Happy 40th to Me!

I'm lying. I have A in on the act. The other day in the car she turned to E and said,

"E, aren't you excited that mommy's going to be having her 40th Birthday?"

I was pleased. I'm not forty. I'm beyond forty, but I'm not telling how far. Far better to keep turning forty. E thought I'd prefer thirty-nine, but forty is the new thirty and I'm content with that.

E took me out to Les Fougeres for my birthday, which was lovely. I had a rich French meal, chicken stuffed with cheese with mushrooms and rasberries and beets, two glasses of Chardonnay, and lavender panna cotta, my first dessert in 2 months. (I have shed 20 pounds in an attempt to recover myself after having gained that much over the last 4 years with E). I felt great initially, then suffered one of the most painful and disorienting headaches I've ever had. (I worried I was having a stroke, my mother died of a stroke while dancing after a rich meal one New Year's Eve. I'm feeling my age . . or worried about my mortality . . . or something.)

Too much is going on . . . still. I keep hoping things will calm now, but they don't seem to. So an update for Sandwitch . . .

My life's pace has slowed considerably and I'm still trying to determine what it is I'm meant to do. Meanwhile, things in second-marriage-ville are complicated. E's teenage daughter is resentful and clingy, his son remains rude and wrathful, and his ex-wife just attempted suicide, which may explain the kids' problems, and seems more of a misguided scream for help than a desire to end her life. Still, it is awful and E's in denial and I'm beside myself with worry.

This came on the heels of a complicated month of court actions and revelations from my ex-files, but this is too much to explain. Suffice it to say . . . .he didn't stop with me . . . and it wasn't me . . . finally, I see that, which is, in itself, a relief, even it it means more suffering for someone else.

A also had a rough year to date . . . being bullied at school by a frenemy and losing interest in school as a whole as a result. I decided to have her switch schools, which was sad . . . but I am hoping it will help. The decision came on the heels of this frenemy's mom asking to talk to me and explaining that her daughter was feeling bad about herself because A cried all the time . . . WHAT? This spoiled little hellion was bugging my daughter and then felt bad and blamed her for crying. I was furious. These had been "family" friends. I listened and then decided talked to the teacher, and decided, based on my observations, A's history at the school, and her obvious disengagement, that A was not spending the next 6 years with the same 12 kids and teacher in this dysfunctional class dynamic. Blah.

Oh dear, E is home with kids in tow after a 3-day baseball tournament. Gotta run . . . and I'll recommit to more blogging, let's say daily blogging, as part of my 41st year resolutions.