A Common Anomaly

I’ve complained quite a bit about the bugs, but the incident last night… That was something else.

A praying mantis came out of nowhere and landed on my TV. Just in case you missed that: A PRAYING MANTIS. On my TV. Seriously. Those big nasty waterbugs most likely come up from under the house and ants creep in through cracks and little holes, but a praying mantis? Where the hell did that come from?

Normally when some freaky looking bug makes its presence known I try to keep my cool for Tristan’s sake. I turn my squeal into a nervous chuckle and lure him away while I try to come up with a plan of attack, but there was just something about that huge, creepy bug with its prominent front legs and big rotating head that damn near unhinged me. I screamed bloody murder and laughed like a maniac and danced around with a broom while Tristan looked on and astutely observed: “UH OH!”

After I gave the beast a half-assed beating with the broom in order to persuade it NOT to fly at my head I managed to slide a piece of cardboard under it and then tossed it outside. How the hell did that monster get into my house? I hate this house. When I first walked into it I was able to overlook the ugly brown carpet, lack of a shower, and crappy layout because of its fabulous location. I can walk to the grocery store and the doctors office! Yay! But SHIT! It’s a poorly constructed house that is coming apart at the seams. I was in the living room this morning and I actually felt Mina jump from the bathroom sink to the window. This house vibrates and creaks and moans. It sounds like it’s on its deathbed.

Unfortunately it’ll be a while before I can afford to move again. I’ll make it a goal of mine, something to look forward to once I get my finances in order.

Tristan is keeping me on my toes. The good days are amazing and the bad days… God give me strength. A couple of days ago my sister took me to Wal-Mart and he threw his first really horrible public temper tantrum. He threw himself on the ground and started screaming his head off because I tried to get him out from under some poor lady’s feet. I admit he took me by surprise and for a moment I stood there like an idiot, clutching his flailing arm, my mouth agape. Luckily my sisters husband Dave was there and he scooped Tristan up and calmed him down pretty quickly. Tristan LOVES Dave. It makes me want to have a man around, you know? I’m sure poor Tristan needs a break from all the estrogen sometimes!

Anyway, I’m tired and cranky and yet delighted because today has been a good day so far. This morning Tristan found my nightgown and walked around while holding it up to his chest as if he was wearing it.

She was originally going to get married in November but then she found out she’s pregnant. Since she already has a dress she loves they decided to get married now while she can still fit into it! I didn’t mention her pregnancy before because I wanted to make sure she had a chance to let everyone know herself, but I’m really excited! I remember the day she found out. She suspected it but was reluctant to test so I made her go to the store (and drink a bottle of water) while I bought the pregnancy test myself.

I think the whole family is hoping it’s a girl. My poor father will have a heart attack if it isn’t! It will either be the first girl or the sixth boy between us!

Crap, I’ve gotta go clean the kitchen. I’m so distracted lately. Sleepy and forgetful. Remi…

I wrote, or started to write, two different posts this past week but before I could finish either one my mind suddenly went blank and I realized that it all sounded forced. I have nothing to say.

Well, actually, I have too much to say but most of the things that are happening right now and my very strong feelings about those things will only be discussed with my closest and most trusted friends. It’s very unlike me to keep mum on a topic that is affecting me so strongly. I’m usually so open. Maybe it’s all just too fresh, too raw. Even for me.

Yesterday the power went out for a few hours. Within minutes, it seemed, my house was an oven. I realized I have no candles and one little flashlight and hoped the power would come back on before it got dark. Tristan was not bothered by any of it for even a moment. I made him a cup of juice with ice and we sat on the front porch listening to the approaching thunderstorm and enjoying the storm-breeze. I started to read a book but found myself stopping every minute or so to swat mosquitoes off of me and my oblivious son. It didn’t take long for the heat to drive everyone out of their houses and soon all my neighbors were hanging out in little clusters, dewy skinned and fanning themselves, the neighborhood children darting noisily around them.

Tristan watched the big boys run and tumble and he yelled toddler-speak at them from the porch, but showed no inclination to join them. He sipped his juice and munched on his crackers until the deep, slow headache that had been building in my brain finally burst into a full blown migraine and we had to go back inside so I could lie down. I stripped Tristan down to his diaper and occasionally rubbed us both down with cool water until the power finally came back on, just as it was starting to get dark.

Kostyantyn has been bugging me to let him come stay for a while so he can visit with Tristan. Or, as he wisely put it, so he can cook and clean for me and take care of baby (Tristan is still a baby in his ever-absent eyes).

Being big and pregnant and thoroughly exhausted it’s very tempting to say yes. Then there’s the money he’ll bring with him. God knows I could use some help if I’m ever going to save enough to get my shit out of storage in NYC (the biggest bill hanging over my head). But then, his presence here will be very inconvenient considering I’ve decided that I don’t want to deal with his stupidities anymore. Hell, I know exactly how it’ll go. He’ll behave himself and I’ll watch my temper as much as I’m able until I find myself having the same conversation for the gazillionth time:

“Rach, you think maybe we could try again to be together?”
“Are you on crack?”
“No, I just wanna be with you. I change!”
“My ass, you change.”
“But Rach!”
“Not a chance in hell, Russkie.”

My verbal spitballs roll off of him like water off a duck’s back. He’s thick-headed and living entirely in his own little world, so there’s no need to candy coat things with this one. He’ll just shrug off my rejection and keep quiet on the subject until I’ve calmed down and almost relaxed back into routine and then he’ll drop it on me again. I can handle that, though.

How can I deny a man the right to see his child? And how, OH HOW, can I deny him the privilege of cleaning my dirty dishes? My glorious, crusty dishes? Men everywhere are dying for the chance to take over my domestic duties, practically ripping each other to shreds to get to my kitchen sink. Surely I should let that coveted boon go to the father of my children.

Oy.

In all seriousness, I do feel lucky sometimes that my ex lives over a thousand miles away, but if he genuinely wants to spend time with Tristan… Well, that little boy deserves all the love and attention he can get.

I’ve been talking about how I need a break from my booger and I think I’ve almost got things arranged so that I can go see a movie with Carissa on Thursday. Woo! I don’t even care what movie. Maybe we’ll even stop at a restaurant and I”ll actually have a meal completely devoid of fussing, crying, and squealing. Whoa…

I can’t even.. I just… You know?

Yesterday I went to visit with my mother for a few hours since she really needs support with what she’s going through. Carissa picked up Tristan and off I went. It’s such a funny combination of relief and intense worry I feel when I’m away from him. I’m always so eager for a break from him but when I finally get it I’m missing him horribly within 10 minutes. When I got home I texted Carissa to let her know she could bring him back but apparently he had knocked out. I spent the hour after that doing absolutely nothing. Just waiting for him. And when he got home I felt an intense rush of happiness that stayed with me for the rest of the day.

It was nice having the chance to miss him a little, to appreciate all the beautiful mess and fuss he makes when he’s home. And it was absolute JOY to get him back. I could gush on and on, but I’ll stop now.

I talked to my father today and we started arguing, debating really but I get worked up sometimes, about some family drama. I just melted down and cried. I don’t allow myself to do that very often and I was a little surprised by all the frantic emotion that came pouring out of me. I’ve been keeping it together so well. I’m certainly stressed out, worried as hell about what I’m going to do, but I didn’t realize I was holding so much in while I was strutting about in my armor. Then I decided, what the hell, I damn well earned those tears.

OH! I am currently without TV.  Seriously. I have Dish Network and on Saturday I got an error message on my TV telling me the signal had been lost so I called customer support. They were useless and unable to fix the problem so they said they’d send a technician to my house (the soonest day being Tuesday, and keep in mind this was Saturday). Oh, and that’ll be 15 dollars, Miss.

???

It’s not like 15 bucks is a load of cash or anything, but I’m already paying monthly for their services and it boggles my customer-service-centered brain that I should have to pay 15 dollars more because their shit isn’t working. So now I’m torn between my principles and my love of TV. When I complained about the absurdity of it to the helpful lady on the other line she pointed out that Dish Network would generously replace whatever faulty equipment is causing the problem free of charge. Well, slap my ass and call me Judy! We’re SAVED!

The book I ordered on cultural anthropology came in the mail today. I guess I’ll be reading that instead of watching TV. Probably a more enriching way to spend my limited free time. But how will I distract Tristan while I’m trying to get chores done??? Perhaps he might find the topic of human diversity and responses to challenging globalization issues very interesting. Possibly.

Crap. I’ve only got 3 or 4 kid friendly DVD’s… I’ll have to borrow some from my sister.

I’ve been going back and forth in my head about what I would prefer the sex of the baby to be. I kept finding myself saying that I hope it’s a boy. But then I’d see cute pink baby shoes and frilly flower dresses and I’d hope for a girl. Mostly I thought about how cool it would be if Tristan had a little brother. But then again, it would be nice if I had a girl because then I’d have one of each.

I went for the ultrasound yesterday, and my father and sister Angel came with me. My father was loud and made inappropriate comments, and even talked on his cell a little, but I expect that kind of thing from him. The ultrasound technician, to my pleasure, mostly just ignored him. She did her thing, checking the heart, taking measurements, and then after a little chasing she told me what I already knew.

Family, friends, meet Remiel Sebastian Adams!

I KNEW IT!  I knew it. I’ve been calling the baby “he” in conversations. Usually you say you think you’re having a girl when you really want a boy, and vice versa, so as not to jinx yourself, but I knew. My dad, who has 4 grandsons already, really wanted it to be a girl. I think a lot of the family feels the same. They’ll just have to wait until Carissa gets knocked up because I’VE GOT MY BOYS!

I’m over the moon! Yeah, I’m sure I’ll still sigh whenever I see frilly pink baby clothes but I’m so deeply happy right now. I can’t wait to meet my little Remi. I wonder if he’ll have blue eyes like his father or dark eyes like Tristan. I can’t even begin to picture what he’ll look like. Tristan is simply gorgeous and I’m sure Remi will be a handsome little devil too.

Holy crap I’m excited!

I haven’t forgotten about the near break-in. After the ultrasound I went out and bought a rifle, which I will now have to learn to shoot. I’ll be taking other security measures, too. I have to say, I’m not sorry this happened. It has pushed me to consider safety by reminding me that shit happens, and now I’ll be far more prepared for any future incidents.

No one wants to think about these things, but they should. I’ve got my family to protect and there’s no knight in shining armor to do it for me.

I’d like to end on a cheerful note, though. I’M HAVING A BOY!

Today is a special day. One year ago today I got on a plane with my son and left the fuss and chaos of New York City for the slow nothings of Crapstink, Arkansas. You can read about my decision to move here, and my thoughts right after the move here.

My sister Vanessa had flown out to NYC early so that she could spend a day in the city and then travel back with me. I had insisted on someone flying with me, since I was a nervous wreck and I knew I couldn’t handle Tristan alone on an airplane. As it turned out we spent more than an hour just sitting on a runway and Vanessa, with patience that awed me, managed my cranky little son.

Kostya had been in charge of calling for a car, so of course when the driver showed up I spotted immediately that he was Russian. The whole drive to the airport he kept turning around to ramble at Kostya in Russian. He talked about Tristan a little, and talked to him, his voice going all high pitched. Vanessa kept giving me that look of hers, raised eyebrows and all, the one that says “Uh HUH.”

At the airport Kostya clung to Tristan and I stood nearby, chomping at the bit. The nerve it took for me to do what I was doing was propelling me forward and I admit that I didn’t have the patience for drawn out goodbyes.

Yeah, it took nerve. The moment I graduated from high school I hightailed it out of Arkansas and swore I’d never go back, so I felt defeated moving back here. And I was scared out of my mind. I had talked to my father and Vanessa and made them swear they’d help me out with Tristan if I moved back because I just didn’t know how I’d do it alone.

Then and Now

I lived out of a suitcase for a while. I slowly acquired the little conveniences I needed for Tristan. I say conveniences because after losing or leaving behind nearly all my earthly possessions more than once I’ve learned that one actually needs very little to survive. As long as Tristan had what he needed (and wanted, which was very little) I felt secure.

I stayed with Vanessa and then moved in with my sister Carissa and her boyfriend since they had a spare room. A teeny tiny one, but I could finally have my own space. For a while I struggled just to get through each day. Tristan was incredibly cranky and I was really sick from the gallbladder problems so I spent every moment I could curled up with a pillow on the couch, drowsy as hell from the nausea medication. I was used to having Kostya around to help with Tristan when I was too sick to get up. My weight dropped down to a sickening 88 pounds. More than once I thought about going back to New York, which would mean moving back in with Kostya. I needed help.

The gallbladder surgery was a nightmare. No one seemed to care (in fact Carissa referred to it as my “stupid surgery” whenever she got stuck with Tristan duty) and I was absolutely terrified. I know it’s not a major surgery or anything but being put under, feeling yourself slip away like that, is just plain scary. I needed someone. Family, a friend, anyone. Doesn’t matter, I guess. I survived!

Everything changed after the surgery. The very day I got home from the hospital was when Tristan started walking. The control and independence he gained when he started walking made him a much happier little guy, and with the help of the surgery I was feeling much better myself. I still struggled a little with the complete loss of freedom that came with being his sole caretaker, but I began to really enjoy each day with my son. I wasn’t just trying to get through the daily routine anymore.

When I moved out of Carissa’s house and into my own I really settled comfortably into my life as a single mother, but being Tristan’s sole caretaker is still difficult for me at times since I really don’t have any time at all for myself. I’d love to just go to a movie or out to eat sometime but it’s hard getting one person to watch Tristan and another to go out with me. I quickly realized that I can’t and don’t want to ask my family for help very often. I usually reserve those calls for help for when I’m feeling really ill, but most of the time I just try to deal on my own. As for an actual vacation? I’m thinking it’ll be many long years before I get a chance for one of those.

Sometimes I wish Tristan could spend some time with my sisters or my dad so that I could spend time with myself, but I totally get that they’re all busy and wrapped up in their own lives. Sometimes I wonder if it would be worth having Kostya around to help out, to carry some of the weight, but then I come to my senses.

Things definitely aren’t ideal right now, but if I’ve learned anything it’s that things are always changing. Tristan has infused my life with this light, this magic, and things will keep getting better.

One year ago today I swept my son up in my arms and we went out on our own. It’s hard. It’s so fucking hard to do this alone. I tense up and my heart throbs as I write those words. I’m weeping. I can’t possibly express enough how difficult it is. Or how absolutely amazing it is.

Motherhood has saved my life.

Holy crap, divorces are a messy business… When I heard my parents were divorcing I actually breathed a sigh of relief. I think they both deserve better and I want them to be happy. But the actual process of splitting up? Yuck. And YIKES.

Now I’m in danger of getting sucked into a sad family drama. I’ve always tried to be kind to my stepmother, even when she was anything but to me. After all, she’s very sick, and I always got the feeling from her that despite her wacky ways she really just wanted a normal life. A family. I can appreciate that. I’ve always wanted a family…

There was a huge amount of drama surrounding their decision to get divorced and Shannon called and asked me if I would let her stay with me until she got back on her feet. Of course I said yes. “Absolutely”. My dad didn’t like that. He went on and on about her, how horrible she is, and I defended her. I’ve always defended her. On the day she was supposed to show up at my house I cleaned like mad and tried to organize things so she’d have a place to put her stuff, and then I waited. And waited.

She never showed up. Then later I got a voicemail from her that blew me away. She had asked me not to tell my father she would be staying with me but of course my dad knew there was only a couple of places she would go, the most likely place being my house. So she leaves me a message saying she didn’t show up because I must have told my father she was staying with me and she didn’t want him to know were she would be living.

?

Then she hinted that the reason she didn’t want him to know was because she didn’t want there to be a scene in from of me and my son. A scene? She basically hinted that my father might come to the house and become violent. That shit pissed me off. Does she think I’m fucking stupid? I know my father. I know their history (I WAS THERE) and I know what they are both capable of now. And as a victim of domestic violence I take issue with a woman faking it to gain sympathy. Oh, not to mention, my father is the one that wanted to separate. He doesn’t want to see her, talk to her, or deal with her in any way, let alone get into some kind of brawl with her.

Not wanting to argue with her, and thereby get sucked onto the psychological battlefield, I never called her back. Then today my dad came over and started in on his usual rant about my stepmother and, as usual, I defended her (though perhaps not as earnestly as before). Then my dad had Angel call Shannon and put her on speaker phone.

I almost choked when I heard what Shannon had to say about me. I’m a liar, I betrayed her, I wouldn’t give her a place to stay… My first instinct was to snatch the phone out of Angel’s hand and give her a piece of my mind, but I didn’t. I wonder if she even realizes what she has done, if she knows she just stabbed her most staunch defender in the back. I’m sure she’ll realize it one day, but there’s no repairing this damage. I’ll be civil with her, but I will not champion her good traits or pep talk her anymore. I won’t defend her.

I’m a little sad. I feel sorry for her. But I am NOT going out in this mess. I’ll stay inside where it’s cozy and dry, thanks.

And what’s going on inside, you ask? Kostya sent some extra money this month and insisted I use it to buy Tristan this cute chair:

It’s so freaking adorable seeing him sit in his little man chair! He has completely ditched the little ottoman, though. He hoisted it up and tried to heave it into the kitchen trash, in fact. The boy sure knows how to make his point! He sits in the chair on occasion, but he seems to get more enjoyment out of seating his stuffed animals in it and mostly prefers to sprawl on the ground:

I am feeling SO much better lately. Still fighting off the occasional migraine, but I’m having more and more good days. Ah… The second trimester…

For the past couple of weeks I’ve really been struggling with the physical stresses of this pregnancy. The past few days especially I’ve been getting horrible migraines that require me to tie a black scarf around my head so that the sunlight doesn’t beat against my poor eyelids. I don’t know how many times a day I mutter: “I can’t do this!”

And yet I still manage to find joy. I’m sprawled on the couch grumbling “Why god, why?” when Tristan ambles over, climbs up and sits on my legs, and watches Sesame Street from his new favorite perch. I smile. He claps and giggles and then when he sees me clapping too he flashes me this blindingly beautiful smile that reminds me I can do this.

He blows me away, this child. He’s so happy, always ready to smile. He’s fearless and clever and he’s so eager to be helpful. I feel so lucky.

So much is going on right now. Both my parents are getting divorced. There’s all this chaos in the air and it scrambles my thoughts. Family secrets, old wounds, and a deep old anger threatening to rear its ugly head. But it doesn’t. I’m too tired for that. And busy. I just worry… Instead I bravely fend off my age old nemesis. I wont speak its dreaded name, though I’ll give you a hint: It starts with a D. I just keep trying to inject my blue with a bit a green. One day you’re up and the next day you’re down. Something to keep in mind, lest you become overwhelmed. Or content, for that matter.

Okay, enough of this cryptic blather. I saw the doctor today and got to hear the baby’s heartbeat for the first time. The doctor said it sounded perfect. I thought so too. He said he’d do an ultrasound at 20 weeks, which is disappointing because I want to see the baby NOW.  Blah blah, something about patience and virtue, blah blah.

My body is still changing. Rapidly. The picture to the left was taken about a week and a half to two weeks ago. The doctor said “Since this is your second pregnancy you may notice that you start showing sooner than the first time.”  YA THINK? I’m just happy he didn’t give me shit for being underweight. I’m 96 pounds as of today, that’s five pounds so far, despite the gut-wrenching nausea that has been my near constant companion.

The doctor I saw when I was pregnant with Tristan gave me shit for being too thin and then I went on to gain nearly 40 pounds. So she can just SUCK IT. No, this doctor is ok. As long as he doesn’t make me shove out another nine pounder. I think that might destroy me. I’m not going to think about that right now, though…

I’m tired. Deeply tired. I made the masochistic mistake of digging around in the past and all kinds of memories came flooding back. Old loves, old hatreds, old jealousies.  For a little while it felt like it might smother me and then it all just suddenly vanished in the flow of my daily life. My current reality.

I think I think too much.

I lost the internet for a little bit. THAT sucked. I doubt anyone (besides my mom) noticed that I was gone but I have to say, I missed everybody!

Quite a bit has happened. My sister Vanessa got married. I had fun at the rehearsal. Some wedding Nazi had the gall to snap at me “You need to control your child.” and this WHILE she’s telling me to get in my place so I can practice my bit. I may have lost my temper over that, just a little, especially because Tristan was behaving very well for his age. I might have used the word “Bitch” at some point (yeah, with a capital B). And some other pretty words. I swear, give an old broad a clipboard and she thinks she’s God! Other than that little annoyance I had a good time and gorged myself at the rehearsal dinner.

The wedding was pretty and I got to wear a cute pink dress and heels. The heels stopped being fun about half way through the ceremony, though. I caught the bouquet. It was hilarious. I had been all the way on the other side of the building when I heard someone calling me and I hauled ass and arrived just in time to catch the thing. Both me and my mother said, nearly at the same time, “Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.” Maybe I’ll get married one day just to freak everyone out… Haha, yeah, sure. I’ll have to post some pictures on Facebook as soon as I get them from my family.

I am obviously pregnant now. For a little while there I was paranoid that people would look at me and think I was just really bloated or had a pudgy gut but now there’s a definite baby bump there. It’s cute! And my boobs! Oh, the boobs! I am a little paranoid, though, about showing so much so soon. There’s only one in there, right? I’m having scary thoughts… GAH!

Tristan… My sweet little charmer! I’m enthralled. Whenever Sid the Science Kid comes on he runs and grabs his little microphone so he can be like Sid. It just cracks me up!

He got his hair cut. I had to do some damage control when I got home. Why can’t anyone in this town give a decent haircut? Or do I just always pick the wrong one? If you ask me there are a lot of “wrong ones”…

Something amazing started happening about a week ago. Tristan started cleaning up after me. I had changed his diaper quickly and then ran to do something urgent and when I came back for the diaper it was gone. Later when I walked in the kitchen I saw it in the trash can. I thought maybe it was a fluke thing but then, a couple days later, I left an empty wrapper on the coffee table and actually saw Tristan pick it up, trot to the trash can, and drop it in.

My son is awesome. Now I just have to watch him and make sure he doesn’t get carried away and start throwing everything in there (I did catch him dropping a toy in the trash the other day). Seriously, awesome…

The five things I most frequently say to Tristan every day:

.

Oh, the glorious ups and downs of motherhood!

My booger has turned into a little tornado. He’s started tearing the cushions off of the couch and raining clothes all over the living room. He’s forever climbing, running, grabbing! Luckily he has learned what “Put that back.” means and obeys, for the most part. When I told him to put his shoes back he ran into the room and put them with his other shoes, started to walk away, and then turned back to make sure they where both straight.

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Yesterday was quite a day. Vanessa had to go to Little Rock and didn’t have anyone to watch the boys so I took them. All three of them. If I can handle 3 rowdy kids and one very cranky toddler and not go completely bonkers then I’m pretty sure I can handle my two little ones, once the new addition arrives. My throat feels hoarse from yelling, because one must speak very loudly to be heard over the din of 4 running, jumping, hollering boys. That and I kept making throaty roaring noises to make Tristan’s cranky buns laugh.

It was a really interesting experience actually, playing referee, trying to keep everybody happy and entertained, figuring out when to let things go and when to be unyielding. A little taste of things to come.

And I hope I don’t get in trouble for letting the two older ones watch that scary movie. Hey, what are aunties for?