Today, I am drained

I didn’t sleep last night.

Not one little bit.

Every time I would drift off I would startle myself awake, much like a newborn who hasn’t lost their startle reflex yet, one of the reasons why people used to put their babies to sleep on their stomachs before scientists realized that this caused them to die of SIDS.  I don’t think that is why babies die of SIDS, but what do I know?  Babies have a startle reflex to  protect them.  It’s left over from pre-evolutionary times when babies hung on their mothers, much like monkey babies do.  The startle reflex causes them to “hang-on” to their mothers so they don’t fall off.   And the reflex remains, un-needed, much like a gall bladder or an appendix is no longer needed.

My startle reflex came from being stressed and very, very anxious.  And not feeling safe.  The times that I was able to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time, I had dreams I was fighting someone.  Not arguing-fighting, fighting-fighting; like punching-hitting-scratching-slapping-defending myself fighting.  It wasn’t a safe feeling.  It felt bad.

Today, I tried to sleep some more.  After I fulfilled an obligation of taking some photos for a friend from work, I stripped down to my underwear, crawled under the covers and tried to comfort myself into sleeping.

Sleep wouldn’t come.

Every noise seemed like a warning, every movement felt threatening, the pounding of my heart felt like a drum, loud and methodical, but not soothing; more frightening than anything.

Even as I sit here in bed alone, except for the dogs outside my door I have nothing but that heavy, hard feeling of someone pushing on my chest and my gut.  Draining me.  When I am without sleep, I feel nauseous.  I feel cold.  I am feeling so nauseous .  My arms feel so exhausted, typing this feels like strained effort.  I can’t take a deep breath.  I don’t know how this happened.

In one hour I will go to work.

I will put on a happy face and do my job that I hate, but I have NO idea how I will do it.

Last night I went to work, and somehow during those five hours my life got turned upside down in a weird and bizarre way that doesn’t make any sense.  I can’t wrap my head around it, and it’s just. fucked. up.

The issue is not huge, just strange.

It seems that something in our home was put in a strange place and no one, not me, not HG, not the girls, not our neighbor, not our recent house guest has any idea how it got there.  And because  of this, I feel like I’m going crazy.  Crazy, wondering how it happened, and crazier because I’m being blamed and I didn’t do anything.  All I did was go to work.

Am I losing my mind?

Sometimes the girls will lose or mis-place something, often blaming one of their sisters for doing it.  “She lost my whatever,” they will scream to me, only to find later that they had it all along.

I keep waiting for that to happen.

Please, let that happen.

Before I make myself crazy.

Crazy-er.

Today I am a teacher

I woke from my sleep that did not feel like sleep, it was more like a half-sleep filled with weird dreams that I couldn’t move.  It was probably from going to bed mad.  I was irritated and belligerent and went to sleep that way, I should know better.

I got up and my wife made me coffee while I prepared for my new mission of the rest of the summer–Summer Home School.  Yesterday I bought the girls Summer Bridge Workbooks and told them that we would be doing the workbooks every morning that I don’t have to work at 9:30.  They were thrilled beyond excitement tolerant of the idea and actually were ready and willing to do it this morning.

So today I was a  teacher.

I mentioned here before that I have been worried about DD#2 for a long time and her ability to learn and process information.  All last school year she was being evaluated by the school reading specialist and getting special reading assistance from an aide.  Every conference that XH and I had with the specialist, and with the teachers assured us that she was making progress and doing well.  The only N (needs improvement) on her report card was in spelling, everything else was good, or at least acceptable.

So why is it today when we were doing Summer Home School that she doesn’t know what 3×7 is?  Or 8×4?  Or how many times does 4 go in to 36?  Sure, when she sits and thinks about it she can figure it out, sometimes needing to write each equation out and count up to see what the number is, but after two solid years of learning multiplication tables, I would think that 3×7 would be something she would grasp.

Again, I am back in a place of wondering if I am failing my child.

I have been assured and re-assured that she is fine.  I have trusted that the “experts” know what they are talking about, but my child is entering the fifth grade and doesn’t know what 3×7 is off the top of her head.  Do they really know what they’re talking about?  I’m starting to wonder.

During our time today, she would get frustrated and slap herself in the face.  I told her not to do it, that it was dis-respectful to herself and not okay.  Her task was to look things up in the phone book, a friends name, her favorite restaurant, her school.  I know it was hard for her and I didn’t make her finish it because I could tell she was getting very frustrated.

I was getting frustrated.

There’s a reason I didn’t become a teacher, it’s frustrating.

I know that I need to look into my options, and I know those options are expensive.  XH won’t help out with it, he’s already expressed his opinion, he thinks she’s lazy and doesn’t want her labeled with a “learning disability” that she can use as a crutch for the rest of her life.

So that leave me to figure this out, and like so many things I’m dealing with right now, (trying to find a lawyer to tell me if I have a legal malpractice case, trying to find a lawyer to fix the mistake my stupid lawyer made, trying to figure out how to pay for both of them,) this is daunting.

It’s such a feeling of helplessness to be in such a needy position, and not get the help that you need.  Really sucks.

I have called the Bar Association for referrals, and each of them said they couldn’t help me, that I needed a different kind of lawyer.  So I call back the Bar and they give me yet another name of another lawyer, IN THE SAME FIRM.  The same firm that told me that they couldn’t help me.

I’ve left messages for lawyers.

They don’t call me back.

I

AM

RAMBLING.

And I have digressed.

So today I am a teacher, and it seems that I am a teacher who must do some research to help one of her students.

So I’m off to research.

I guess I’ll put off my studying law for awhile to study learning disabilities.

Don’t it turn my brown thumb green

That is a picture of one of my new Pink Princess Escallonia’s that HG and I purchased from Garden World yesterday.

Finally my back yard looks like something other than the barren wasteland that it once was.

We also planted, (and when I say “we” I mean, HG,)

and our new “Yard Art” wheelbarrow,

One of my friends said it was white-trash.  What the hell does she know?  Tomorrow I will be shopping for a pink flamingo to go in it, won’t that look swell?

So my gardening adventure is in full swing, but don’t tell HG.  I told her that after the shrubs, I would be happy and not plant anything else…

Things I have learned

1. Summer goes by incredibly fast until about August and then it slows down until school starts.   The summer seems to be flying by and I can hardly believe that we will be leaving for our big Grand Canyon camping trip in less than two weeks–and me without my master packing list created.
2. It’s really cool when your mother wants to take your kids overnight in the summer.
3. Every couple should go to counseling PRIOR to deciding to get married, especially if there are several children involved.  (This is not cryptic, I am not indicating that HG and I have a problem, it’s just an observation, see title of blog post…)
4. Finding a lawyer sucks and I hate it.
5. My present lawyer sucks, and I hate her.  And she hates me as indicated by what a huge mess she has made out of something very simple.
6. Never hire a lawyer out of the Gay and Lesbian Yellow pages.  Ditto for contractors. Carpet cleaners are okay.
7. Gay men with names that sound like vacation destinations are also not the best choices in lawyers, (see #6.)
8. Perhaps I should consider a career in law?  It doesn’t seem that hard to completely fuck with someones life and then completely get away with it because nothing can be done about it.
9. My readers are cool, especially ones that help me with #4.
10. Naked karaoke is really, really, really fun. (See #2)

Dates and Gardening, Hoes, Piano’s, and Clothes

HG and I had a lovely evening, dining at a new restaurant that we had never been to, a very good meal, nice wine, hazelnut chocolate mousse, espresso martini, divine.  Followed with a movie, some cocktails with friends and ending when I sang show tunes to HG on the karaoke machine.  Fun times.

And we still have one more day together.

We realized last night that we hadn’t had an evening alone together in three weeks.  That is far too long for any couple to go to not share some quality time together.  We are making up for it, even if today may be filled with the daunting tasks of more yard work.

There was very little landscaping done to our house when we moved in, nothing in the backyard but grass, not even a shrub, and not much in the front.  What was in the front was not a good choice, as hydrangeas lose their foliage in the winter and that is not a good sight in Oregon.  So they were moved to a nice spot in the back and replaced by some azalea (which are dying) and a Rhody, (which is dying.)  I also threw in some pretty orange lily type flowers and a Tequila Sunrise plant, based entirely on it’s name.  It goes well with my pots in the front, but still leaves a LOT to be desired.

Gardening is not my thing.

I’m really not good at it and it just discourages me that everything I seem to try to do, fails.

Our soil in the back yard is like cement and we have our dog issue.

Abby and Ginger like to dig up the sprinkler heads.  It’s not cool and now three of them are  without heads, which makes our sprinkler system not usable until we figure out how to fix the damn things.  In addition, they run on the side of the yard and it is not possible to put bark dust down because they will track it through the house.

Did I mention I’m not good at gardening?

But I’m giving it an honest effort, and today we are back at it.

Working in the cement yard.

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This morning DD#1 had her piano recital.  She’s so super cute and getting so grown up.  I ran into a lady I was once acquainted closely with.  I haven’t seen her in a long while and I was forced to endure the usual questions:

“So how are you?”

“Are you still living in town?”

“So what’s been going on?”

“Are you still a doula?”

“What are you doing for work now?”

All along she is looking at the glistening diamonds on the ring finger of my left hand, dying to know who gave it to me.  Oh, that would be my lesbian lover, the one I married, but you and no one else gives any importance to, and you’re so fucking uptight, you won’t even ask me.

And why are you asking me these questions?

I know you’re not interested in my life, so why are you pretending?  I’m not asking you that shit.  Why am I not asking?

Because I know exactly what you’re doing, you’re doing exactly the same thing as every other mother in the scary suburbs, hiding your complete unhappiness and misery behind the guise of being mother of the year, while living vicariously through your children, keeping them and yourself as busy as possible so that you don’t have any time to look at how empty your life is.  And frankly I don’t care.  I don’t care about the four dance and three music recitals you’ve had to go to.  I don’t care about your kid’s private school and I don’t care about your hobbies.  I don’t need to know about any of it, but what I do know is that you have been wearing those same black jeans for I don’t know how many years, and your watch with the embroidered band?  Not cool, and maybe it’s time for another haircut other than the “Mom” haircut.  What do you think?

But anyway, my kid played the piano nicely.

~~~~~~~~~~

And one final thing.

From Wiki’s definition of Joint Custody:  “In joint physical custody, which is also known as joint physical care, actual lodging and care of the child is shared according to a court-ordered custody schedule.”  

Care, would include clothing.

No I will not have my children take clothes back and forth between homes.  Not happening.  No way.

Go shopping.

~~~~~~~~~~

That is all.

Peaceful quiet

What is that I hear?

Oh.

I hear nothing but the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen and the ticking of the clock behind me. The clock that has a broken hour hand so it is perpetual 6 something o’clock but I can’t bear to part with it. The clock that hangs there, always telling us the wrong time, but for some reason we still glance over our shoulders and check it when we are wondering what the time is. Why, it’s 6 something o’clock like it always is when we check it.

HG and I have been traveling or had house guests continuously since May 24th. Cory and the boys arrived, we went to Vegas, then we went camping, then HG’s BFF arrived, then she left, and that day Cory and the boys came back. DD#1 hasn’t had her room in weeks, and it’s just been crazy busy, crazy hectic, and crazy stressful. All total, we had guests for 22 days, and although I cherished and loved the time with Cory and the boys and I know that HG enjoyed having her BFF here, it was a lot.

So now it is time for some peace.

And quiet.

And time for HG and I to find our way back to each other, where we were when we came home from our Vegas trip, completely connected and together, with nothing between us and no one else around to distract us from each other. We have two days of just us.

Two days of peaceful quiet, wrapped up in just our time, our wishes, our desires. No one else to feed, no one else to entertain, no one else’s whims to consider but our own. On Sunday, we will return to parenting and house and job duties, but I won’t think about that today.  I’ll think about that then, and until then; I will be thinking about how much I love my wife, and how much she means to me, and how good it is that we are together.

And that idea.

Brings me great joy.

What’s new this week?

We got a baby and a baby rose bush.

Okay, so we can’t exactly keep the baby, but we do get to play with him and hold him and kiss him, (when he’s not crying for his Momma’s boobie…)

That’s baby Benny and he belongs to my sweet friend Corina who is visiting us from very far south in Mexico. Benny’s sweet brother is Killian and he is a very cute, very funny little boy,

Needless to say, the girls are in heaven!

I tried to do a little photo shoot of the boys, I got some cute shots and I especially love this one,

That one for sure goes on the mantle!

Cory has been very helpful with the girls, as she always is, and has taken them shopping and out to the museum which has made the first week of summer vacation a bit easier to ease in to.  I met Cory in 1997 when DD#1 was three and DD#2 was four months old.  Cory was attending the NW Nanny Institute, 18 years old and away from home for the first time.  I was part of the schools Practicum program, which meant that I was a family that the school would use for their students to practice on.  Cory was my first (and by far, the best) student and we have remained close through the years.  She even lived with us for awhile before she headed out on a trip that would change her life, eventually relocating her to Zihuatanejo, meeting her partner and the two of them having a family.  She only makes it back to the states once a year or so, and I cherish seeing her and the babies.  She is like a younger sister to me, and her boys are probably the closest I’ll have to nephews for a long time!

HG and I were able to do some things together, like go to lunch, do errands, buy plants and visit an awesome Heirloom Rose Garden that LeLo told me about to buy my very first baby rose bush.  Well, actually I bought two and I’m super excited for them to grow.  We’ve done so much work on the inside of the house, painting and decorating things, I really wanted to focus some energy on the outside this summer, making it pretty as well.

Cory and the boys go to the airport tomorrow morning and I’ll be so sad for them to go.  It’s been an absolute joy having them here: the smiles, the baby giggles, the funny “Spanglish” that Killian speaks.  Even the crying, the mess, and the baby toys everywhere-I’ll take those things in a house guest any day!

And so that ends, summer vacation, Week One.

Keep Portland Queer!

And Happy Pride 2007!

There will be pictures.  And to the person who asked me a long time ago about the pride necklace I bought last year at the festival, I will be on the lookout and pick a few up if you are interested.  Just drop me a line so I know where to send it!

And go check out Wink’s Pride outfit over at LeLo’s.

*What’s in a name?

What do our names mean to us? It the simplest explanation our names give us identitiy. Our names are given to us by our parents and then we decide later if it’s a name we want to keep or change it to someone else’s.I’ve been married twice to men. The first time I took my husbands name because I thought it was the proper thing to do, but I didn’t feel comfortable doing so. Needless to say, it didn’t quite matter because we were only married for a year or so and I quickly changed my name back to my maiden name after our divorce.

Then I married again, and this time there was a baby on the way. I knew (why, I don’t know,) that I would give the baby her father’s surname, so it only made sense that I would change my name as well. So I did, and that has been my identity since 1994. When XH and I divorced, he asked if I was going to keep “his” name. “It’s MY name now too,” I replied, “and my children’s name.” Yes, I was going to keep it.

That brings us to now.

I have no desire to revert back to my maiden name. I never liked it, it was hard to pronounce, and hard to spell. But at the same time, I don’t necessarily want to continue using my XH’s last name, for that name identifies me not only to my children, but to someone that I’m no longer married to.

Why do women take the surname of their husbands? Because traditionally a woman “belonged” to her father and had his name. When she married, she then “belonged” to her husband and was identified with his last name to show ownership. I don’t belong to my XH anymore, and although I enjoy the convenience of having one surname for myself and my children, I have called into question what this does to me, my self-esteem and who and what I call myself.

HG once had a husband, and she changed her last name to his for many of the same reasons that I did, (hard to pronounce, hard to spell, etc.) and although she hasn’t been married for about twenty years, she kept that name all of this time. It’s been her identity and it’s how people know her.  So here we are together as a couple with names that identify us with the partners of our past.  It’s quite distressing in a logical kind of way and somewhat yucky in an emotional way.

Some things that I have been doing lately in my personal and professional life have caused me to call into question my identity and how I want people to know me. There are so many things about my old life that I have left behind and I continue to shed layers of my former life little by little, changing into the new person that I am today, still identfied in a lot of the same ways, but with new meaning, new understanding in who I am.

So I did something brave.

I published something under a new name that is all my own and one that HG and I use sometimes together as a couple. I’m allowed to do this, I read the info from the state of Oregon, (because you know, I study law these days!)

My first published piece under a name that is all my own, not my father’s, not either of my husbands, not anyone’s but mine (and whoever shares it…)

and it makes me proud.

Oh, and I’m proud of the piece as well!

*This blog post contains a wee bit of shameless self-promotion…

You shouldn’t be so stressed RSG

I spoke to my mother today who asked me how things were going and quickly pointed out to me that I was always too stressed and should really do something about not being so stressed anymore.

Lord Almighty Hallelujah, why the hell didn’t I think of that sooner? Can you imagine the money that I would have saved on anti-depressants, anti-anxiety medication, booze, chicks, heroine, chocolate and shopping?

Thank God she told me.

So I hung up the phone, had a shot of tequila, smoked twelve cigarettes and popped a couple of Xanex.

I’m feeling much better now.

Seriously Internet, I must say that I have had to deal with the world biggest helping of bullshit lately and I am just about over it. Some of you may recall that last summer I was served with paperwork by my XH requesting a modification of spousal and child support from our original decree. I will not get into the long, drawn out ridiculous issues surrounding it, (that’s what archives are for,) but I will say that the matter was settled in court on September 11, 2006. Or so I thought.

It appears that the attorney that I hired. Well, she basically sucks and is completely incompetent. I found her ad in the Gay and Lesbian Yellow pages, she had a kind face, a full page ad and when I met with her seemed genuinely nice and like someone I would like to have help me out. I gave her BUNCHES of money, we went to court, I walked away with some of what I had left from our originally agreement and I thought the matter was finished.

To make a LONG and very painful story as short as possible (if I’m capable of doing that,) I have been attempting since October 2, 2006 to clarify mistakes that were made in the draft and final copies of the paperwork that was filed and signed by the judge. I have sent her ELEVEN letters outlining the discrepancies and every time she has ignored me, or told me she would look into it. Finally the day we came home from Las Vegas she called me and LIED TO MY EAR about said discrepancies. I did the right thing, I contacted The Bar and asked for help mediating the dispute. She then LIED to The Bar and manufactored a completely different version of the issues, completely ignoring the facts stated in the ELEVEN letters that I had sent stating the opposite.

Today I spent nearly three hours putting together my formal ethics complaint with the Oregon State Bar. With every letter, e-mail, and phone call that I needed to document I became increasingly upset and (stressed) that I was ever put in this situation in the first place. It is completely and utterly unfathomable to me that someone who I hired to help me took it upon herself to completely FUCK ME OVER, and not in a good way. I just called the lawyer at The Bar, and she said my complaint is processing. I also contacted the powers in charge of my filing a Malpractice suit against her incompetent lying ass. That should be another completely non-stressful endeavor, I am certain.

All of that combined with the last week of school events, work, kids, deadlines, DD#1 losing her cell phone somewhere yesterday at the Science Museum at he restaurant, or somewhere in between and out-of-town company has reduced me to a cranky-ass-bitch consumed with every fucking detail of these issues playing and re-playing in my head like a very bad video on constant rewind and play.

But on the bright side.

It’s a lovely, lovely Oregon day today that luckily HG and her BFF are out enjoying having a beer and playing cards somewhere where there are no screaming/arguing/complaining children, no worries of dinner or schedules or teacher gifts or un-made beds or phone calls from the Professional Liability Fund.

And I’m here blogging. Trying not to be stressed.

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Thank God for blogging, but I think it’s time for more tequila.