June 27, 2012

Run Away, Run Away, Run Away


Max ran away today. He went to the neighbor’s house. Kim and James have 2 little boys so they are used to chaos and temper tantrums. He ran away because we would not agree to adopt a little baby girl. In fact, I think up until today, he may have thought he was adopted.

In the midst of the tantrum he said, “I wish you had never adopted me!”

I was like, “Um, you’re not adopted. I had you. You grew inside of me.”

He looked really confused and said, “I thought you went to Texas to get me?”

“You were born in Texas, Max, but you are not adopted,” I replied thinking all of this nonsense would be over and done with.

But no. He still ran away with a handful of quarters and a water balloon making toy. Mike called the neighbors to let them know he was on his way and then about 30 minutes later Mike went and got him. He was not happy and insisted he lived there now. I said that his dinner was ready and he instructed me to bring it to him at his new house. I instructed him to sit down and eat. He told he wished I had never been born, which was exactly what I was thinking at the time. I sent him to his room to think about what he said, which was really just buying me time to eat my dinner in peace.

If my blog were read by more people, I suppose I could expect comments telling what I did wrong in the situation and how I could have handled all of this better, but it’s not. I am 43 and my husband is 50 and I want a 2nd child almost as much as I want to have a root canal. But, I do feel bad for him. I mean, he sees his friends who have siblings and wrongly thinks they are having a ball. As the youngest of 4, I can assure you they are not. They are hoarding toys, stealing food and finding small spaces in which to hide and be alone if even for a few minutes. I used to hide in a coat closet on the 2nd floor. It was hot as blazes because there was no AC vent in there, but I would sit there sweating my ass of just to have 15 fucking minutes of alone time to read and sing and just generally not be harassed by any one.

Last night I was thinking about how my mom, when I was maybe 7, participated in some consumer study to get free dish towels. She had me eat some new snack and then asked me a bunch of questions about it and whether I liked it. It had peanut butter in it, which I despise, so I no doubt said, “It tastes like hell and you know I hate peanut butter,” but she filled in the sheet and got a dish towel. I endured peanut butter for a dish towel. We did all this sitting at our dining room table, where very little dining actually took place. We mainly used it as a desk – I wrote just about every high school and college paper sitting at that table. Anyway, it made we wonder what weird scenarios Max will remember about his childhood. Will he remember the night he ran away?

We also used to collect green stamps. In fact, I am pretty sure we got the bird cage for our parakeets using green stamps. Charlie and Loretta lived in a house purchased using the 1970’s equivalent of American Express points.

The real fact is, I do kind of feel bad for Max. We pay too much attention to him. He has nowhere to hide. There is no one to distract us from him. It has to be enormous pressure. In a family of 4 kids, you can sort of disappear for a while if you need to because your parents are so beat down and tired. But, there is no way I am adopting a kid to relieve that pressure. Maybe I can just tell him to go sit in a closet somewhere. Or I can send him to sleep away camp or something. I suggested to my husband we get a new puppy and he suggested I shut my trap. It was totally called for – I was verging on hysteria at that point.



June 16, 2012

Blah, Blah, Blah..

Why is it I had time and energy to write every week for a year and now I can barely manage to eke out a post every year? I don't know why that is, but I don't have that much to say even though a lot has happened and continues to happen. I guess it was the horror of the hurricane and having my first kid while evacuated in Houston and then my mom dying of cancer like all at once that provided the fodder for the blogs (and my therapist) so if I never post again because my life is too calm to have anything to say, well, then I am fine with that. But, surely I cannot be so dull that there is nothing worth posting about without life events that are so devastating and catastrophic that it takes the National fucking Guard to quell the chaos? Right?

Or maybe not. Maybe this is it and the well has run dry and now I have a completely pedestrian life that does not inspire creative quips and stories. Pack the lunches, make the breakfast, drink coffee, go to work, stop here and there for various things - funerals, vacations, hysterectomy, and then climb back in the wheel and keep running, at not quite a leisurely pace, but certainly not the clip of my youth. Ah, my youth, how I both miss it and smile like an asylum patient that most of it is behind me. Sure, I miss breasts that defied gravity and hair that was naturally the color of coal, but oh the pain, the pain of being so fucking stupid and so unbearably insecure. I will happily keep my gravity-beaten body to feel the warmth of self acceptance that I never felt in my youth. Had I one inkling back then that everyone felt as stupid as me, I would have, well, probably not lived to tell the tale so perhaps it is best that the whole thing came crashing down when I was 22 and I quit the rocky road of self-destruction then.  Well, at least the drinking part of the self-destruction. The rest of the package has slowly eased up and gone away over time. It really does heal all wounds.

And now I watch my son, in his 6 year old sweet boy mind, deal with life. And I do my best not to put my shit on him, not to feel the pain of my shy and awkward youth in his tiny life. But, I fail, every day. And that is ok. I love him more than anyone has ever loved a son and that is enough. It has to be, but it is the only constant, the only one sure thing. The rest is, as we say in the Big Easy, lagniappe. It is tenable and definitely not the northern star that is my love. It can all go away with one fell swoop, but my unconditional and undying love will be the bedrock upon which the rest is built.