Thursday, July 31st, 2008

Yesterday, I was regaling my aunt once again with a Punksin anecdote, and my heart suddenly yearned to be sharing it with my mother.  My mother would get such a laugh out of Punksin’s innocently hilarious comments, I know she would.  And as much as I love calling my aunt with them, not being able to share them with my mother is at best sad, on days like yesterday, heart-wrenching.

Every now and then I get called on to explain to Punksin where her grandfather and grandmother are, and quite frankly it would actually be easier if I could say they were dead.  Death, she gets now, to some extent.  But to say they’re here but not around is difficult, for me anyway, because of the implication, thankfully still unexplored, that they’re not around because they don’t want to be.  So far I’ve been able to get away with saying that my mother is sick, which is actually true.  As for her grandfather, it would be a bit much to say “He’s an asshole” and therefore I don’t say much beyond that he is very very far away, along with some mumbled words about “He’d see you if he could,” words that I know are not at all true.

This is yet another reason why I want to make some serious changes in life and move ahead and beyond what I’ve been and known for so long.  There’s no way I can escape them – I’m reminded of my father every time I gaze on Pudding’s blonde hair – but I don’t need to be limited by them and their tragic mistakes.  And 38 is perhaps a bit late to be realizing that but better late than never.  I want to be happy and I deserve to be happy, and while I know there will always be a part of me that wishes things were different, the bigger picture is that I can’t change them or the past, I can only change me and my future, change the bad habits that hold me back, and make my life and the life of my very wonderful family beautiful.  I love all of them – The Hacker, Punksin and Pudding -too much to continue being unhappy and engaging in all of the behavior that being so depressed and miserable entails.  They deserve a more centered, peaceful me.

And I deserve that version of myself.

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What I Want To Be When I Grow Up

Tuesday, July 29th, 2008

Anything – anything – where I can read and write.

I thought recently that I would like doing something where I Work With Books.

The only problem with this is, I am already “experienced”, in all the wrong places.  Meaning I am beyond entry-level status but have done nothing editorial that has not been freelance.  Meaning I’d have to start from scratch as an assistant to an agent, or assistant to an editor, either of whom is sure to be young enough to be my great-grandson thrice removed.

For this, I blame myself.  I got lured into advertising and spent far too much time secretly hoping to write, all the while churning out nothing but proposals and business letters imploring some ass or other to please please PLEASE put their nice pretty products in my nice pretty magazine!  For this I was paid well, but it’s all pointless now – I have neither the money nor the happiness that would have come with a more satisfying career.

I am doing a lot of writing these days (finally, yes, finally) and I am thrilled.  Thrilled, even, that when I go back and look at it, it doesn’t look quite so awful as my original writing did years ago. Not that I am beyond editing at all, please, I have no delusions about that.  But the first drafts are actually salvageable as opposed to good candidates for shredded kitty litter.

But here’s the rub.  I want to Do Something With Books, while I write my own, of course.   But the rub here is, I would only be considered for the entry-level stuff (if that, even, given my years in the workforce) and I need more than an entry-level salary to make going back to work not become a further strain.  I need to pay for the children to be looked after.  That means a minimum of $3000 a month.

There is not an an entry-level editorial job in the WORLD that is going to give me that much.

Sigh.

I love my kids, but I’m so tired of putting off my dreams.  I sit here day after day, and I help The Hacker to get his business organized, and of course organize the children’s lives and schedules, and nowhere have I made my own life a priority, whether it’s something as simple as getting to an exercise class or really trying to break out of this damn advertising sales mold I’ve been in (as well as the resultant long-reaching depression).

And now that I am finally trying, I feel as though it is long past the point where anything will come of it.

I love my children to pieces.  I love my husband immensely.

But right now, I hate my life.

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Punksin

Thursday, July 24th, 2008

This morning I dropped Punksin off at her camp.  We were late (thanks to an explosive output in the diaper from Pudding), so I stayed to watch her as she got right into the day’s activities.

This morning, they were starting things off in the gym, where the kids were making their way through an obstacle course.  One or two children were on the obstacle course, while the rest stood against the wall looking, as kids will often do, somewhat lost.  There was music playing, but against the backdrop of all these bland faces it sounded out of place.  I don’t think kids always have to be loud and boisterous, but their silence seemed so – odd, as if everyone was just out of sorts.

Punksin was led to the front of the line and allowed to start.  She went started crawling, looked at me, kept going.  At one point as she stood up to make her way to the next challenge I saw her shoulders heave up and down in a big sigh.  This happened a few more times, and I found myself wondering, is she bored? Is she unhappy? Is she just having a bad morning? Is she picking up on a weird mood in here?

I called her over and asked her what was wrong.  Nothing.  I asked again.  Nothing.  Gently, I looked at her.  Pointed out that she seemed so unhappy.  Reminded her that I would do anything I could to fix the problem, if only I knew what it was.

And finally, it poured out, the  story of how another little girl in camp had told her that Punksin’s affection was cloying, that Punksin was stifling her, that she liked Punksin but wanted to play with other people too.

I know my daughter.  And I know very well how she can glom onto people and suffocate them with attention. This is not the first time this sort of thing has happened – from way back at her first school, people would get tired of being forced into this one-on-one relationship with her when they wanted to play with all of their friends.

But this is my daughter, and it hurt to see her feel so rejected.  Once again, I tried explaining to her that having more than one friend is a good thing, for her and for other people, that playing with several people can be fun.  I pointed out that this little girl hadn’t said she didn’t like her, but just that she wanted to play with other people too.  And that she, Punksin, should do the same thing.  What if this girl was sick one day?  Having one friend would leave her with no one to play with, whereas having other friends would mean she always had a playmate, would play new games, learn new things.

This is a hard lesson for my little girl to absorb.  Once she likes you, she wants to be your whole world.  I can’t quite figure out how to break her out of this; I know the world will ultimately do it for her, but I don’t want her to get crushed in the process.  She’s not good at sharing attention, and believe you me, her father and I have tried to get her to understand that for her friends, for us,  for anyone, no one’s world revolves around her.  We have shown and discussed how there are other people that must be considered, spoken to, laughed with, comforted, interacted with.  She hears us, but I can see that right now, it’s not sinking in the way we’d like it to.

I know she is only 4 and that there will still be some element of “me-ness” about her.  But this thing about finding one friend and sticking to them like glue…

Wow – I just had a revelation of sorts.

Maybe she’s just seeking some stability.

Hmmm.  In all honesty, even at her first school where she was well-established and at home, so to speak, there was some stifling, but it was more a bossiness – she had several friends and would play with all of them at different times.I think here, she’s been there a week, doesn’t know anyone, and is just trying to make a connection.  Punksin doesn’t know any of the other kids, and maybe this other little girl does.  If she had other friends there, she’d be less likely to latch onto one.  She’s trying to create a lifeline for herself. And who can blame her?

I know this doesn’t explain (or excuse) her overall bossiness, but it can explain what’s happening right here right now.  I don’t think this is so much about her trying to control the girl as it is about her trying to give herself a friend, a connection.  And don’t we all want that out of life, particularly when we are thrust into new settings?

Last year she did so well at this camp that I didn’t stop to think that this year might be different: she’s older now, she’s now been in 2 schools instead of one, the camp itself feels different – a whole bunch of factors that could be adding to why she feels a little lost, a little more needy, a little less sure.

Well, tomorrow is the last day – and as such, if she hasn’t had a good day today I won’t force her to go back tomorrow.  Nor will I force her to return in 4 weeks if she doesn’t want to.  I think, in fact, it might be better for her to stay home or stay in the other camp she’ll be in at her old school.  Because the next session of this camp will mean all new people all over again, and I think she’s had enough being tossed about for now.

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