Little Bits of Pixie Dust

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thourougly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO, what a ride!!"

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Last week was C.'s last swimming lesson (to no one's surprise, he difinitively did NOT pass the level that he was in, and the teacher actually looked really sorry to tell me that he probably needed to go down two levels, but I'm okay with that because he is obviously taking after his mother in the being good at sports department.) so with it being his last time A* decided that he would like to come and watch his precious boy in the water. He hadn't been able to come due to work commitments and some other stuff before, so A* had never witnessed the lessons.

I know I told you that C. was awful, but I don't know if I mentioned the fact that he is absolutely terrified the entire time that he is there.  Terrified, yet having fun, which doesn't make one bit of sense to me but whatever, he was always REALLY excited to go and REALLY proud of himself when he was done.  Anyway, he basically tells the teacher that he doesn't want to do whatever it is that she's asking him to do, she coaxes and encourages, and eventually he will sort of halfway do what she's asking, the whole time clutching her arms in a death grip.  He stands at the side of the pool and literally shakes, out of fear or excitement or some combination of the two.  I have asked him before if it is just too much for him, if he wanted to keep doing it, and he looked at me like I was crazy and assured me that swimming lessons are his favorite thing ever and he never wants to stop going.  So I shoved my motherly protective insticts down my throat every Saturday morning and let the boy swim.

But I guess I didn't convey to A* exactly how he was, and A* seriously LOST HIS SHIT.  C. started trembling and A* slid to the edge of his seat, a hand hovering uselessly in the air like he was about to pat him or scoop him up or something.  I reassured A* that this happened every week.  He stayed on the edge of his seat.  C. finally entered the water and then A* started "encouraging".  I'm all about it, I tell him what a good job he's doing all the time, but not while the teacher is instructing an entire class.  "GOOD JOB, C.!" A* yelled loudly, and five wet heads turned to look at C.'s weird daddy.  I hissed at him to wait until the teacher was done talking, and A* got all huffy and said he was just trying to make him FEEL better, my God do you torture the child like this every week?  At one point during the lesson the teacher was taking the kids one by one down the pool while they floated on their backs.  Please know that not once did the teacher let go or remove her hand from the child's back.  When it was C.'s turn, he of course told her that he didnt' want to do it, she told him it would be fun, and he reluctantly put the very back of his head in the water and went on down the pool.  At one point he sat up, eyes bulging, probably to see how far it was back to the wall, and I had to physically restrain A* from jumping into the water fully clothed and saving his PRESSSHHHIOUS BABY BOY.  You know, because the liscensed teacher and the six lifeguards probably couldn't handle it. 

After the lesson was over, A* let out a huge breath of air, wrapped C. in a towel and held him close.  C. pulled away and said, "Mommy, can I come back tomorrow?" And A*'s head exploded.  I don't think he will be attending any more lessons in the near future.  God help us if the kid ever wants to play a contact sport.

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Obligatory Mother's Day Post...with some Angst!

On Mother's Day C. came and sat on my lap and asked me, "So since it's Mother's Day, does that mean I have to smile at you all day?"  and I told him that yes, that is definitely something that needs to happen on Mother's Day.  The whole rest of the day, whenever he would catch my eye he would paste the most garish, clown-like grin on his face.  I loved it.  The only other thing I asked for was a nap, which A* also graciously gave me.  It was wonderful; slipping into the covers while the sun streamed in through the window, and knowing that no little fingers (or sometimes other body parts) would be attacking me and pulling me out of bed.

That being said, this Mother's Day was a hard one for me.  My mom and I aren't on the best of terms right now, and it was the first time in my thirty two years on this Earth that I didn't see her.  Playing a childish game, I waited to see if she would get in contact with me at all; when it was 6:00 and she still hadn't, I broke and sent her a text message.  It was short and sweet, just "Happy Mother's Day, I love you." and she did write back, basically the same thing.  But nothing is the same.  My mom and I used to be so close; I didn't make any decisions whatsoever without running them by her, and I never went more than a day without talking to her.  We were friends as well as mother and daughter, and I cherised our relationship. 

It's hard to grow up and realize that your parents aren't perfect.  When we're kids, our parents are our whole world; our heroes, our role models, our everything.  Once we get a little older, the magic starts to fade a little.  I always thought my mom hung the moon in the sky, and it is hard for me now that I don't believe that anymore.  I did exactly what my mom said to do, how she said to do it, when she said to do it.  As an adult, I am making my own choices and following my own path, and some of those things are not what my mom would have chosen.  Instead of supporting me in these decisions and maybe just being there in case I fall, my mom has decided that she can't be there for me at all, regardless of whatever the situation is.  As I have said before, my parents absolutely hate A*, for reasons that I may go into in the future.  My mom is completely disappointed in me that this last seperation didn't stick and that I'm attempting to work things out with my husband.  Some of her points are even valid points.  However, it isn't her choice to make.  It is my family, my husband, my decision to make, and the fact that I went against what she thought was right is just unacceptable to her.  She can't come to terms with it, and she can't get over A*.  Nothing I can do or say (or anything HE can do or say) will change that, not unless the world implodes and pigs are racing across the sky and Hell announces it's new ice skating rink. 

The fact is, she's making things weird and uncomfortable for C. and I don't know what to say to him.  I never want to keep C. from her, he loves her, but in the past she has made some threats and it seems like when she's mad I don't know exactly what she will do.  I hope all this hatred is worth it for her; I don't want my son to learn that, I want him to learn forgiveness and giving people another chance.  I never thought she was a spiteful person, never thought she was one to hold a grudge... in fact, I've never SEEN her hold a grudge until this one. 

So I didn't see her on Mother's Day.  And it sucked really badly.  And I missed her really badly.  I still think I was lucky enough to have one of the best mom's ever growing up; her shine is tarnished a little, but nothing can take away those magical times we had together.  I just miss her. 

Luckily I had a goofily grinning almost five year old to take my mind off things.

Wednesday, May 08, 2013

With a Splash

So swimming lessons. C. is taking them right now, and I’m afraid he has inherited my sports ability… which is not so much an ability as it is a handicap. As you may have read, I was a swimmer starting from the age of about nine until I graduated from high school. I dropped a couple of seconds here and there, but for the most part the swimming skills I had at nine were the same ones I had at seventeen, and I was really slow. To demonstrate to you just HOW slow (and please keep in mind that in the sport of swimming it is all about the SPEED and how fast you go) I was regularly put in a lane with mentally and physically handicapped members of the team. And they usually beat me. Whatever, for some reason it didn’t really bother me, I was mostly there to socialize and be able to eat like a cow and still maintain a good figure. Every once in a while I would get depressed about not being in the “cool” fast lane, but I got over that fast and just kept talking. *Ironically, five seconds ago while I was in the middle of writing this post, I went to throw an empty tissue box in the trash can, which was MAYBE an inch in front of me, and missed. My co-worker said, “A little bit of athletic ability is all I ask of you. Just a little.”

Anyway, see how I am? I started off talking about C. and I just selfishly begin to blather on about myself. Last year at the end of the summer he was getting pretty brave in his wading pool, dumping buckets of water on his head and going down the slide with abandon, so this year I wanted to make sure he was safe when the time came to start swimming. I thought he would also love the novelty of swimming inside while it was still cold outside, and it would be a good chance for him to socialize with other kids. Well, he does love the lessons and is infatuated with one of his fellow swimmers, Olivia. However, and it pains me to admit this, C. is the absolute worst swimmer in the class. Everyone else is swimming around like little fishes, their whole bodies submerged under water. C. refuses to even entertain the idea that his face may get wet at some point. When the teacher has them do bobs, all the other kids go all the way to the bottom and push themselves up… C. slowly lowers himself down on his arms until his chin touches the water, and then he comes back up. He is terrified to be on his back, even with the teacher holding him in some kind of wrestling hold. He never lets go of the wall, ever ever. His hair is never wet at the end of the lesson.

BUT… the grin on his face stretches from one ear to the other. The whole time he is yelling, “Mommy! Mommy! Mom, did you see that? Did you see what I did?” He works so, so hard. While we are changing into his swim suit he tells me he’s nervous, and that his legs are shaking because he’s so nervous, but he goes out and gets in that water every damn time. He is polite and respectful of the teacher, and loves to tell me what the other kids were doing or what is on their bathing suit. And of course, there is always Olivia, who he blows bubbles companionably with while they wait their turn to use kickboards. I am so proud of him every week, and if he has to take the class again, and even again, that’s totally fine with me.

I’ll always be cheering for him.