This morning, Seth couldn’t drag himself out of bed. He’d wanted me to wake him up early so he could take a shower and wash his hair, but when I went in to get him, he said he wanted to sleep longer. And half an hour later when I went in, he said he just wanted to sleep, that he was so tired, he’d fallen asleep in every class yesterday and he just wanted to sleep. I suggested he get through the day and go to bed early tonight, but this only brought down invective on my head, including, “You’re the worst mom ever!”, which in Seth-speak means, “Please just tell me I can stay in bed and don’t make me make the decision myself!” Ok, so I told him he could stay in bed. I can’t tell you how unusual it is for him not to want to go to school, so there must be a reason he needs to. It’s 3 hours later now and he’s still up there.
What I really have been wanting to write about is Jane.* This morning I got up, looked at my email (despite having read Never Check Email in the Morning by Julie Morgenstern, a very practical book), and promptly felt eviscerated by Jane’s latest to me. This feeling was carried into my morning with the boys, making me somewhat distant and also very protective of them. So I wasn’t really dealing with them, at that moment, I was actually dealing with some kind of situation I create in my mind having to do with the fact that Jane is in their lives, she has influence over them, I don’t have them all the time, I have to protect them from her craziness, etc., etc. It totally makes me crazy, which in turn effects the boys. It is a very difficult conundrum, and it is extremely unfair to the boys. Who are basically just fine. Who are living their lives and are JUST FINE! Yes, there are things I have to do to make sure Jane and I are more or less on the same page about logistics – hey! I just spent a year from hell getting a parenting agreement in place with her for help with this! – but I think it really is partly me who allows her slime to creep into my own daily life. And the boys’ lives. And my Beau’s life.
I don’t know how to have a good divorce. I’ll just have to go on learning for the rest of my life. There are times – like this morning – when I feel very viscerally that I can’t go on, I just can’t go on. And then I’m fixing home fries, kissing Owen goodbye and feeling the good mama feeling when he says back to me that he loves me and tells me to have a good day, brushing the dog’s teeth (he has a little green toothbrush with froggies on it!), checking on Seth, calling the school, sending my Beau on her way after numerous false starts (forgot her lunch, her keys, then we’d better kiss one more time, etc.). And I am going on, and I have to believe that every time I do, every time I stuff my guts back into my poor belly and stitch myself up, that I’m getting a little better at it, a little tougher, a little more indifferent to Jane’s spray of shrapnel. Because I do know that the best I can do for the boys is be grounded and happy in my own life, and that so does not include allowing Jane to run things. I do have to fend her off, but more importantly, I have to fend myself off. And go on. So sayeth I, and so sayeth, I am realizing right now, The Damned! Anyone remember this song?
*aka, my ex and the boys’ other mom. I realized that I’ve called her by at least two other pseudonyms in this blog, so why stop now?
The Total Femme 