Tag: Parenting

Adulting is Hard

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I have a confession. I am looking for a new house. My boys hate it here. I hate it here. Their father passed away in the living room. Their grandfather passed away in the living room. There are too many memories that aren’t good. Ash was sick for most of the time that we lived here. We can’t do it. We can’t stay.

Problem number 1: everything on the market that I am willing to afford is more than likely a heaping pile of shit (apparently this is my expression of the week). I have found 1 acceptable home and it is *near* perfect. The kitchen is lacking in cabinet space, which I can work with. My dad is a builder. He can make shit happen. The major problem is the fact that the driveway is at such a steep grade that I don’t know if I can get past it. Which I know sounds stupid. The lot is huge. Unfortunately, most of it is unusable. Because its on a fucking cliff. Ok, not really, but you get the point. The front yard is a huge hill and the backyard is a huge tree filled hill. Those aren’t really fixable things.

The biggest problem of all is that there is no one to help me figure out what to do. There is no one to rein in my heart invested impatience. To help me think with a level head.  Ash did that for me. He brought me back to reality. To the facts. The neighborhood is quiet and tucked away. The boys would be close to some really good friends. The house is beautiful. But we might die getting in and out of the driveway. The boys will lose countless balls down the fucking hill of doom. Riding their bikes out of the garage will be a near death experience every single time. What is one to do? There is literally nothing else out there that is acceptable.

So this raises the question should I buy a lot and build my own home.  That gets scary coz this mama definitely has champagne taste on a beer budget (as my dad always likes to remind me). Should I sit tight and wait? That’s not something I’m good at. When I decide something, I want to make it happen immediately if not sooner. My mom would refer to that as the instant gratification generation. I’ve always wanted what I want when I wanted it. And I think losing a spouse so early in life does nothing to deter that mind set. If anything, it does just the opposite. I could be diagnosed with cancer next week, in a deadly car crash next month, why should I postpone what I know in my heart is the right thing to do? Except, other than getting the fuck out of dodge, I don’t know what the right thing to do is at the present moment. The boys and I deserve happiness. We deserve a fresh start. I know we can’t force it, we don’t need to settle, but is nearly perfect settling? I just don’t know.

In other news, the boys and I had family therapy today. Our first (and last) session. It was a freaking shit show (another favorite this week). 5 year olds and therapy don’t really mix. I basically paid $80 for Colt to play with stuffed animals and legos. The same exact thing he was doing before we left the house to get there. I, on the other hand, cried like a baby while we were there. Our therapist read some book about losing things and missing them and forgetting them and it got me right in the feels. Everything is getting me right in the feels this week. Jack just tried to feed her jelly beans flavored like black pepper, vomit and ear wax. Really good session.

Then we meet Ash’s mom and her friend, in town from Texas, for dinner, which was pleasant.

We then have to rush home because Jack has about 14 projects due in the next 3 days and too many math problems to complete. First up, the projects. Hello 4th grade teachers, why the fuck is every one of them due at the same time? And why the fuck are they almost the exact same project, for different classes, on different people? And why in the actual fuck do the children have to dress up like an explorer that’s been dead for centuries? Do you think we have a suit of armor with some puffy sleeves just laying around the house? Do you think my child is doing anything to help with said dressing up? No, it all falls on me. That is a stress I don’t need. Do you know another stress I don’t need? 4th grade math. What are y’all doing? Why can’t my child multiply and divide like a normal mathematical person? Why all the drawings and graphs and circles and dots and lines? I don’t understand what’s happening at all. Can I come sit in on math class so that maybe I can help him with his homework? Jesus. When did math get so complicated? Is this what calculus is like? Are we preparing him for that? I was never smart enough for calculus so I have no idea. Again, more stress I don’t need.

Fast forward to bed time, and this is where my complaining gets a little ridiculous, but I need TV to fall asleep. (and Xanax but you didn’t hear that from me). I like to watch something funny – used to be Friends until those Netflix bastards took it away from me (more stress I don’t need) and now I rotate between That 70’s Show and Schitt’s Creek. Well guess the fuck what? The Wifi signal is all of a sudden too weak to reach the TV in my bedroom. Spectrum…have you done this on purpose? Is there something newer and faster and more expensive that you’re trying to rope me into? Guess what internet Gods, your withholding my fucking falling asleep television show caused me the biggest breakdown I’ve had in weeks, ok, maybe days. Who am I kidding? I breakdown all the time. But, I just want to watch my damn show and giggle and not think about houses and driveways and vacant land and Hernando de Soto and Julius Caesar and fucking 4th grade math.

Also, I just got warned that imminent doom is headed our way anyway so maybe none it really fucking matters at all.

Adulting is hard AF.

Dear Mike Trout…

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I will preface this by saying that the contents of this post are intended to be funny. I, in no way shape, or form believe the Mike Trout is going to move into my home and raise my children with me (obviously we would move into his house, he has a career to finish after all). Or any of the other people on this rather hilarious list. I am nothing if not honest, though, so do with it what you will. I will also say that I am 37 years old, and while I will mourn the loss of my husband for the rest of my life, I also do not intend, nor did he intend for me, to spend the rest of my life alone. So there.

As you know, my children have asked me for a new dad. I have explained to them that there is no dad store and that it will take time, patience and actual love for that to happen (all of which none of us are good at, well, we’re probably good at love I would assume. We love each other without issue, so I’ll claim that as a positive attribute in our favor.) Colt mainly copies what Jack says, but I do believe that he longs for a. his dad but since that’s not possible 2. a male figure in our home daily that will also play endless legos with him (I am not the parent that is good at playing with her children (unless it’s a sport in which I can dominate), that was always Ash’s territory. I’m more the clean your shit up, put your shit away, don’t talk back to me disciplinary bad ass of the home).

Jack, however, can’t seem to leave the subject alone. We had some time together, just the 2 of us (a very rare thing) one day last week and he really opened up to me in his sweet, innocent 10 year old boy way. He did request, again, a new dad. I explained, again, how we need time to grieve, heal and you know, meet someone that we love and loves us back, blah, blah, blah. (Not that I’m saying our conversation was blah, just summing up, if you will). Apparently that answer was not sufficient. He dove further into where we would live, would new dad coach sports and would he get to call new dad “dad” or would he have to call him Mike or LeBron or whatever his name happens to be. What a fun conversation.

In reality, I can’t imagine how he must be feeling. What a fucking load of shit both of my boys have been dealt. I was lucky enough to grow up completely with both of my parents. No death. No divorce. Just normal, middle class, American upbringing. Navigating through this load of horse dung is not for the weak of heart, I can tell you that much. Your children will throw so many curve balls, you’ll be lucky if you make contact 1 out of every 30 balls thrown. My average is probably even lower than that. But we’re all trying together. I tried to talk to him rationally. We don’t know what the future looks like. Hopefully we will meet someone when the time is right. He may or may not be as into sports as we are (actually he will have to be or it just won’t work.), I think what you call him will be a personal decision between you and him. All the things I think I’m supposed to say. Who the fuck knows?!

Well, to make matters worse, funnier, even more screwed up than they already are, Jack has come up with a list of potential “dads” that he will allow to move into our lives and assume his new role. Rounding out number 1. Mike Trout. Yes, folks, Jack will allow Mike Trout to come into our lives to step into husband, father, best friend and baseball coach. You’re welcome Mr. Trout (Tom Ferguson, if you’re reading this, you’ve got some work to do 😉 !) Coming in at a close second is Bryce Harper (sorry about your wife and child) followed by Bruno Mars (ummm ok?!), Cody Bellinger, LeBron James (again with the wife and children…) and I threw in Jordy Nelson, Chris Hemsworth (sorry about your wife and children as well) and Cam Newton (hey, we could share a wardrobe) just for good measure. Go big or go home is apparently our motto around here.

So, to you potential suitors to the Jones brood, let me tell you a little bit about what you’ll be getting. Jack and Colt are 2 of the coolest kids I know. Jack is smart, kind hearted, handsome, athletic, funny, sarcastic, compassionate and more competitive than maybe even you. He’s quite stubborn, needs a lot of prodding to get going on any one thing but once he starts, he literally can’t be stopped. My wonderfully weird Mr. Tolt is also smart, affectionate, so loving, hilarious, emotional and really good with yard tools. He’s wildly independent, thinks he knows how do anything and everything and needs no guidance from anyone and is also quite stubborn (I believe that is a big family trait, no getting around that DNA). If I had to take a stab at what each boy would become when they get older I will say that Jack (if professional athlete happens to not work out haha! – this is where you could be super helpful Mr. Trout) will become an officer of the law whether it be a sheriff, detective, prosecutor or something similar. He is a rule follower (and enforcer) through and through. Colt, on the other hand, could careless what your rules are. He will create his own. Therefore I see him owing his own business, thereby making his own rules, in a very hands on, crafty way – landscaper, land grader – something with lots of dirt and lots of heavy machinery. They are great kids and any of you would be so lucky to have one shred of a part of their lives.

Me, on the other hand, I’m a harder sell. I’m 37, a widow with 2 fan-fucking-tastic kids, stretch marks, maybe a few pounds that need shedding (although I can run a consecutive 2 whole miles though, so will probably be unrecognizable within the year). But I’m also pretty damn funny, cute when I try to be, have the mouth of a sailor, love red wine, a good book and lots of sunshine. I, too, am stubborn, sarcastic to excess and have a hard time expressing how I feel with actual words. That you speak. I can write them down like a fucking champ, though!

In all seriousness, I don’t make light of this. Like any decent parent, I hate to see my children unhappy and suffering. I wish I had that magic wand to take all their pain away. But they, we, will persevere. And as all the bull shit sayings tell you, we will be better and stronger for it in the end.

Until then, we await your call, Mike. (Insert hysterical laughter here!)

Moody Monday

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Today was one of those days that just kind of sucked. And it didn’t suck. I had weird conversations with my children. I had lunch with a friend where apparently my tears were on the menu. I received more bad news than I wanted. And I returned to the business that Ash and I started together, for the first time since we sold it and it was just so different.

I got up early this morning, did yoga, made Jack’s lunch for school, had my coffee, got the boys up, walked the dogs, made (you know, poured bowls of cereal) the boys breakfast, took Jack to school, came home, jogged on the treadmill, took Colt to school, grocery shopped (are you bored yet?!). I’ll stop. I just did the shit you do as a parent. Normal. I started the day off happy enough. I made a lunch date with my sister from another mister (I don’t generally say that ridiculous saying but it seems fitting for our relationship). All good things, right?

I picked up Colt from preschool and we headed to lunch with my friend. We’re chatting, catching up and then a bomb gets dropped on me. Not really, if a bomb really got dropped on me clearly I wouldn’t be sitting here writing this. My friend is moving. Far, far away. I’m not surprised. But it surprised me. And it made me sad to my core. She’s one of those people that is always there for you no matter what. Would give you the shirt off her back (and complain the whole time while doing it!). I love her like she’s family. I’ve known her longer than I knew my husband. And I just can’t imagine doing life without her being near me. I know she has to go. I know why she has to go. But it doesn’t make the pain any less. Bitch. Kidding. I love her. But bitch.

So, weepy lunch. Then I get more bad news. My oldest, Jack, is a pretty decent baseball player. Last year he played on at 12U travel team. In his last travel ball tournament, he got hit in the mouth with a pitch so hard that it knocked a tooth out. He sat out the remainder of that game but played in the very next one because he’s a bad ass like that. That night we went home and he threw up. Being the most excellent mother that I am, I put him to bed shortly after said throw up and checked on him later. He woke up the next day saying he still felt nauseous so I finally took him to the ER, where it was determined he was perfectly fine (dodged a mom fail there) but he missed his last baseball game of the season. 2 days later, his father dies. A week or 2 later her declares he’s never playing baseball again. Poor kid had been through so much trauma/drama/what-the-fuck-is-this-life bullshit that he decided baseball wasn’t for him. Which was pretty devastating in and of itself. Then he decides he will play baseball again, but only regular season league ball – he’s not doing travel or fall ball. Ironically, 2 weeks ago he decides actually he will play travel ball and can’t wait for it to start up again. So, naturally, because this is the run of luck we’re having, we get an email today to let us know that the team has broken up, too many boys have too many other things going on and it can’t continue. Cue the tears.

I tell Jack and he handles it just fine and decides he’ll see if he can play for the other travel team with all his buddies! Except, no son, you can’t because that one is 9U and you are 10 and there are no other local teams in your age group in our area. Ugh! He handled it better than I did but was still pretty bummed.

Move on to dinner. We’re sitting there, just chatting about the day, when out of nowhere Jack says to me “Mama, I’d like a new dad.” And then Colt chimes in, “yeah mama, we need a new dad.” Then they continue with how it’d be so nice to have someone else here and how they miss dad and we can just get a new one. They said dinner is always so quiet and it would just be nice to have someone else here to play with and hang out with and love. Sure kids, I’ll pop on down to the dad store and pick the best one on the market.

This was not something I was prepared for. I should have been. Kids are so resilient and so much better at life than we adults are. They get hurt, they share their pain and they move on. The don’t dwell on things. They stay in the moment. They just get it so much better than we do. But this one just caught me so off guard.

I tried as best as I could to talk through it with them. I did mention that the dad store didn’t exist but that maybe one day we would meet someone, and we would fall in love with him and he would fall in love with us and that potentially, one day, someone would be here with us. I explained how I didn’t like the situation either, that I missed having a husband and a partner. I told them how much I loved them and how I wished I could wave a magic wand and bring dad back or take away the pain. But that I couldn’t . Then the conversation took a strange turn into who was king and queen of the family. For some reason they seem to think the dog, Bogey, is queen. I quickly informed them that hell no, mama is queen, Bogey can be the princess and it just got weirder from there. See? Resilient. So good at moving forward.

Did I do or say the right thing there? I have no idea. There is no guide book in my possession that is telling me “what to say when the kids ask for a new dad.”

On a completely different subject, the business Ash and I used to own was an indoor golf and sports simulation, beer drinking, kick ass place. We had a blast owning it. We used to run golf leagues. I played in the ladies league back when we owned it. The new owners have continued the golf leagues so a couple of girlfriends and I signed up. This was my first time back there, I think I already mentioned this, since we sold it. And boy had it changed. It was the same concept, but they had added so much to it. Nets and official golf club holders and ball holders and wood everywhere. So much more put together than Ash and I ever were! Still all the same pictures with an added picture of Ash on the wall. Luckily I had been warned about that so I just didn’t even look at it. But I looked at everything else. It didn’t cut as deep as I thought it would, probably because I was surrounded by love, light and laughter. The leagues were totally different, too. Where Ash and I were super laid back, this had so many rules. And that’s fine. Obviously it’s not mine anymore so why would it be run the way Ash and I ran it? It was just a little difficult to not be in control, to not have my friend behind the bar making sure my beer never ran dry, to not have the ridiculous loud 90s rap blaring while we hit wildly awful golf shots and took as many mulligans as we wanted to help boost our ever deflated golf egos, to have to wear shoes, to not have Ash there telling us why we hit it like such shit and having him tug on everyones belt loop to show how the hips are supposed to move and giving as much boost as we feel we need. Again, it’s no longer my rodeo, Ash and I were very different from the new owners. It was just an adjustment I didn’t quite prepare for.

But I did it. And I’m proud I did it. And I’ll be back next week to try again. But I might bring my own playlist!

 

 

 

Just Jack

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I was living in Denver, CO when I found out I was pregnant with Jack. Ash and I had moved out to Colorado because Ash was pretty nomadic and got bored rather easily with any one place. He had to get out. We started our Colorado adventure in Durango but after a few unfortunate events with a carbon monoxide detector, bitchy landlord and door kicking incident, we decided maybe Durango wasn’t the place for us (or maybe the fact that we were blacklisted and could not rent another place in town again after said door kicking incident had something to do with it).

Anyway, we decided to give Denver a try. I tell you, Denver was the coldest city I have ever been in in my entire life. Frigid. We rented a tiny little bungalow in South Denver because we were told it was the place to be in Denver. Best neighborhood, hands down, or so we were told. I think my favorite parts of the neighborhood were either the homeless “General” always planning his next battle in the park beside our house, the myriad of things that would disappear from our trash can at night, the den of foxes next door that screeched and mewed all night long or the dead body I got to see being wheeled out while taking my daily jog around the General, I mean park. Denver was not my favorite. I had a horrible job where one of my duties was to keep a homeless man from eating all the candy at the front desk. I shit you not.  Ash worked so far away he had to leave our house at 3:30 in the morning just to get to work on time. There was traffic for days. We lived above some girl that always came upstairs on Sundays and would never leave. We did meet one amazing couple that we are still in contact with, well I guess I should say I, I am still in contact with them. I’m not sure about Ash.

The point is, I had gotten to my breaking point in my relationship with Ash and Denver. I couldn’t figure out why I was there, what I was doing. I had left behind friends, family, a good job for what? My boyfriend was never around. I had very little in the way of friends. It was freezing. I didn’t find the locals to be all that friendly. And there were very creepy things always happening in my neighborhood. I started to pray for a sign. Please God, show me the way. Should I stay or should I go now? And boy did he give me a sign.

Be careful what you wish for, that’s all I gotta say! Or don’t because that sign is one of the best things in my life. I was sitting at work, guarding the candy from the homeless man, chatting with the girls. One of the girls said she thought she was pregnant. I said oh me too! We kind of laughed together. I told her if I was pregnant, I would not be coming to work tomorrow. (never mind the fact that the day before at work, I ran to the bathroom, threw up and blacked out for a minute or 2 – still wasn’t convinced).

I went home after work that day. Normal night. Got up the next morning and made a run to Target. I decided since I was there, my period was 2 weeks late and better just to double check, I’d get a pregnancy test. Now, I was still so confident that I was not pregnant that I also bought a 6 pack of beer, stopped at Chic Fil A on the way home and ordered the large coke. I got home. Peed on the stick. Put my groceries away. Checked the stick. Any my whole life changed in the blink of an eye. I burst into tears, and not tears of joy. The first person I called was my mom. I don’t know why but that’s all I could think about. I need my mom. Holy shit. What do I do? My mom was an angel. So loving and supportive and actually excited! Next I called Ash. I didn’t say anything other than you need to come home right now.

He was shocked when I told him the news. Had I messed up my pills? What happened? I didn’t have answers. I hadn’t messed up my pills! The only thing I had done was ask for a sign to direct me where to go. Well, I guess I got my damn sign, huh?

Jack was born several months later (9ish obviously) after a somewhat complicated pregnancy. We ended up leaving Denver and moving to Texas, just outside of Austin. We rented an apartment right across the street from the hospital just to be on the safe side. Ash worked at a golf course forever away. It wasn’t the smoothest transition from dating to married to parents. But it was worth every laugh, every tear, every hug, every yell, it was worth everything.

Jack was born after being induced into a very long and painful labor. He wasn’t breathing when he was born. The nurse beat the shit of him to set him straight (clearly hasn’t worked 😉 ). He looked like he had 2 heads, he was jaundice but he was perfect. He was clearly exactly where he was meant to be.

And that’s the thing about Jack – he’s our little miracle, our little unplanned, do things his own way, awesome, stubborn amazing miracle. He’s going to do big things one day. I can tell.