past six years in order for them to renew the insurance they cancelled because I wouldn't tell them details of my renter's driving records, people who will never have access to my car. What is up with that?

What's up with my life generally right now?

I have absolutely no idea.

Perhaps this is burnout.


Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Cafe

I'm in a cafe, checking email and passing time. It took me 50 minutes to drive in today. The entire time, with Angelina Ballerina blaring in the background, I thought about how I might be able to return home. My home, I'm afraid, despite the good intentions of the family living there, is suffering a great deal of neglect. Renters are worse than me. Who knew? I thought maybe they could get a handle on the lawn without me. Instead, they took the garden decor from my actual gardens around the home and placed them around a clump of weeds in the front lawn that they let run amock. I wasn't happy to see that. Before the green bin pick up, I swooped in and yanked all the weeds out. I didn't realize they'd potentially wreck my home value. Now, I'm concerned.

Can I live with this stress for the next year? What do I do after that? Can I go home? In order to do that, I have to have work. There's the rub.
Work has been hard to come by. Should I give up and sell the house? Should I redouble my job search? I'm not sure what to do. I can only hope a year will help me sort it all out.

I know I don't want to be commuting for 2 hours a day, and I don't want to live my life in a cafe.

Monday, September 10, 2012

Monday Morning



He stumped into the kitchen this morning in his boxers. I moved silently out of his way. We are at an impasse already. At bedtime, his son sings and slams doors while my daughter tries to sleep. In the middle of the night, while they sleep, my little girl calls out for me, waking him.

Last night he said, “No one is getting any sleep.”

I moved in knowing things would be difficult, but what if this attempt to blend families is a mess?

My daughter’s dad left over lack of sleep, but he was always wrapped in shadows.

I still can’t sleep, but spend most nights silently brooding beside my new husband, trying to forget the old one. Sometimes I pad quietly down the stairs and stare into the plush dark, heartened by dim outlines of light.

Often, I wonder if I can ever sleep peacefully again.



Yeah, don't be so smug

I guess this weekend I felt kind of broken myself. I mean, I keep asking myself, "Whose life is it, anyway?"

My friend, S, reminded me that once you have kids, your life is never really your own again. However, it isn't that I am tired of doing so much for A, but that my choice to be with E means that I'm losing sight of me, or at least my low-key lifestyle. Commuting is horrible. I hate it. I can't stand being in a car for close to an hour, just to take A to an activity. I also can't stand the commute into Ottawa, especially in traffic. Driving so much is stressing me out and getting me down. He's fine, because he doesn't go in to town every day, but I'm forced to, and it leaves me feeling almost as rootless as I did when I was living there and commuting back and forth to here to see him. The difference is, I'd do that maybe twice a week, not 6 days a week.
Also, trying to get a good night's sleep here is nearly impossible.

Thursday, September 6, 2012

An iStory

"Broken"


He was in line behind me. The baby was strapped to my front; I was jiggling to keep her calm.

“Oh, hello,” he said, “How are things?”

His voice was bright, like he expected good news. He didn’t notice my face. People don’t usually look that closely.

“Well, Mack left us,” I said.

He smiled.

“Last week, before we got the house.”

Grabbing my hand, he sat me down.

“Where are you now?”

“In the house. Alone. He’s gone.”

I shrugged. She chortled. He patted her head and then my arm.

“Listen.”

I had never known much about him, just small talk, café chatter, so I did.

From him I heard how injured one can be, and how long bitterness remains. That’s what determined everything, in the end, and how I ended up here, finally happy.

I didn’t ever want to be like that – so broken, so destroyed.

Last day of freedom

Well, last day of my very brief summer break. Tomorrow, I will start a program and start teaching again (in a greatly diminished capacity). I am going to take today to do things for me that I rarely get to do, like see The Hunger Games again and go to a yoga class. I need to reconnect to myself at this juncture and try to keep my own equilibrium in mind as I head into this next school year.

I know the year will be a challenge, changing directions in all things, but you can't not go forward. I can't not accept what is. I am looking long and hard at the last year and I'm trying to discover what happened. So much of my stress focused on my concerns for A. I'm still concerned about her, but at least her father and I are talking now, which has to be an improvement. She's also getting older, and I hope that means she'll be able to speak for herself in ways she has never been able to before.

Motherhood took over, I know. Taking care of A has been my primary concern every since her birth. Maybe now that she's reached the solid age of 6, the age of responsibility for young children, she'll be okay without my constant attention. I can hope, anyway.

Today, without her, without anyone around, I'll do whatever I want.

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Humbling

Okay. For some reason, this is the way it has to be. I'm supposed to change directions. I have to take it and move on.

Granted, I've wanted a change for a while now, but not this fast. But everything this summer happened fast, so here I am, having to adjust quickly.

I was up and out the door before 7:00 am, only to arrive in Ottawa at 7:20 am with A in tow. We went to a Bridgehead and had some breakfast. She coloured, I read. Then I dropped her off to her classroom and had a peek at it. It was pretty, a light orange colour with natural fibre decorations. A is in a set of three desks in the front row, so that's good for her, but she is sitting beside her friend, Hannah, who is extremely overbearing. I'll have to ask her teacher to keep an eye on that. There should be a meeting soon.

After I dropped her off, I went to the library, but it wasn't open. Eventually, I realized I should just trek back here because I had to check emails and make phone calls and I was tired from staying up until midnight in order to finish The Hunger Games. Yes, it was good. I can see why all the kids love it. I got it from the library, too, but there isn't much hope of finding the next one there. I'll have to buy it. I guess I don't mind. I wish I could write something as intriguing. I'll want to write this year, somehow, in between trying to learn to write professionally and trying to keep my head above water.

That's the way my life has felt for far too long, like some desperate attempt to survive against all odds. Perhaps that's why I liked The Hunger Games so much. That's dystopian fiction, but real life can be just as brutal, for me anyway. I have to wonder if anyone else feels as challenged by it all as I am. E just coasts along. He is doing well, though, so he can. I do envy him.

I wish this were easier. All of it. I'm finding it hard to maintain my grit when so much goes wrong so often. I also don't understand why that is. I know it must have something to do with me, but I'm not sure what to change to make it better or who can help. I guess just moving forward, even if I'm not entirely optimistic, is about the best I can do.