I'm still surprised.

I don't know why, really, but I'm always surprised when something pops up that I actually sort of expected to happen along the way. The latest surprise smacked me in the face this morning when I decompressed with my kids from their weekend away.

We talked things through in such a civilized manner when I actually made the decision to leave. I packed my things. We had conversations about who would take/keep what, when the kids would visit, how we would do Christmas, who we would explain things to, how we would go about that process, who would pay the bills, what child support would look like. We didn't fight tooth and nail, we didn't involve lawyers and judges. We agreed. We wrote it down. We turned it over for legaleze drafting. We read it, fixed details, signed it, returned it.

It's been 11 months. Things change. I shouldn't be surprised.

But I still am.

The things that started out so civil don't stay that way over time. I don't know if feelings get hurt or realities set in or bitterness kicks back in over time or distance or realization or what actually happens...but civility slips away. Maybe it's just nature. Maybe when you stop thinking about it all the time you get lazy about what you said you would do. Maybe you just forget. I don't know.

My heart breaks for my kids, though. And I am reminded of how carefully I must use my words. They are worth a constant, vigilant, humble effort. I will put in that effort. I will not forget.

I know.

I know exactly how she feels right now.  Exactly.  I remember the thoughts that went through my head as I lay on my bed, sobbing into my pillow.

He is so mean.  He's trying to ruin my life.  He doesn't want me to have any friends.  That way, he doesn't have to worry about where I am or what I'm doing or who my friends are, he can be in complete control of everything I do, every second of the day.  He wants me to be miserable.  He likes when I get in trouble.  And why did I get in trouble?  What was I doing that was so wrong?  I'll bet (fill-in-the-blank-friend's-name)'s parents don't tell her she has an attitude all the time.  This is so stupid.  I hate my life!!


Hot tears.  Angry words.  The injustice.

Sigh.

If I had a dollar for every time that rant went through my head when my dad disciplined me for something I had done or took something important away from me as a result of my actions...gosh, I'd have a lot of dollars.  Not that those dollars would do me a lot of good right now.  While my baby girl lies on her bed.  Sobbing.  Occasionally punctuating those sobs with, "I hate my life!"

What I didn't realize as a kid was the depth of pain my dad felt when he actually had to follow through on the discipline he threatened.  That proverbial "this hurts me more than it hurts you" (to which I always responded under my breath, "yeah, right.").  Tonight, Reasa's attitude about helping clean her room (displayed by slamming her boots onto the floor as she took them off) resulted in the threat, "If I see one more display of your lousy attitude tonight, Reasa, I will call Taylor's mom and tell her she can't come over tonight."  The most unfortunate part of the situation is how desperately Reasa wants Taylor to be here tonight.  Actually, maybe the most unfortunate part is how miserable Reasa's attitude toward me and Seth has been lately.  I really thought her desperate desire to have Taylor here would outweigh her miserable attitude toward (well, especially) me lately (since Seth wasn't home yet).  

I was wrong.

So, 40 minutes later, as I cleaned the kitchen (because that's what I do when I get worked up: I clean), thinking about what I needed to say with her as follow-through to my text to Taylor's mom, can I think of anything brilliant to say to her?  Nope.  Because all I want to do is wrap her up in my arms and cry right along with her.  I despise having to follow through on threats.  It would be so much easier to say, "It's ok, honey. I changed my mind. Just don't let it happen again."  I know in my head that doing what I said I would do will make her think the next time she considers sassing me, or pushing it just a little bit farther, or slamming the milk down on the table just a little harder than it needs to be slammed...but oh, my heart in the meantime.  And hers as well.  The thought of her laying there, thinking of me as mean, or unjust, or controlling absolutely breaks my heart.  But not more than the thought of her seeing me as inconsistent or irrelevant or anything less than an example of the mother she someday hopes to be.  She can't see any of those things right now.  But I hope she can eventually.

Probably while she's standing in her kitchen wiping syrup off the table while her daughter sobs in her own bedroom.

Swim Meet

So proud of Reasa and Bryson tonight.  Despite only ever swimming in something other than our back yard pool (or someone else's) and only ever having done a formal stroke (or 4) within the past three weeks of their lives, they both dove in and swam their little hearts out tonight in their first swim meet for the Williamsport Waves.  Don't ask me what their times were (or what they swam, for that matter.  I stood in lane 1 timing every race that came through my lane with two other moms...we made good use of those stop watches, and at times, barely had time to realize when our kids swam), or what place they came in (interestingly, it doesn't seem to matter at the meet itself)...they don't care anyway.  All I cared about happened when they got in the water and swam even though they were nervous and uncomfortable and nauseas.  I told them they had to swim in the first meet, then we would talk about it after that.  I don't think I even need to worry about that conversation.  They loved it.  Their head coach cheered them on and all of the parents encouraged and helped.  I look forward to the rest of the season, watching them improve, figuring out if this is something they could stick with over time.  Even if it's not...crazy proud of them.  (Now they just need to go to sleep.) ( :) )

P90X, Day 6

Wow. I hurt today. I hurt when I got up. I haven't stopped hurting. Of course, the "haven't stopped hurting" part may have more to do with Kenpo X and an hour of karate and sparring...but whatever. I may need to figure out what to do with myself on days when I'm putting in double workouts so as not to die, but then, I thought the one workout might kill me...maybe I'll survive. :)

You know, those of you who read this blog and know the program really could give me a heads-up. When yesterday, I mentioned not having to go crazy with my legs today as part of Kenpo X (in order to recover from Legs and Back (aka lunges and pull-ups) yesterday), you may have mentioned the fact that Kenpo X would rip my legs apart after yesterday's workout (and I realize that the 15 of you who read my blog may have never heard of P90X before I started blogging only about this bandwagon I have jumped on...sorry. I know you're not just sitting there laughing your evil laugh at me, hoping I suffer. I hope.). I fell over repeatedly during just the warm-up. Now, I have to admit, the year of karate I have under my belt certainly came to my rescue in this workout--the form varies just a bit from Shotokan karate (and I went back and forth between doing it their way and doing it "the right way"), but I think I would have had a much more difficult time doing Kenpo without karate...between balance, and form, and strength. For as little credit for overall fitness as I have given my two-hours-a-week karate workout over the past year...obviously, it has not been for naught. So...tonight...upon attempting to get up from the couch after Where the Wild Things Are with the monkeys...my legs, I swear, nearly refused to operate. If I hadn't missed Sunday's workout, and was headed into actual Day 7 tomorrow, tomorrow would be Stretch X or Rest...I would rest tomorrow. Instead, I do Core Synergystics (and weigh and take all my measurements and pics) tomorrow. Oh, how I would love to rest (especially since today was long, and I would like to be in bed...but in the day's longness, I forgot to dry our bed sheets...becausem yes, we only have one set...the new mattress we got last year is extra deep, and I just never think of another set of sheets when I'm anywhere that would sell them. I know. Dumb.)

We celebrated Reasa's 11th birthday today with lunch at King Buffet...her pick. So fun. We normally do dinner, but Seth had a business meeting with his company's owner this evening, and with our normal sports schedule on Tuesdays, dinner would not have happened all together until after 8pm anyway...so we opted for lunch followed by birthday present shopping together (she chose a bedspread (which she found for a rockin' deal at Burlington), mirror and lamp for her room...we definitely left those adorable little girl years today, folks.). Then she wanted to spend her Old Navy gift card from MeMe and Ompy and some of her money from Mima and Papa Everett...we shopped for FOUR HOURS. Boy, did she find some great deals at Old Navy. Kid after my own heart.

Like there was any doubt of that.

The baby gate

Since Maisie came to our house, we have rediscovered one of the most wonderful gifts we received before Reasa came along...the baby gate. You don't realize how much you appreciated these inventions until something comes along that needs to be very deliberately kept out of certain areas...for whatever reason, Maisie can't enter the living room without peeing on the carpet. I don't pretend to understand this...I can only think that the previous owners' pets used this carpet frequently...I don't know. Whatever. Regardless, we have kept Maisie out of the living room with the help of the 11-year-old baby gate. She has free reign of the kitchen, family room and classroom this way, but her accidents are generally limited to the sun porch. I don't know. Maybe, eventually, she'll be fully housebroken. Maybe I'm just not a competent pet owner. Either way...back to the baby gate.


Tonight, we needed to restrict Maisie to the classroom. Our friends' sons are not comfortable with dogs, especially rambunctious red puppies, so we adjusted the size of the plastic baby gate, and blocked off the classroom. After our friends left, I moved the gate to the living room again, readjusting the gate, and when I pushed down on the latch/handle, the plastic went "SNAP!"

I seriously didn't know what to do. I made the comment just yesterday that I couldn't believe we still had this baby gate--told the kids that we had gotten it as a gift for a baby shower before I had Reasa...that it was over 11 years old...the kids were blown away. They just couldn't believe the gate had been around longer than Reasa had been!!

And today...one of the last items from my babies' perfect babyhood still in use in my house...it's headed to the dump. These little things, they just keep happening. My baby turns 11 in a week and a half. It's ending so quickly! You will never hear me wishing their childhoods away--I have never been that mom.

Stop this fast-moving ride...please...I want to get off.