Outlets for Rage

As I may have mentioned here, BigBro feels things very deeply or with great strength. He is passionate about things he loves. His compassion and empathy can be his undoing. His capacity to love has always amazed me.

When things lean to the negative side, it is with equal power. His play therapist is really helping him with this. But he still has those moments when he has such overwhelmingly strong emotions, he doesn't know what to do with them.

Around Christmas, he had a pretty big meltdown. He is still processing his feelings about our divorce. He is extremely smart and tries to process everything. However, without full knowledge of exactly how our divorce came about, he is very confused and angry.

As he sat there trying to explain his anger, I noticed his clenched fists at his side. He was yelling to me about how he hates the divorce and doesn't even know who to blame (ie - me or dad). I could see the wound tension in him. And it brought me right back to being that little kid that was trying to deal with something completely out of my control. Something that I hated (usually a punishment or explanation of why I couldn't have/do something). I knew there was nothing I could do to change it. But my rage was overwhelming. My memories of these times bring back visions of pure white rage taking over my sight. I remember wanting to break or hit something. I didn't want to HURT anyone. Or break anything important. I just needed to punch something or feel something break.

As I sat listening to BigBro venting and hurting, it killed me. I totally recognized the bottled rage. I asked him, "You probably feel like hitting something, don't you?" He threw his face to the ceiling and screamed "YEEEEESSSSSS!" Ugh. Man do I get it.

We did a lot of talking. I did a lot of listening. I related some of my memories from my own frustrations as a kid. I wanted to let him know that I understood what he was feeling and he wasn't insane to feel it. We also prayed. A lot!

I wasn't able to get him to his play therapist for another 3 weeks. And it helped. But I can see the underlying anger and confusion always threatening to undo him in those moments of frustration.

I talked to my mom about a punching bag. In high school, when I was still dealing with becoming part of a blended family and full of rage and anger, a friend showed me how to use one of those smaller wall-mounted punching bags that you always see boxers hitting. Bippity bappity bippity bappity. I got pretty good. When I needed to, I just whaled on that thing. My mom and I thought it would be good for both boys to have something to pound on.

But I wanted to check with their therapist. I know there can be a fine line between allowing for a physical outlet and encouraging violence as a solution to frustration. I sent the therapist an email explaining what I had seen, my own experience of wanting to hit things, and our thoughts about a punching bag. He wrote back, "I think [BigBro] has enough cognitive wherewithal to use that as a coping skill in the moment without any carryover consequences. A lot of parents use martial arts classes for the same purpose. Sounds like a good idea."

As I've stated in multiple posts, my parents ROCK. As soon as I shared that email with my mom, she and dad went to the local ginormous sporting goods store. They talked to a sales guy, explaining what and who it was for. He suggested a 70 lb hanging heavy bag. He also warned about their developing bones and not to let them punch it with their bare hands.

This past weekend, mom & dad came and assembled the stand in my garage. Then my awesome neighbor Alex came over and hoisted the bag up so we could hang it on the hook.

The next day, mom took both boys to the afore mentioned sporting goods store and got them each a pair of boxing gloves in their size. Then she brought them home, got them on the computer and showed them a YouTube boxing tutorial video she had researched. BigBro watched the whole thing. Lil'Bro hopped around posing in his new gloves and didn't watch.

When the boys were ready to try out the new heavy bag, BigBro walked up and punched it exactly like the tutorial showed. He got his feet in the right position, shoulder down, jab jab PUNCH! It was pretty cool. Lil'Bro walked up and started flailing at it. So I slowed him down, had him step back and reminded him of his kung fu lessons. He paused and then huh huh PUNCH! Great form!

BigBro testing out some boxing moves:
Lil'Bro (with helmet!) trying out some kung fu moves:

So both boys are enjoying the heavy bag. And I have to admit, I took off my antique ring to have a few hits. My Ex asked if I've put any pictures on there yet to motivate me. Ha! I just may. I just may.

I feel like BigBro will have some options for anger outlets. He knows the main reason my parents got the bag is for his benefit. But I think our whole little family will benefit.

A Break in the Keck

Lil'Bro has the tummy bug that's going around. I probably do, too. But either it hasn't hit me fully or I'm tolerating it better.

So while Lil'Bro watches Scooby Doo on the couch with his bucket, I'll drop a note here.

BigBro is doing well. He's having anger issues. He has a lot of deep seeded anger toward his dad for leaving him for 3 years. The Ex has expected this. But it's still hard when it finally rears its head.

BigBro doesn't fully understand it. We're trying to get him to his therapist but money is very tight and a good therapist can be expensive. Ours is awesome. And he's reasonably priced for his skill but it's a stretch at the moment. Man I hate that.

Anyway, BigBro is overreacting to small things that make him angry. It's another volcano with a very thin cap.

I will retire to the couch with Lil'Bro now.

Drilling a Relief Well

Since my last post, BigBro has had one more ginormous volcanic eruption. Again, it was a minor upset at a friend's house. This time, I had the sense to stay at the play date for just such an occasion.

Lack of sleep + life-event stress do not a good thing make. Good grief. I'm typing like Yoda.

Listening to him after this breakdown...or during it, I guess...I heard so many things that broke my heart:

• When will this STOP?!
• I don't want to FEEL this way!!!!
• This happens every DAY!!
• This will never end.
• I'm so confused!
• I don't even know who I AM!
• I don't even know what I'm feeling!!!
  

After he had blown off some steam in his room, we had a talk. He shamefully confessed that he had twisted some of his very special stuffed animals. "I wanted to hurt them!" he tearfully blurted out. It was then I wished I could hand him a big ol' bat and a hanging punching bag.

I told him it's totally ok to be mad at dad or me. It's totally ok to feel confused about wanting dad to stay while wanting him to be able to go back to his beloved Boston. It's ok to scream and want to punch things. I can sense the guilt and shame in him - thinking that all of these outbursts and negative feelings are somehow him being "bad".

I did NOT have the answers and I told him so. But God does have the answers and I reminded him of that. His faith is huge. And I'm thanking God for growing it so huge because it's what will get him through this.

When I dropped him off at school yesterday, he was down. Not pouty or over dramatic. He was probably depressed. He was low energy. He was giving people brave fake smiles. But it wasn't him. Sadness just dripped off of him.

From our conversations, I knew he thought he had reverted. He knows how awesome he's been doing with no tics, no rage and no anxiety. And all of a sudden, bam! they're both back in spades. So add to all the guilt, fear, hurt and anger the thought that suddenly Tourette's is back and taking over.

Yesterday, I called his therapist and said he needed to get in there because he was having an emotional crisis. They got him in first thing this morning.

Our play therapist, Dr.M, is awesome. He loves both boys so much. But he has that special appreciation for BigBro. Today, BigBro saw Dr.M for an hour. Toward the end, I joined them and they showed me (some of) what they had discussed.

Dr.M firstly explained that all of these crazy conflicting emotions are very hard to wrestle. And that EVERYone wrestles with them in their life. Even grown ups. So A) you're not alone.

He then explained that everyone has needs in their lives. I saw a piece of paper that had a bunch listed - obviously, they had made the list together. I saw things like "security", "attention"...I couldn't read all of it. Dr.M explained to BigBro that all of these needs, if not met, will pull on you like gravity. Except they pull your heart (ie emotions). So when a big life event comes along and these needs become greater, the heart can sometimes be over run by things like fear, anger, hurt, and guilt. I saw those written on that same pad.

It was explained better than that but that's what's in my head.

So Dr.M asked BigBro to show me how he had modeled what his emotions might look like in the sand table. Ok...wow. Firstly, I wouldn't even know how to go about modeling that. But here's what he did (and I wish I had photographed it):

One third of the sand table was fenced off and had a volcano, ambulance and eagle figure. The other two thirds had some bright shining marbles & stones, some little toy street signs (like yield, stop, arrows, etc.), a colorful moth figure and a bat figure. It also had a big wooden elephant near the fence.

The side with the elephant represented the side that held his friends (moth & bat), fun (shining marbles & stones), and direction (signs). The elephant represented a big event that happened. It was so big, it pushed him out of the fun side and into the volcano side.

The volcano side represented his isolation. He felt alone even with people around. The volcano represented his anger. The ambulance could get to him but wasn't able to stay long (he showed it sliding down the sand away from his eagle self).

I pointed to a Grinch figure on the fun side that was facing the volcano side. He said that represents how he feels like there is something watching him, always ready to mess him up. He felt like it was his guilt and other emotions that would get him when he least expected it.

It was amazing.

I told him I found it very interesting that his two friends had wings. Because his two best friends are very awesome and true friends. It made me think that their wings would allow them to fly up over this huge elephant and get to him. He looked at them for a minute and went, "Ohhh..." then picked the moth & bat up and flew them over to his eagle self. He liked that. I also pointed out that HE had wings. He liked that, too.

Dr.M drilled a relief well for my little volcano today. It's a good start, as he said. But putting words and labels on those needs and emotions was key, I think. BigBro seemed light when we left. Like, he knew what it all was now. He had identified it and named it. It's a known quantity. Takes the edge off that fear and anxiety.

When I dropped him off at school, he greeted the teachers with his usual bright, "Hi!"

I know we're not done yet. But that relief well is doing its job. It's relieving the pressure and letting God do the rest.

Keep those prayers coming.

Sand Table Therapy and Some Old Pix

Sand Table Therapy
Today Pokemon Boy went to his play therapist's. He's been asking to go since future ex moved back to Boston. Today we got him there. ML has a new toy in the arsenal. A sand table. Toward the end of his session, I got to play in the sand table.

I was called in and was told that Pokemon Boy had played out a scene where an ambulance was rushing to help someone. But that ambulance needed an ambulance. The conversation had turned to me being Pokemon Boy's ambulance. And then wondering who might be MY ambulance. Pokemon Boy told ML he figured he and his little brother were my ambulance. So I was brought in to play out that scenario. I was sitting there looking at ML like...um...where do you want me to go with this???? But I figured he just wanted me to show what I do for survival. So Pokemon Boy handed me my figurine (a svelte little blond doll in a white bride's dress....uh huh...). So Pokemon Boy's figure fell and hurt his foot. My tiny waisted alter ego rushed over to see if it was ok and dole out kisses. Then it was my turn. Pokemon Boy asked me what makes me sad. Loaded question. But rather than answer in a way that would require more in depth counseling for my kid (hahaha), I said, "Well, sometimes work is hard." So dainty bride doll moped around saying how hard work is. Dainty bride doll stopped and prayed asking God to give her motivation and help in focusing on work (which dainty bride doll actually did yesterday). Then ML handed dainty bride doll a dainty wee bible. So dainty bride doll informed the room that, once the kids are in bed, she likes to read the bible.

It was fun. I want a sand table. But I hate vacuuming. But I love sand. Quandary.

What I gleaned from our exercise was that Pokemon Boy needs to understand that saving mommy is not on his shoulders. And also to show that you can take any problem to God. But I think it was more to show him it's not up to him to save his dainty doll-like mother. Or maybe it really taught him that his mom needs to lose weight and get a wedding dress. I'm not sure what he got from it. But he seemed to enjoy it.

I was reading an old post where I mentioned that ML wanted to train me to do some at home therapy with Pokemon Boy. That hasn't happened. I just have not had the gumption yet. Sounds weak. But I'd rather admit my current limits and not fail at something this important. But I work with ML on Pokemon Boy's therapy. Later this week, I will talk to ML about how/if we should start Lil' Bro in any kind of counseling. He begs to see ML. But he really just wants to play with toys. I think Pokemon Boy can discuss the play with ML enough to be productive. I have visions of Lil' Bro running around with all the toy swords and guns totally ignoring any conversation from ML. But we'll see what he suggests.

Some Old Pix
These are two pix I just pulled out of an old envelope. These are my parents. The ones who adopted me. I think both of these pictures were from when they were in high school. So maybe 1950? Not sure. I'll have to ask mom. But I love these pictures. Dad was all ears. Mom's picture says, "To a very wonderful boy" on it. I love it.

Sam Dad


Rose Mom

Counseling and Keck

Today's Tourette's Tidbit - Observations

Today, The Boy went to his play therapist. We love his therapist. ML rocks. He's a Christian counselor who, I believe, specializes in children's play therapy. The Boy actually gets very upset if we have to miss sessions with him.

Today, ML verified that he feels The Boy is making all sorts of progress (this was noted by his psychiatrist a couple of weeks back). His social interactions are within normal parameters - that's according to the non-scientific mom here. I mean, the few things I'm aware of are things you would see with other children who have never been diagnosed with anything more severe than a cold.

The thing I'm excited about is, ML feels I am a candidate for filial play therapy. According to aHealth.com, "Filial therapy is an alternative method for treating emotionally disturbed children in which the parent is used as an ally in the therapeutic process." ML explained that he would train me. He warned me it is exhausting and takes dedication and lots of energy. I guess it can be very difficult for the parent to learn to do play therapy because you have to detach yourself from the parental role. As the parent, you'll want to direct, analyze, question, etc. The whole point of non-directive play therapy is to allow the child to do pretty much anything in play in order to express their emotions through the objects with which they are most familiar and comfortable - toys. ML has explained enough to me so that I know that seemingly simple play actions can carry all sorts of messages, red flags, or emotions that the children don't even know they're having. It really is amazing.

ML said that he can't suggest this to every parent. A potential candidate parent must be a very present parent. This made me laugh inside because, lately, with how wrapped up I've been in my own stupid problems, I haven't felt very present for The Boy or Lil Bro. But thankfully, ML sees beyond my immediate situation and knows that I would do anything for these boys. The added benefit is, if I learn how to do this, I can also do it with Lil Bro. I haven't gotten Lil Bro into therapy because A) I've been assuming (and praying) that he doesn't need it and B) I don't have the money to put 2 boys in therapy every week. I am counting on God to minimize the risk here.

So I'm going to try to get into the next series of classes ML will offer. I love thinking I might be able to participate in The Boy's therapy. It's very hard to send them behind closed doors where you can only know little tidbits. It's a hard trust to have.

...And now on to the Keck part...

I just got a kick out of the word "keck". I was looking up synonyms for "vomit". That one caught my eye. It really describes more of a nausea or attempt at throwing up rather than actual vomiting. But what a fun word!

Just a fun little bit of my day:

Lil Bro went to day care today as normal. I heard no reports of anything odd when we picked him up. He was energetic and playful. When his father dropped him off (he was with daddy while I took The Boy to counseling), he asked for pancakes. The Boy made himself a sandwich so I mixed up some pancakes for the wee little man. As I was about to flip the 4th one, I went to the couch to ask Lil Bro if he wanted jelly on them. He informed me he didn't want them. What?! I just made them for you (slaving to pour the mix & water into a bowl and cooking four whole pancakes!!!). His answer was, "But I have a cough." Right. Note to self: If you have a cough, evidently you are not able to eat pancakes. I said, [Lil Bro], you can eat pancakes if you have a cough (in my "you silly boy" voice). At that, he decided to demonstrate. So he gives a coupe of the fakest little coughs I've ever heard - hand up to his mouth. And then it began. The Font Du Vomit. I mean, it was just SURPRISE! Puke everywhere - all over him, all over the couch! I grabbed him, ran to the small bathroom, placed him in front of the toilet and let it run its course.

Honestly, I have to tell you, I have NO idea how all that came out of him FIT in him in the first place. Have you ever seen the cherry pit vomit scene in The Witches of Eastwick? It's just what came to mind. Or any Saturday Night Live fake vomit scene I've ever seen. It just looked fake. Like a giant hose was attached to the side of his face and I just couldn't see it. It was amazing. The stuff of movies. I wouldn't have believed it had I not been standing there trying to not wretch myself. Oh the smell. Gah! The poor little guy took it like a pro. I have held the hair of much wimpier puking adults, let me tell you. He would just stand there, gasping for breath and then turn his face back to the toilet and GRAAAAUUUUUGGGGHHHHH! Then he'd stand straight and gulp a few more breaths. The poor kid had it coming out of his NOSE. Aren't you all just loving my descriptive nature right about now?

Now, as I stood there watching my puke covered toddler, thinking about the puddle soaking in to my nice micro-fiber couch, knowing I needed to strip the soaked clothes from him once he was done and get him into a bath...that whole "I really hate being a single mom" feeling crept in. Future ex had just left for a walk around our development (his hotel isn't in a good walking area). I could probably catch him and make him live up to all of those promises of "Look, if one of the kids starts throwing up in the middle of the night - I don't care what time - you call me and I'll be there." Ok superman. Put your money where the puke is. So I called his cell. No answer. A few choice swears. Run back to check on puking toddler. Tell puking toddler to stay in the bathroom even though Sponge Bob is still on the TV. Call future ex again - no answer. Run stick a note saying "I need help! Don't leave!!!" on his windshield and curse the volume on his MP3 player.

Well, I peeled the soaked clothes off Lil Bro. I got him into a bath - crying the whole time. I washed him. I dressed him. I rinsed the puke off his clothes and got them in the washer. I was just starting on the couch and then the hero shows up. Yah, thanks for the help, bud. But it was nice to have another helping hand there. He distracted Lil Bro. Comforted him. He helped me clean the couch. He went and got me food (I wasn't cooking after all of that).

So that was my night. I am thanking God for Febreze. And I am thanking him for allowing Lil Bro to hold down ice water and very watered down juice. He had been sitting on the couch, all pale, watching Sponge Bob. I was at the computer and he was talking to me and just stopped. I turned around to find him face down on the couch - sound asleep. I have prayed for a full night's sleep for all of us.

Keck. Ha ha ha! That just makes me giggle.

Ain't They Just a Laugh Riot

Interesting little men, my boys.

So today, Lil Bro went to our neighbor's. When we got there, I asked him to tell the mom what he agreed to do at the end of the day. "Pick up!" he proudly announced. Mm hmm. Sure you will. He lucked out. They didn't tear the play room apart. Mostly outdoor stuff today.

Lil Bro did announce - on quite a few occasions today - "I want to do what I want to do!" It's the most eloquent I've heard him. I don't really know where this is coming from except he's been getting healthy doses of not-being-spoiled from my mom and from this neighbor. They are both of the school of you-can-do-it-so-don't-even-try-to-sucker-me-into-doing-it-for-you. I am of that school, too. However, I see these kids every day and tend to forget that they've been growing up right in front of me and they're not helpless little babies any more. That and the fact that it's usually MUCH faster for me to just do whatever it is so we can get on with dinner, getting out the door, getting to bed, whatever it is. So I have also joined the just-do-it team. And I imagine that is where Lil Bro is getting this attitude. He doesn't WANT to do this stuff.

Ladies, if recent experience has taught me anything? It has taught me that boys (and by "boys" I mean the entire male gender) will not choose to grow up on their own. Yes, that's a hugely gross exaggeration. Unfortunately, I have way too many boys and men in my life that prove my theorem. The exceptions are too far and few between and not in my life at the moment so sue me.

So point #1 for today is: Lil Bro has an attitude. Any of you that know me are now saying, "And this surprises me why?"

Our next topic - if you'll turn to page 623 in your hymnals - is The Boy and his night time waking that seems to have recently resumed. I had a nice talk with The Boy's counselor today (I think I mentioned that he is seeing a Christian play therapist on a weekly basis - initially to deal with the whole divorce issue). Mr. Counselor-We-Love said that The Boy is doing really well (yeah). And that he's an exceptional child (yeah again). We want to get him into some kind of accelerated program when we think he's ready for the testing (probably mid-2nd grade). He said that The Boy has been rather tight lipped about the divorce thing so far. We don't think it's so much a denial thing - although it could be. But it could be more that The Boy is used to getting the majority of his emotional assurances from me. So the loss is there but not quite as severe as Lil Bro's feeling of loss (since Lil Bro was pretty much 24/7 with daddy). We are thinking that we will see more changes in his emotions on the subject as time passes and as he has more interactions with future ex. And future ex is coming to The Boy's birthday party in July. Much to the joy of THe Boy and the dismay of most everyone else down here. Oh well. It's not MY party so...

But I told Mr. Counselor-We-Love that The Boy has had a few episodes of waking up in the middle of the night - all freaked out, heart pounding, anxious, crying, not making sense. Last night, he had one of these things. He came in to my room, eyes open, talking, crying, not making sense. I got him to go to the bathroom and assumed he was awake since he responded to me saying, "Why don't you go pee," by going pee. And in the bathroom, thankfully. But when he came back out, he was crying, totally panicked, heart pounding and talking about how the blanket was way over there (gesturing to way over on the other side of my room). I got him into my bed and he kept saying that over and over. I said things like, you're ok, I'm here, [The Boy], you're not making much sense, can you explain what you mean? Things you say to someone who is awake and engaged. Well, at one point, he must have fully come awake because he suddenly calmed down a tiny bit - enough to say, "Oh sorry I'm crying mom." I assured him it was ok and asked again what he meant about the blanket. He couldn't remember. But then he said, "Can you find a kid for me?" What do you mean a kid? "A kid to come in the kid section with me." I thought for a bit and realized he meant the shallow part of the pool during YMCA camp (he can't swim). So I asked if that's what he meant. He said "Yah. Or maybe could you come? It would just be nice to have a parent there." Totally...broke...my...heart. Ugh. I would LOVE to go there. I would LOVE to have him with me all day. I would love to have him home where he wants to be. I mean, he enjoys the camp. But The Boy loves to be with family. He loves to be home. I think it will ultimately be fine. He loves being with other kids. He'll adjust. But oh man, made me want to just scream at how all of this is being done to everyone without their wanting it.

So point #2 for today is...well, that was a lot about The Boy. So my point #2 for today is the same as yesterday: The Boy rocks.

Oh and my mom went back to VA today (insert gnashing of teeth here). I had a bit of a freaky day. I mean, now it's real. I'm doing this alone - well, on the human level, I mean. Obviously God has my back. But it scares me. How will I find time to do all of this? Will the money last? Can I do this without constantly losing my cool at the boys?

Your answers are a resounding yes. I just wish you all lived in my neighborhood so I could run to your doors and hear it in person and then get an in-person dose of each of you. How fun would that be? I could get previews of Trish & Stacy's books. I could eat way too much of Beck's baking. I could talk about biking with Jen (because if I tried to keep up with her on a bike, I'd have a heart attack). Jane could show me her jewelry and I could beg her to paint some old crappy piece of furniture and she'd make it look like some amazingly expensive piece I found in the cool section of Austin. Wanda could bake me those wonderful cookies. I could sit and talk with Darlene and Angela for hours. I could polish Sarakastic's tiara collection. Kristen, Kendra, Beck, Jane and I could take our kids on little outings together or let them just run wild, screaming in the back yard.

Ok that's it. You all have to move to Austin. Get on that, will you? We'll start our little commune of incredibly wonderful women. People will travel from all over the world to join our little commune.

I'm losing my mind. I must go to bed. But get moving down/over here. Let's go!

My Boys Rock

My beautiful boys are so awesome. They are dealing with their father's leaving as well as you could hope. I know they are being covered in amazing amounts of prayer. Today was a day that made me see how it's affecting them. And it hit future ex especially hard today.

The Boy went to his weekly counseling yesterday. He meets with a Christian play therapist. I'm told he entertained with a very long story involving dinosaurs (his favorite current topic) and a snake. The counselor usually only gives me vague updates afterwards, keeping the confidentiality. But yesterday he told me that, at one point, the story took a sad turn when all the dinosaurs left one dinosaur all alone. But it had continued on and not really stayed on the sad note. But it had been there and the knowing nod the counselor used while telling me the story in an upbeat tone made me understand it was significant.

Future ex called to discuss some banking business we had to do. We had a long discussion about the boys. It ended with him crying - heart breakingly so, had he not just spent the last 4-5 months figuratively crapping all over my heart and soul. But he is missing them horribly. And it's hard not to just say stuff like, well, gee...this was your decision - what were you expecting?! So today is a hard day for future ex - missing his boys. While the part of me that is still in love with him feels horrible over this, the other part of me that has endured the most horrifying amount of pain at the hands of his selfishness just stood back and watched him (in my mind, of course). I really couldn't muster any real sympathy. Every piece of pain that anyone is feeling has been the result of him following his own selfishness. So join the club, bud. Welcome to MY life. Eat the pain. EAT IT.

Sorry. It was just hard. And I'm sick of it. It's about time he stop just having a nice little vacation with his girl thing and feel the consequences of his decision.

Future ex called later in the evening to chat w/ the boys. He had forgotten last night and was rather upset that he could have done so. I personally was torn between a "well doesn't that just figure" attitude and feeling sorry for him that he totally hit a stereotypical crappy dad thing. Anyway, he called and started out talking to Lil Bro. The one side I could hear was adorable - all cute little three-year-old speech and endearments. Then he spoke to The Boy. And The Boy was all dinosaurs and guess what we were just doing (we had been playing in sprinklers in the front yard in 80 degree weather - sorry Trish & Kristen!) and I love you and I miss you. We were getting ready to head out the door to dinner so The Boy was sitting putting on his shoes while talking on the phone. At one point, he just stopped and said, "Dad? Are you kind of...crying?" I thought, oh man. Then I heard The Boy ask, "Well why?" I can only assume future ex said something like, well, because I just miss you. But the look on The Boy's face...ugh. He is a very sensitive kid and is very affected when someone is crying. Especially a parent. This pained look crossed his face. They exchanged some endearments and goodbyes and he handed the phone to me. Future ex was a mess. Well...there it is.

So future ex is having to deal with the very real reality he has imposed on everyone. I have spent days within months curled up on my walk-in closet floor crying into towels, shirts, pillows, anything I can find. I have spent days within months crying on the floor of my room, begging God to please take the heart break away - take away the pain of jealousy. I have spent days within months feeling like I wanted to die (which would never never end in me hurting myself). I have spent days within months on the phone with various people - some of you regular readers - crying, ranting, bemoaning, hurting, crying again. I have spent SO much time hurting due to the selfish actions of this man and his unthinking psychologist girl thing. So all I can do when he breaks down like this is just stand there. Stone cold. Holding back that small small part of me that wants to speak encouraging words to lessen his pain. I have to lock her up and gag her. It's painful. Because it's not ME - the stone cold observer. She's not me. But she is now.

Whatever. I was going to talk about my boys.

After that phone call with their dad, we were in the car on our way to my favorite local burger joint (Whataburger rocks). I was at a stop sign waiting to go and Lil Bro pipes up with, "Daddy is so far away." I said, yes he is but it's great that we can call him any time we want. And we can send him pictures. Lame. But he just said it again. So I said, "You miss daddy, don't you," and he said, "Yah..." I just said, "I'm sorry you miss him, buddy." He seemed ok after that but sad.

Today future ex told me he couldn't give up his new girl thing because he couldn't break her heart and walk away. It took everything in me not to just spit through the phone. I wasn't the perfect graceful person I could have been. I'm not sure I know anyone that would have held their tongue. So I didn't. I said, "But you can break your sons' hearts and mine...and walk away from all of us. Nice." I'm not proud for rubbing his nose in it. But his version of reality is not aligned with what I'm having to watch here. He needs to see what he is doing to the two hearts that should matter more than any to him.

(Sigh)

But my beautiful boys...They are sitting behind me now, watching Tom & Jerry. They are resilient. They are favorites of God. And he has them in his hands. I pray God's protection over their minds, souls, hearts and bodies every night. God is good. He will bring them through this and will make them amazing men.

My boys rock.

It Ain't No Ladder

I have to be careful what I post about my marriage here. For one, my genius son might read it. And for two, lawyers will use anything against you. Isn't it a lovely world we live in?

So yesterday, my counselor (formerly my marriage counselor but now my solo-counselor) informed me that the stages of grief aren't like a ladder. People list them off like you're supposed to go, "Ok, I'm done with shock. On to denial. Ok, done with denial, on to anger." And that you have to hit them in order or you aren't grieving properly. She said it's more like a swing. You're gonna be all over the place - hitting one then the other, swinging back to one, swinging over to yet another. There is no set pattern. There are no rules. You're allowed to waffle. You're allowed to not know what the hell you're doing.

The only rule is - you HAVE to let yourself feel whatever one you're in at the moment. You have to find a way to afford your feeling it, owning it and letting it go.

Mom is letting me feel whatever I need to feel. She listens, she talks, she shares, she cries. She cares for my boys while I try to work. She vacuumed yesterday. She's giving my boys some semblance of normalcy. Oh the bliss of ignorance, eh?

So the stages of grief: they ain't no ladder. No rules. Just feel them. Thank you all for your kind words. I read every one of them. And I have asked God to bless every single one of you for your faithful love - especially those who have never even met me. You all rock.

Love you...

Updates on My Boyz and Clear Skin

Yes, I realize you're all dying to know the status of my skin. After a few days of pounding tons of water and slowly reintroducing SMALL amounts of sugary-lardy-cakey treats to my body, my skin has accepted its fate and has returned to its normal 41 yr old state. The only blemishes are actually the remnants of my shingles - those two cold sore type things on my lower lip. They're still faintly there. I think I'll take those in stead of the pimple-fest I just endured.

On to updates on my beautiful boys. I'll start with The Boy.

The Boy informs me that he still has the sensation in his hands and feet where he needs to touch things. I assume he is controlling it because I don't see him doing it much and have had no reports from the teacher. I always try to talk to him about it to make sure he's controlling it but without repressing anything. I always worry he's "controlling" these tics but the emotional toll is building up. I don't think so. The Boy is very demonstrative. He'll tell you what's going on in his head or he'll explode. Either way, we know what's going on.

Last night was Friday and that means he gets to stay up late. I think I took it a bit too late. You know how kids can get over tired and then it's hard for them to sleep. So last night, there were lots of tears at bed time over not having a bath. He had wanted a bubble bath and I had promised him one all day. But when we got home, we were in the middle of a huge lightening storm. I explained the dangers of bathing during a lightening storm (and this was a doozie!) but when you have your heart set on a bubble bath in your mom's huge garden tub, it's a bit of a let down. Add to that being over tired. Add to that the backward binocular small vision thing. Add to that allergies. He was an emotional mess - not to be consoled. So he ended up hanging out in my bed with me, watching the local news coverage of the severe thunderstorm we were having. We had the lights out and shades open so we got a really cool light show along with the news coverage. He finally got droopy enough to be carried to bed and fall asleep.

Other than that, he's doing well. School is easy for him and he informs me that homework is boring. Yah, just wait until physics and calculus, kiddo.

Lil Bro had an interesting day the other day. And by "interesting", I mean awful. And by "had", I mean was subject to by his psychotic parents. I'll tell you about it to A) hold myself somewhat accountable for being stupid and B) to show you that Lil Bro can put things in perspective even at the age of 3.

As I've mentioned before, Hubby and I are in the midst of a marriage...what...well, it was a full on crisis in January. It is now a roller coaster of emotion and anger that comes with two people full of pain and resentments that are trying to save a marriage for the sake of their kids. That's a gross understatement and generalization. But without boring you all to tears with the stupid details, let's just say it can be ok one day and an all out suck-fest the next.

So the other day, we were in suck-fest land. Hubby and I were attempting to communicate on some painful subjects - full of resentments on both sides. We are far from perfect people. And as such, we didn't follow any of the rules for communicating and arguing that our counselor has set for us. And I'll go so far as to say we didn't even TRY or think of the rules. We were in attack mode. It was great fun (NOT). I was trying hard to use the rules - to speak calmly and not attacking. I wasn't doing so hot with my tepid attempt. So each of us got worse and worse until I finally BLEW. And I mean BLEW. I recall shrieking things at the top of my lungs. I recall throwing my office chair across the room. I recall shoving Hubby out of my way on my way to run out of the house. And all of this was while Lil Bro was watching TV downstairs.

I love my house. It's a gorgeous house. But soundproof it ain't. So Lil Bro heard everything. And I don't think the language was the problem. It was the tone (ie - shriek) and then seeing his mom trying to run away. Oh if ever there is a low point of mothering, that was definitely one of my lowest.

Long story not so short: we got a grip. We calmed down and actually talked things out. While we were in this calm discussion, Lil Bro peeks around the doorway with this look like he's waiting for more office furniture to come careening around the corner. I called him in, pulled him onto my lap and he just smashed up against me. It was an amazing attempt at comfort and for him to feel safe. I felt like...worse than human excrement. I told him I was sorry for screaming. I asked if it had scared him and he nodded. Yah, worse than excrement. I told him that sometimes grown ups get angry and we don't react well. I shouldn't have screamed and I was so sorry for scaring him. It had nothing to do with him, etc. Honestly, I don't think my words did anything to undo anything.

Later that day, the family was together in the car. Hubby had gotten out of the car to run in somewhere. Lil Bro suddenly asked, "Mommy, is daddy your friend?" It took a couple times of asking for me to understand fully. But it almost made me cry. I said, yes, he's actually my BEST friend. I'm sure this made no sense to him after what he had seen that day. But it's true. I told Hubby about this later and he nearly cried.

That day, Hubby and I agreed that can never happen again. And not just on my part. He's had his male equivalent of those times. But we cannot risk damaging the beautiful little spirits entrusted to us by God. I did a lot of praying and apologizing to God for that day.

Gah. Those days suck. I hate them. I wish God would just POOF! us back to being ok. But obviously we are going to have to walk through this crap a bit longer before he fixes us. And I believe he will fix us to be better than we were before. He has to. We haven't been too good for a long while. But chose to just not deal with it - to deal would have been too hard. Oh if I could just go back a few years and change a few things! But I can't.

Thank you God for being here with my family and for protecting my boys from everything in this world - especially the shortcomings of their own parents.

(Sigh)

There you have it.

A Great Checkup

Well, back to the original intent of this here blog thang.

Today, The Boy went to see his psychiatrist for a checkup. Since he's seen her, he's been having a very mild time of it. (Thank you, God!) I have to say that it was a very nice checkup. She asks him lots of questions. Today, she seemed to be gauging his anxiety levels. He's not a huge worrier but he does tend to worry about things more than most 6 yr olds. It's hard to describe. He's not an anxious kid. But if he needs something to stick to a regimen or schedule, he really needs it to stick. Example: today, we had his doc appointment at 9am. So that meant missing morning school. He asked me when he'd get to school and I said probably some time around 10:30am. He immediately did a mental check of his class schedule and realized he wasn't sure what the class would be doing at 10:30. The class schedule had recently changed and he got pretty upset over the fact that he wasn't sure what they'd be doing at 10:30. Now, if an adult did that, I'd think they had serious problems. When a six yr old does that, I think, wow, they're headed for quite a rigid scheduled life. Anyway, I assured him that he'd find out what the class was doing once he got there and he shouldn't worry about it. He calmed down immediately. And what was so interesting about his self calming? I watched him - it was like he made a mental decision to calm down. I mean, honestly, he was so upset that his fists were balled up and his whole face was scrunched up in that panicky freak out expression we get when we're about to lose it. I thought he was going to flip out. But I watched him get a hold of himself and it was like he said, ok, I can deal with this. And he just calmed down. I thought that was interesting. I wish he could do that every time he was upset. Are you kidding? I wish I could do that every time I was upset!

The only other stuff going on is the continuing exaggerated blinking. It's not real bad these days. And he has this new verbal tic. Hard to describe. I need to start finding a way of embedding sound clips on this site. But it's like, while speaking, he's subconsciously doing this quick blowing out of the mouth but he'll flip his tongue in a way that...I don't know how to describe it. It ends up sounding like if you were pretending to hock a loogie but very softly. I have no other way to describe it. As his doctor pointed out, it's not so severe that you're taken aback. Most people don't seem to notice it. And, those of you that have 4-6 yr old children in your life know that they're all making some kind of noise almost constantly. It's a very experimental age. With most kids, you can tell they're just trying stuff out. With The Boy, you can pretty much tell that he doesn't realize he's doing it and he can't control it. But hey - it's a very mild tic given the spectrum of tics.

The doctor asked if he had been making any progress in his maturity development. He is quite an interesting little guy. He's brilliant and that is very apparent when you meet him. But being incredibly smart doesn't always mean you're mature. And I think that tends to be a problem for The Boy. People meet him and note his ability to communicate way beyond his age. He can read texts that you and I might struggle with. Granted, he won't know what all the words mean, but he can read and write better than a lot of high school students I know. He can add and subtract the most ridiculously large numbers. His hobby is making multiplication charts on the computer - and not using a calculator - using his head. And not just 12 by 12 but 15 by 15 or larger. People experience these things in him and accidentally classify him as an older person than he is. He's so smart, we expect him to be able to function with the maturity of a junior high kid. But he is the quintessential 6 yr old. He loves burping and farting and slapstick humor (wait...that describes most grown men....hmmmm). He loves to dance with wild abandon. He loves to run around large areas until he falls down. He likes to spin until he falls down. He loves Care Bears and could care less how many boys tell him they're just for girls. He will get right up in someone's face, introduce himself and start asking them their name, age, house number, etc. He has no boundaries like an older kid would have.

His doctor said something very interesting today. She said The Boy lives in a very happy world where people are nice and friendly. Where everyone is helpful and loving. It's a beautiful world he lives in. When the real world (or negative aspects of that world) intrude on his world, it's still hard for him to deal with at times. That may be where the anxiety comes in. But we discussed how it's a lovely world The Boy lives in. And it's sad that, some day, he'll need to realize that not everyone is part of that world. I love that part of him because it's part of what makes him so generous and loving. But I fear his world because it's what makes him trust anyone. As his doctor put it, "He knows no strangers." We're teaching him. But I still see the confusion for him. When we try to explain dangers of strangers, why he can't play outside alone, why we can't leave him in the car alone, why he has to stay close to us, why he can't open the door when the doorbell rings, he'll accept our rules. And he'll accept that we're saying there are people out there who aren't all that nice. But I can see that younger mentality wrestling with - how can anyone be mean or dangerous? Everyone is so NICE! It's a normal part of growing up. But I think the point here is, most kids in 1st grade have a much better grip on that caution with the unknown. Not all. But most of the ones I know are not still as trusting as they were when they were 4 or 5.

Boy I'm really rambling here. I don't really have much direction in my thoughts today. I guess The Boy's duality still amazes me: his brilliance that rivals kids much older than him and his youthful trust in the entire world that speaks of a much younger kid. It's wacky. And I love it.

Anyway, I'm thankful that the TS tics are minimal at this point. And his anxiety seems to be at levels that he can control himself. His doctor says she won't need to see him until July 2007 unless something comes up in the mean time. That made me pretty darn happy.

Pray big. Expect miracles. Yah baby!