Posts Tagged ‘Kids’
my younger stepson:
Shit his pants at school, removed his underwear and threw it in the trash
Was playing hide and seek with his dad and got his nuts clipped by a mouse-trap that was hidden behind a chair
While nursing a tummy injury, fell once and busted his ass on the stairs, then later that same night, feeling better ran across the floor, slipped, fell and landed on his ass again
Watched a show about blood hounds, decided to pretend to be one, stuck his ass in the air and dragged his face all over his grandma’s carpet, giving himself horrible rug burn and left his face all scabbed up two days before school photos.
He is hilarious sometimes
so much, it is hard to know where to start. Kim and the boys. Kim and I have had this amazing time trying to reconnect and rekindle after the stress of what has been a continuous 17 months of cascading tragedy and disaster. We have been playing and laughing, and talking and adventuring and making love, and fucking! As I continue working the Steps, trying to do so with more effort and more earnestness each week, I am feeling my “muchness” returning and today might be the first day that I have felt fully plugged in for entire day, so far.
Last night we had this fun, but also grueling night of shopping with the boys, then came home to stay up late and work on an extra credit, craft project for the youngest boy. Honestly, they worked on it while I cheered and lay on the couch because I am more than useless with that kind of stuff. But there was something so perfect and so wonderful about watching the two of them, Mother and Son, huddled over the table late in the evening, with styrofoam balls, modeling clay, paper mache and some crude directions and a sketch that the boy had drawn up. They were working together just to do it really, since it was just extra credit.
Then there is the fact that they were working with Clay and Paper Mache’ making this “Story Teller” doll with some children in his arms. Kim made the children by hand with Clay. She says she had never made it before, but they were incredibly detailed and amazing for a first effort and it just reminded me how she has always amazed me with her quiet hidden abilities that she will just whip out to accomplish some task that is placed before her.
I have to always remember; she is my best friend, she is amazing, she is my Mo Anam Cara and as long as I have her and the boys, everything is fine and everything will continue to be fine.
I am grateful that I feel like myself and I am happy today.
For most of my life I have had two best (maie) friends, they were the closest people to me, I never let anyone get as close as them. I am now, with Kim and we will discuss that sometime. Four years ago, one of them, call him Roy; he shot and killed himself, seemingly without warning. Perhaps it is understood that it was drug and alcohol related. I came so close to shutting down entirely at his funeral. Then I crawled into the bottle deeper and stayed there for years and the grieving continues and is still intense when it catches up with me.
I am coming up on two years clean and sober, which I think plays into my anguish over my other best friend we will call him Duncan. He had a problem with IV drugs and has been clean, but not sober for the last three years. Since the revelation that his wife was pregnant last year, he has been hitting the bottle hard, even when sober he is moody and unapproachable about serious topics, walling himself off. His beautiful daughter is several months old now and though he loves her, he is a mess. He gets drunk and belligerent, just this weekend verbally attacking me and Kim and only half joking with threats of physical violence. He gets to rambling and slurring and saying cruel things, then simply angry but not making any sense at all. His wife, whom I also consider a good friend, has been patient with him and stood by him through some serious misbehavior and she is being taxed to her limit. Duncan has always suffered from a self-loathing put there by his father, now I am sure he is certain that his wife and daughter would be better off without him and he is doing everything he can to self-destruct and push them away and it is breaking my heart to watch it happen. I am no idiot, I know if he succeeds in pushing them away what comes next. He will start using again and either overdose or purposefully end his own life, the very thought hollows me out and then fills me with pain. I have no idea how I could weather another dead friend, much less another suicide. So, I am heartbroken and at the same time angry. I am coming into a wonderful time in my life, one that should and could fill me with joy and peace, one that I have looked for and always anticipated sharing with him and his wife. Although my new life, sober, with Kim and the kids does provide me those things, the worry and heartache of Duncan are never far from my mind and when I try to share my joy he simply spills his misery on it. We are supposed to be happy now, he has an amazing wife and career that can go places, we have cobbled together a giant family that enjoys one another’s company and looks out for one another. Instead, I stand here happy with my life, which in spite of some challenges has many more blessings than I probably deserve, while he pisses on what he has and tries to throw it away. So there is that heartache that often distracts me from my happiness.
Then there is the little farmer, Kim’s eldest, who is struggling for acceptance not only from his peers, but from adults too. He is a beautiful and unique child and in spite of circumstance and lacking unconditional acceptance from his peers and many adults, I suspect including his father, he still has his mother’s warm and wonderful heart and there is still time to make sure he keeps it. I see a powerful creative energy bouncing around in him and just waiting to be directed and unleashed. We will find the right thing and he will thrive, but for now, his largely unfulfilled quest for acceptance and praise causes him pain, which causes her and I pain, her of course to a much larger degree. My tribe, my family is almost entirely comprised of people who in their childhood were just like the little farmer boy, different, struggling for acceptance and uncertain of their place in the world. I know I didn’t prepare most of them for him, but I figured they would just see it, like I did. He wanted so badly to have them see him this weekend and embrace him. Duncan, who should know better, seemingly with direct intention, showed him nothing but rejection. To my embarrassment and shame my people, all of whom should be able to empathize with the young man, did not behave as I would have expected and did little or nothing to give him what he was looking for. This also breaks my heart.
The truth be told though, in spite of these pains and other challenges, like finances and my own quest for job security, I am happier than I ever have been and while I don’t know the details of how to pull it all together, I am excited about Kim and I’s future. Funny how the places I rejected and was certain would not bring me joy or fulfillment are exactly where they are ending up coming from, kids, family, home instead of work, peace, quiet. I must find a permanent job, a secure job. I want to ask Kim to marry me, but I want that security first, without it I feel like I am constantly a hair’s breath from being an albatross instead of a partner. And be it large or small I want to provide the best wedding possible for her and to go somewhere after, whether just her and I or with the boys. I pray constantly for some opportunity to present itself and I search constantly for it on my own. So, if you are listening universe; I am grateful for Kim, for the boys, for all of my blessings, but I could do much more for them and others if the right opportunity came along, so if you can make that happen, that would be great.
Well, I should get focused on work. By for now!
the Impending Doom makes a couple quick passes at your life. By and by things are fine, a little stressful but we are getting the house we want, signed the boys up for a great summer program that should benefit them in an untold number of ways, I have Kim and the boys and I am busy and feeling useful at work. But, there are things, this week I have been:
- Crazy Sick with a horrid case of chronic bronchitis, complete with bronchial spasms which has cost a ton of money we didn’t need to be spending right now
- In one auto accident that was my fault (don’t cough and drive) and accelerated the need to have my car looked at and repaired
- Had to run all over Troy, Livonia and places in between
- Gotten very little sleep and still not accomplished the bulk of what needs done
And then, there was yesterday. I called about the summer program for the boys and found out there was a mandatory orientation coming in the evening and it would be our last chance. The plan had been to get to the clinic for my lungs and go do laundry or pack. Instead I made my way over to Troy to meet up with Kim and go to the orientation. On my way, on the freeway not far from my exit something fun happened.
I was cooking along at 70 in the right lane, a couple hundred yards ahead of me was a white work van, attached to it was one of those small trailers that you can haul a car or boat or something on. On each side of the trailer, covering the otherwise exposed tires are two car tire sized, heavy fenders. I watched as the van hit a bump and one of them tore off, at first I thought the entire wheel had come off. With myself traveling at 70 and I suppose the heavy metal fender hurtling toward me, bouncing and jumping off the concrete, time froze and I watched considering the trajectory which was going to have it slamming into my windshield, directly in front of my face. A single thought, my usual singular thought in these moments was “Oh, this is a stupid way to go out“.
I was on the phone with Kim and when time unfroze, I yelped out something, looked to my left, there was a car next to me, so I veered left as far as I could, hit the brakes and braced for impact. The fortunate maneuvering left the fender striking the upper right corner of my hood, then glancing on the windshield, leaving a nice spider crack, but me still breathing and my car still operating. The van drove on like nothing happened and I just resigned myself to heading to Kim’s work.
We made our way to B&G orientation and that went fine, very good and encouraging in fact. We followed up with dinner where we talked about how wonderful it was that everything was falling into place. After that it was off to the clinic, I will skip the stupid details there but suffice to say it was under staffed, busy and we were there two hours. Another hour wasted at the pharmacy left us near home at close to midnight, Kim was in her car directly in front of me and suddenly driving uncharacteristically slow, then Hazard lights. Fuck, all I could do was laugh about it for a while, then I got very frustrated and angry with the universe, her car was dead, either from lack of oil or from the oil turning to sludge. We left her car there, but I am certain I didn’t sleep until 2 or later last night; anger and brief outburst and (wonderful) sex came first.
So, we were up and out the door early this morning so I could drop her off at her companies Troy office, got her there, headed to work in Livonia myself and was about half way there when she called and asked if could come back and get her. This is where the story starts to get incredulous, some fucking belligerent knuckle-head made threats against the office she works at! What the F. I have to admit Doom, even for you this getting creative. So, it is turning around and heading back to get her, wondering the whole time if I will get there before this maniac. I did and who knows if he is actual going there at all, but none-the-less I wasn’t gonna leave her there to find out.
Finally, I got to work, she went to her companies nearby office. I am exhausted, sickly and have been trucking from arrival until I paused to write this. What a damn week~
When I was growing up there were a few spots in town and a few nearby towns where I thought the residents must be rich, certainly far better off than me. Clearly, Grosse Pointe was on that list, in fact anywhere along Jefferson avenue, near the water. I wondered constantly what it might be like to live in one of those places, what it was like in the houses.
This weekend I signed a lease with Kim on a big, beautiful house in Harrison Twp, not two miles from where I grew up, now I will be living in one of those areas that I wondered so much about when I was growing up. For myself I am thrilled about the kitchen, Kim loves the house overall and the master bedroom. The boys of course will benefit from being in a neighborhood, near the beach and hopefully having other kids to play with, not to mention the school district.
The grocery store that worked at from the age of 16 until 18 or nineteen is just around the corner from the house and we will do our shopping there. I am excited about being closer to our family and friends and in a very familiar area. I am also elated that Kim and I finally get a place and chance to start fresh, start settling things down and putting everything in proper place, a place that has never belonged to anyone in our own lives, but us together, someplace that is truly ours.
Currently my levity is a suppressed by a troublesome cold, while in a coughing fit this morning I slammed into someone on the freeway. The poor girl was very distressed by the accident, so much so that she thought she hit me and that the person who slammed into her had driven off. That gave me pause, I wish I could say I didn’t think about taking off right then. But alas, I stayed and took my ticket. It took forever for the police to get there, in the mean-time an old black man driving a CVS Pharmacy van stopped, apparently they work with the police to gather information and relay it to dispatch when they come across accidents. Isn’t that wild?
Well, back to work I guess.
In spite of a massive shake up at work and plenty of things to be nervous and excited about, 2pm found me falling asleep at my desk again yesterday. The VP was fired which was a bag of mixed emotions for me since he was the one that was supposed to be extending me a job offer to go full time with the company. It was announced during a morning breakfast meeting and the President then proceeded to hammer all of us about the terrible working culture we had created for ourselves, complaining that we are not respectful and professional enough with one another. He again urged us not to get so stressed and try to find the humor in how totally fucked things are operationally. From a profit perspective we are doing great.
That sense of doom crept up on me again for a bit, but I found a nice project to work on and managed to co-author an important paper with our chief architect. For reasons still unknown to me there was a permeating smell of acetone or kerosene coming from the ventilation system, perhaps the bastards down in the factory trying to kill us? Who knows, but it was more than unpleasant.
Eventually I cruised home (to Kim and the boys, not the basement), fielding a call from my mother on the way. My mother who is convinced that I have no life to keep me busy so I must just be resentfully ignoring her. We have a complex relationship. There is no single human being on the planet for whom I have less patience and sometimes the most mundane of conversations with her can leave me feeling irritable. She is mostly deaf, has been for the better part of my life but has never learned to read lips or comprehend through context. Years of smoking and drinking have left my throat badly scarred and one of my least favorite things in the world to do is raise my voice, which I have to do with her for every conversation. Then there is her need to give advice and argue, which she loves to combine. When she is convinced that she is right about something she becomes in her stalwart defense of her position, like a dumb and savage animal, impossible to reason with. So her calling to ask for my help, turned into an argument about whether or not I should change jobs should the opportunity arise.
After the mild irritation of speaking with Mom, I arrived back at the farmhouse to find Young Farmer in the yard with a mess of chicken wire and some tools, he ran to me to explain that he was going to “put a fence so the chickens don’t leave the property” in the event that they escape one of the coops. I looked down at the small spool of chicken wire, box of nails and hammer, then at the length of the property along the road, which may be as long as two football fields. I simply smiled at the boy, thinking to myself that while I admired his ambition the chances of success were desperately slim.
It was my intention to come in and get started on dinner, some Pesto with Fettuccine. Kim was passed out on the couch with the Senator sprawled on top of her happily watching Indiana Jones. I started gathering supplies to cook when I got a most pleasant surprise when I took the lid off of the big pot. There in the pot was a copy of Shantaram the Gregory David Roberts novel about his escape from prison and subsequent adventures in India. I had been reading it online and mentioned that I wanted to get it; the gesture made me very happy.
Then it was dinner and a long discussion about how to get me moving on catching up on my debts, I was a very stupid monkey last year and will spend a few years making up for that. Of course the entire time I was glad for the help but mostly thinking about sex, which I was certain was coming as soon as the kids went to bed.
Unfortunately by the time she put them down, staying with YF for a bit to talk about a problem at school, exhaustion had overtaken me and I passed out on the couch five minutes into watching an episode of Caprica. Aside from lack of sleep, I cannot figure out why I am so damn tired all of the time these days.
It is once gain two o clock and my eyes are trying to close on me.