A Common Anomaly

Poop and puke ahead. Stop reading now if you are at all squeamish. You have been warned.

Last night Tristan started to get cranky and when he ran over to me and laid his head on my leg I could feel that he was a bit warm. He was just sick a couple of weeks ago so at first I couldn’t believe he was really sick again. He convinced me of the reality of his illness when he started to cry and then puked EVERYWHERE. He made sure to get a good puddle on the couch, splatter it on the floor, and, OF COURSE, give his teddy bear a good coating.

What ensued was madness.

I had just finished cooking a pot of cheesy jambalaya with kielbasa but I put a lid on it and rushed to get Tristan cleaned up. I tried to give him the nausea medication the doctor prescribed the last time I saw him but I could even smell how bad the stuff tasted and it only made Tristan throw up again. What the hell? What is the point of nausea medication that tastes so bad that you can’t even get it down? I got some Advil in him at least and once I got him in the bath he calmed down and even started to play with his bath toys and splash around in the water.

I was almost ready to get him out and turned around to get a towel and when I turned back he had done something that he’s only done once before, and then when he was only a couple of months old. He pooped in the tub. So many little pieces. I wont even describe to you the process of getting that mess cleaned up.

After I got Tristan out of the tub I found myself rushing around, cleaning up the carpet, pulling the covers off the couch cushions and gathering up pukey clothes and towels for the laundry, doing battle with the latest multi-colored mutant grasshopper, and trying to keep Tristan comfortable and relaxed until bedtime. It was nonstop. The one thing I didn’t get a chance to do was eat. It was only after I got Tristan settled in his bed with his freshly washed Teddy and cleaned up the kitchen a little that I finally got to sit my tired ass down and eat my dinner.

It got me thinking about how things will be when Remi is here. What if they both get sick at the same time? It’ll be the same madness of last night TIMES TWO. Even more frightening, what if all three of us are sick at the same time? I can just see it: I’m in migraine hell and scrambling around on shaky legs, trembling and gagging while attempting to soothe and care for two sick children, all the while cleaning up lots of puke and poop. We’ll get through it, of course, but it’ll still be hell. I imagine at some point I’ll break down and call someone for help.

I called Vanessa last night and told her my fear and asked her what I will do in that situation. She told me I’ll probably be doing some crying.

“But… But… But… WHAT WILL I DO?”

I guess it’s pointless to freak out over something that hasn’t happened yet. I’ll deal with Crazyland when I get there.

This morning was more calm than last night. I took Tristan’s temperature and then he took the thermometer and took his own temperature, and it wasn’t too high. Right now He’s snuggled on the couch with Eddy and some pillows, watching Sesame Street.

The mail came and I was delighted to find I had a package from Pediped.

Their shoes are “officially recognized by the American Podiatric Medical Association as contributing to better foot health”, and I’m fussy about things like that. Plus, they’re just really freakin’ cute. Unfortunately they run about fifty dollars a pair, which is way too much money for me to be spending on a pair of shoes right now even if they are incredibly stylish and well-made.

Then I checked the SALE page online. I found two adorable pairs of shoes that Tristan can wear this winter for $15 each! Seriously, this makes me all kinds of happy. I like being able to buy nice things for Tristan, so to find something I couldn’t otherwise buy at such a great price… HAPPY.

I should go take a nap. I don’t have a fever, but my stomach is starting to feel icky so I’m sure I’ve got whatever bug Tristan has. Pleh.

Yesterday I got a refrigerator. Finally. I’ve been using a compact fridge and it has not been fun. I’m absolutely ecstatic!

I’ve been wanting to get a full sized refrigerator  since I moved into this house but because I had the little one and money has been very tight I’ve just been making do. Yesterday when the new (used) one got here I was absolutely giddy and this morning I cheerfully emptied the old one and started arranging everything in the new one. So much space! So icy cold! No more slush instead of ice cubes! No more cramming in food so awkwardly that you have to unload the damn thing just to take out one item! Isn’t it wonderful, the splendid convenience of it?

And kind of sad how excited I am? I mean, don’t people generally consider having a full sized refrigerator a given? The way I see it, I’m building my new life from the ground up. I started off my life here with only two suitcases and now I have a relatively comfy little house. Sure, I must do battle with aliens (bugs) on a daily basis, and taking baths all the time because there is no shower can be frustrating, but I don’t expect, or even want, for things to be handed to me (much less on a silver platter).

It’s exhausting starting over with nothing. In some ways it feels like a failure. I have fallen. I have LOST. And it’s frightening, looking forward and seeing how far I have to go to reach a situation in life that I am truly satisfied with, but you know what? I’m going to struggle there on my own and respect myself all the more for it. That isn’t to say that I wouldn’t mind having someone to lean on every once in a while, but we’ll see…

I’m not made of stone, though sometimes I wish I was. I push myself to be strong, and then stronger. I think I’m going to try to give myself a break more often. Let myself cry my eyes out and laugh myself silly and pretty much just be the emotional woman that I am.

Sounds like a plan.

And yes, I see the humor in this post, that this little examination of my current life stems from me buying a refrigerator. It’s best not to take ourselves too seriously!

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.

“Understanding and resolving your own struggles, challenges, and emotional issues may be one of the greatest gifts you give your child.” – from Positive Discipline: The First Three Years

I hate asking for help. I’d rather suffer alone under the crushing weight of my problems than ask for help. So, when I DO come out and ask for help it’s a big deal. And I mean it.

Why do I continually allow myself to be upset by the immovable, the unchanging? Why would I expect someone who is hopelessly self-absorbed to pull his head out of his own ass for two seconds and see me? I understand that no man can truly comprehend another mans pain, but one can at least try. That’s compassion. I snapped at him for being such a jerk and amazingly, I felt guilty after.  Because I am compassionate. It makes me tired. Eh. I’m tired of crying over things I can’t control.

A couple days ago my father dropped by and we started talking about relationships and I mentioned that I was fine being alone. The following conversation ensued:

“Yeah, but you’re lonely.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“No, I’m REALLY not. I enjoy solitude.”

“No… You’re lonely.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m really not.”

It was comical and revealing. Am I so odd? Am I some kind of anomaly for not needing someone around, or is he just totally incapable of understanding people who have different needs than he does? What’s normal, anyway? I guess it depends on a fancy combination of character and upbringing.

There can’t be anything wrong with my preference for being alone as long as I’m happy. And I am. More happy than I’ve ever been in my life. Isn’t that enough for people? I’ve got years to figure out all the little details.

I got a box in the mail this past week. A big one, containing toys for Tristan (including a Tickle Me Elmo), and all of my maternity clothes from when I was pregnant with Tristan. I bought a LOT of cute clothes (back when I didn’t have to worry about rent)! I had Kostya go into my storage unit in Brooklyn to get the clothes, and it’s a huge relief because I don’t have money this time around to buy new ones. Kostya was in one of his helpful moods. Then a couple nights ago he flipped out because I informed him that as the person who will be doing ALL the work when it comes to the new baby (from growing it, birthing it, and raising it) he would get no say as to what his or her name is.

He did NOT take that well. I assured him I’d give the child his last name (along with mine, of course) as I did with Tristan but that I already have names picked out. I’ve had a boys name picked out since before I found out I was pregnant. I was lucky enough to have the name come to me, to KNOW that it was his. As for a girl… It’s a tie between two names, though I’m leaning more toward one than the other. Anyway, I guess it’s customary in Russia for the child’s middle name to be a patronymic, derived from the fathers first name.

I tried to be nice about it at first but he would not hear me so I told him, “Well, this ain’t Russia!” and then he almost sucked me into his favorite little battle of  “My country, your country” complete with “Fuck your country!” and “Americans are stupid!” before I told him to blow it out his ass because I really don’t care. Then I hung up upon understanding that he was no longer willing to send money for Tristan. Which would be a financial nightmare for me at this delicate point in time.

Eh. He was due for another tantrum. I just didn’t think he’d get over it so fast. This morning I had a message from him, sounding  as if everything is just hunky-dory, telling me he sent me money. It’s funny because I can pay my bills at the same place where I pick up the money, so the lady handed me the money and I handed it all right back to her so I could pay the utilities. Sad to see it go so fast, but what a relief…

I’m so emotional lately. I look at Tristan and I feel like I could just melt into a puddle. I would do ANYTHING for that boy.  I will do anything, but as I’ve learned it’s best not to talk about what you plan to do. It’ll just take time.

I knew from the beginning (back when I first peed on a stick and it screamed “You’re pregnant!”) that I wanted more than one child. After I had Tristan I became even more sure of this. I grew up surrounded by sisters and I can’t imagine how desolate my difficult childhood would have been without them, even if we did drive each other bonkers and beat each other up all the time. I don’t want Tristan to be an only child. Two kids, that’s just right. Not so many that I feel like I work at a day-care center, but enough that we’re a cozy little family.

How does my family feel about me becoming a mother again? Well, that depends on who you ask. There are those who can’t wrap their tiny, traditional minds around the fact that a single mother would actually want to have another baby and *GASP* *CHOKE* *DOUBLE TAKE* still remain single.

Holy heart failure, Batman!

Yep, as if he hasn’t been enough of an ass lately, I’m referring to my father. Is he worried that I won’t be a good parent, that I can’t handle two children? Yeah, because he sure did a bang up job parenting us kids. FINE, I’ll play nice. Starting… NOW.

The legitimate concern that my family will have is my financial situation. But hey, if my dad had kept his promise then that wouldn’t be such an issue… And you know what? If I have any material success in my life it will be because of my children, not in spite of them. Look at my sister Vanessa. She had three kids and then got herself through college and now has a job as a teacher. Don’t they think I can do the same? I’m smart, I’m stubborn (hey, someone’s gotta pep talk me). And if anyone in this family is strong enough to be alone and yet happily raise two children that would be me.

I have faith in myself. I hope my family will too. I know I can count on my friends, at least…

I’m ecstatic. I knew I was pregnant right away, but being a jumpy and impatient little thing I tested too soon and got a negative result. At wich point I sulked and sighed and contemplated writing bad poetry. Then when I missed my first period, ok you got me, slightly before I missed my period I tested again. OH, those double pink lines! When I found out I was pregnant with Tristan I actually cried. Out of fear. Not this time. I almost wept with JOY. I have no doubts and not the slightest hesitation.

I’m just crossing my fingers and praying to my lucky stars that the baby is ok and I’ll carry to term. Yeah, ok, and I’m worrying myself sick.

But that’s normal.

EDIT: This post is aimed specifically at those in my family who I feel have let me down and not at the wonderful family who have been so concerned and helpful to me in the past.

This is going to be a fun post to write. It’s been a while since I cut loose and ranted, but I’m feeling hormonal and I’m just going to go with it. Why swim against the tide?

Some background: When Kostya and I lived together in Arkansas and he abandoned me I was left with a crapload of bills (among other expenses) and ended up maxing out my only credit card. I’ve been trying to pay it down for a while now, but shit happens. Seriously, I’m like a freakin’ shit magnet. So I was late on a payment, ONE FREAKING time, and those blood-sucking bastards jacked my interest rate up so high it made me dizzy.

Anyway, so I moved to Arkansas where the going is cheaper, and so I could be near my family, and before I left I put all my earthly possessions (except for two suitcases full of clothes for me and Tristan) into a storage unit in Brooklyn. Well, actually, I put my stuff into storage before I decided to move to Arkansas because Kostya’s snake of a mother kicked me and Tristan out on our asses, but that’s another story. Point is, every month I’m paying over TWO HUNDRED dollars for this storage unit in Brooklyn. On top of the two hundred I drop down into the abyss that is my credit card bill. As long as I’m paying for storage I can’t afford to pay more on my credit card bill, and I’m also unable to save money to move my stuff to Arkansas.

So, financially I’m in quite a pickle.

Then my Dad found out he would be getting some money from a settlement and he promised to move my stuff to Arkansas for me. I was ecstatic! I’d have an extra 200+ dollars to pay down my credit card bill and once that’s taken care of I’d have 400 dollars a month to spend on things I need. Hell, I could start saving for a rainy day (and God knows there are plenty of those)!

Jump forward to a couple weeks ago, when my father got his settlement. Apparently it was much less than he expected. You can see where this is going. My dad told me he couldn’t move my stuff out here for me because he needs all the money to buy a house in town (he’s selling the old one). I was really disappointed but didn’t let myself get too worked up because I know he was upset about getting so much less than he had anticpated. So he needs to save it to get a house, I can respect that. Then he starts blowing money on stupid shit, like a digital drum set. And he had the nerve to tell me he’s looking for a flat screen TV while we were in a store looking for a cheap fridge for me (which I ended up not getting because even “cheap” is too expensive for me right now).

Now I’m angry. Not at him, but at myself. I feel stupid for having had faith that someone would help me out of my own little mess. It hurts that he broke his promise, but this is just his nature. He’s selfish and can’t control himself when it comes to money. I even told him that I would pay him back every penny, as much as I pay the storage place each month, because it makes more sense for me to pay 200+ dollars a month to my father and have all my belongings with me than to keep dropping that money into storage and NOT have all my things.

Someone close to me suggested that I just give up everything I have in storage so I don’t have to pay anymore. Don’t fucking tell me that. Ever. Besides the fact that I have valuable things in there, including an 8,000 dollar violin, I think it’s just wrong that I should have to do that. Have you ever had the unfortunate experience of losing EVERYTHING YOU OWN? It’s fucking heart-breaking and so deeply disturbing that I don’t even want to think about it. There’s no reason for me to have to do that. I won’t. It’s all MINE and I’m not going to give it all up just because of some unfortunate circumstances.

Tristan's aunt Victoria

So I’ll just keep floundering around because the people who CAN help me WON’T. That’s fine, I’ll just respect myself more in the end, I guess, for managing everything all on my own. But shit…

Kostya’s sister, Victoria, sent me a hundred dollars a couple of days ago. Out of the blue. Kostya must have mentioned the pile of final notices sitting on my counter and she sent me money “for Tristan”. It made me want to laugh and cry at the same time. My ex-boyfriends sister is helping me out even when my own family seems painfully oblivious to my situation.

I always liked her. No matter how ugly things got with me and her brother she never treated me poorly. She even got caught in the middle on occasion, much to my everlasting shame. I’m telling you, Russian women possess an entirely different kind of strength than American women. I wont deny that she’s a sly thing, but I really respect her for her patience and self-control. I guess she HAD to learn patience with Kostyantyn for a brother. Anyway, she’s a beautiful little doll on the outside, but a pillar of strength on the inside.

I’m getting sentimental. This goes back to the whole hormonal thing. I’ll get everything sorted out eventually. It felt good to pour all of this out…