Time Marches On

I've been pondering the beast that is "Time" lately. There is not enough of it. There is not enough Time at work, there is not enough Time at home, there is not enough Time with friends and family, and it feels like the days pass at warp speed.

It's been bothering me that I've abandoned my writing. I've always written in some form, but it's been almost 6 months since I've posted anything to Cartwheels. It's a double-edge sword: I think it's a shame that I spent so many years being sad and expressing it in my writing and in my need to write and now that I live every day in happiness and contentment, I don't take the time to share it and record it so that I can look back on it and remember how wonderful I feel at this moment.

It was a busy spring. I barely remember it, quite frankly. I started a new job that required me to be in Indianapolis for training for 3 months. Most people stayed down there during the week and came home on the weekends. I couldn't do that. With Tim working 24-hour shifts and kids at home, there was no way for me to just leave for a week at a time. So I commuted each day - left at 5:15am and returned at 6:00pm. I was in bed at 8 most nights. That left little time for writing or anything else. Tim picked up the slack by taking on the laundry, the cooking, the kids, and most of the cleaning. I couldn't be more grateful. Our amazing Family filled in the empty spots.

When summer came, I decided it was time to build a fence, a patio, and 3 new flower beds. Two are currently complete. But the backyard looks fabulous. If only there was Time to use it.

I haven't been taking pictures. I've taken half as many photos this year as I usually do. That's not ok. The year will be gone and I'll wonder how we spent the Time.

I did take the Time to read 2 books lately, one Mac asked me to read, and "The Last Summer (Of You & Me)." I am currently ignoring "Firefly Lane."

My hair is growing out again. It should take some Time - a couple of years - to get it back to where it belongs. I should really stop cutting it. Mac looked at me one day last winter, a year after I'd cut my hair and said, "Mom, when are you going to grow your hair back? You don't look like you." And she's right. I don't feel like me. I should invest in a new mirror before it gets much longer, though, before I get tired of not being able to see myself again and shave it.

I haven't had enough Time for friends. For talking on the phone with Annie and Beth, for Tim and I to attend the Mosey down Main Street with Scott and Zandra, for going to my cousin Gretchen's house for beers and girltalk. I've only been to the pool twice this year, for heaven's sake! Alison laughed at my white, white legs. My legs have never been white! Even in the winter, my skin is darker than all my friends! It appears I've been spending too much time in the office and the house. This needs to change. Maybe this weekend.

It's a little late for New Year's Resolutions, but I think I'll resolve to write more. To find some Time to record how amazing our life is. So that when the kids are gone, and Tim and I are old, we won't look at each other and wonder how we spent all that Time.

Appreciation, Learned

Last Thursday, Mac asked if she could go to Illinois for the weekend with her friend, J. J's mom moved to Illinois last fall and J, being 14, didn't want to move away from all of her friends so she stayed behind, living with her grandma. She and her grandma drive the 3 hours to her mom's house nearly every weekend and asked if Mac could go this time. Of course, knowing J well and having met her grandma, we said yes. They left after school on Friday and were to return on Sunday.

On Sunday at 3, I called her. They had just arrived at the mall in Peoria to shop. This was not good news to me; I immediately realized that they would be *much* later coming home than I had realized. I asked her to call me when they got on the road headed for home.

At 6:00, I called. They were just leaving the restaurant after having had dinner. They were going back to Mom's house and then leaving from there. Mom's house is 30 minutes away from Peoria in the opposite direction. I could tell by Mackenzie's voice on the phone that she was ready to come home but didn't say anything. I asked her again to call when they left.

At 8:30, I called again. They were just leaving Mom's house. This meant that they would not return home until at least 11:30pm. On a Sunday night. In February. Tim and I were not ok with that but what are we going to do now?

At 11:34, she walked in the door. I kissed her goodnight and told her I'd see her in the morning. In the morning, I gently told her that I realize it wasn't her fault, but the next time she asked to go to Illinois with J, I was going to have to say no. She didn't protest at all and said that she probably wouldn't want to go back anyway. That statement concerned me a little, but I didn't press her. She talks in her own time.

As she got out of the car, she leaned over and kissed and hugged me; odd for a 14-year-old in the drop-off lane. I asked if everything was ok and she just said, "I'm so glad we're not a normal mother and daughter."

"What do you mean?"

"We don't fight."

I drove off with a tear in my eye. For all those terrible years, Mac and I were each other's anchor. We were in it together and made the most of it together. She's Rory to my Lorelai.

When I picked her up from school, she and I were alone in the car. I asked if I could buy her a coffee. As we pulled up to Barnes and Noble, she started to talk. She talked about being uncomfortable at J's mom's house. She didn't want to be critical but noted that other people's homes weren't as clean as ours and that it made her anxious. She said that the way they treated each other in that home made her feel awkward - the yelling and the disrespect. She was trying not to be a snob but said that the two couples living in the house with the various children from relationships past and present and the lack of shirt-wearing on the part of Mom's boyfriend was too "rednecky" for her.

She loves her friend J and would never want to hurt her feelings and understands that everyone grows up under different circumstances and with different values, but from now on would like to keep her friend's family at an arm's length.

This is the first time she has spent time with a family so different than hers. She came home with a new awareness that her social norms aren't necessarily the same as even her best friend's. She came home with a new appreciation for her life circumstances and with a sense of gratitude for the tenor in our household.

I hate that Mackenzie had to experience an uncomfortable weekend to reinforce how fortunate she is, but I'm so grateful that she was able to recognize and appreciate the life we have made for her.

Babycat Haz A Deathwish

Last week she was playing in the heavy pottery bowl on the side table which, before this particular incident, housed the clickers. There was a chap stick in the bottom of the bowl and one of her favorite games involved trying to get that chap stick out to bat around the floor. Until last week when she knocked the bowl off the side table, scattering the contents, shattering the bowl, and ran off to curl up under the dining room table. When I finally pulled her out, I could see that she was holding her right leg up and limped terribly on it; is still limping on it. The vet said it's not broken.

One night recently, Tim and I went to a funeral. Before we left, I shut the closet door in Alex's room. When we returned five hours later, Mac mentioned that she hadn't seen Babycat in a long time. I instantly panicked. The wind chill was below freezing outside. We called for her. We shook the treat jar. Nothing. Then. Something reminded me that I had shut the closet door in Alex's room. I crept past where he was sleeping and could hear her crying inside the closet. I opened the door and she ran to the food bowl, evidently relieved that she didn't starve to death that night.

Several nights later, Babycat was playing on a dining room chair, jumping up at the back of it, chasing some unseen fun. While at the top of a jump, she managed to stick her head between the slats and practically strangle herself as she came back down. For the slats narrow at the bottom of the chair and she isn't tall enough to push herself back up. Luckily, I happened to be standing Right There and was able to lift her head up and out of the deathtrap, shaking at the realization that if we hadn't been home, or even in the same room with her, she would have died. I turned to Tim and said, "We need new chairs. These are a safety hazard." He just smiled and told me, "Ok." (And he totally would, you know - buy new chairs to save my baby girl.)

The next night, she jumped off the spiral staircase from over 6 feet up. She flew through the air, only to land and run, once again, under the dining room table, curled up in a ball. She appeared to be fine several minutes later when she started batting a ping pong ball around the room.

After this last incident, Tim gently approached me and pointed out, "Didn't you remove Babycat from a home with terrible living conditions and bring her here to protect her?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Baby," he tenderly said. "Maybe she would have been safer there?"

And all I could do was laugh and recall the Social Worker's mantra: "We're not looking for The Best environment. We're looking for a Safe environment."

...and consider how ironic it would be if I rescued Babycat from that home only to have her die in an accident in mine.

In Which Paige Refers to Herself In the Third Person

Paige got a Facebook. She succumbed to Annie's persistent suggestion that she could talk on the phone less if Annie could see what she was doing more frequently.

Annie was right. (As she usually is, and we all know this so don't go telling her how amazing she is thereby giving her the Big Head. This is why we call her "The Voice of Reason.")

Anyway, Paige has a Facebook, and Tim has one, and many of their friends have one. They have gotten in touch with old friends (WLHS Class of '85!) and gotten to know new friends (Hi, Joni!) and have generally been having a grand old time. The one drawback Paige has found is that she is starting to narrate her day to herself in third person. Behold...

Paige hates cold dark mornings. She doesn't want to get up.
Paige. Needs. Coffee.
Paige LOVES that Tim brings her coffee every morning.
Paige thinks winter is stoopid.
Paige can't decide if laundry or vacuuming is priority.
Paige thinks Tim's voice is sexy. Not Darth-Vadery like Mac says.
Paige should take something out of the freezer for dinner.
Paige notes that she has to pick up Mackenzie and Alex in 45 minutes.
Paige is neglecting the Blog again.
Paige feels fat. Pass the Peanut M&M's.
Paige shouldn't procrastinate on Facebook.
Paige is roasting red peppers.
Paige wishes cats didn't poop.
Paige and Tim need privacy.

Paige is happy that someone invented Facebook and invited us all to play, but wishes that it hadn't brought to glaring light that she is slightly nuts.

My Favorite Things

...lazy Sunday mornings having coffee with Tim.
...a bookcase full of new possibilities.
...a house de-furred.
...Snoopy.
...smiling. Smiling's my favorite.
...Joe performing.
...good-hair days.
...margaritas.
...the way Alex signs "I love you."
...Spring.
...laughing with my sister.
...early morning, before the kids are up.
...Babycat curled up on the back of my chair.
...taking a photo with just the right light.
...a Slinky.
...waking up to find that it's only 3am and I have several more hours of sleep.
...Mac Paints in Sublime.
...Oatmeal Raisin cookies.
...my amazing Navy Wife sisters. xoxo.
...a new candle.
...how Dillon says, "Hey, Mama!" when he answers my phonecall.
...Lucy.
...holding hands.
...watching a fountain.
...Alex smiling.
...Tim's voice.
...finishing a scarf.
...a sale at The Gap.
...learning new signs.
...a fire in the fireplace.
...new paint colors.
...a sunbeam.
...Mackenzie's hair.

Bigcat Haz Envy

Emily and Melyssa sent me a letter.


Bigcat ate it. He does not want to hear about your Down Under Summertime and your beaches and your sunburns. He is cold.

Exhibit A:
Across the street.


Exhibit 2:
Down the street.


Please, if you could, send Bigcat some earmuffs. Thank you.

Again With the Paint

There has been a painting situation going down in this house lately.

In 2007, I fell in love at first sight with my home right off the MLS sheet. I called my realtor (the Worst Realtor Ever, BTW) who got me in to see it the very next day and standing on the front porch, after months of searching and countless boring houses, I knew that this was the house I was going to buy - a tiny little 2-bedroom bungalow with a semi-finished basement. It looked like a beach house with the massive windows, snow white trim, and scuffed-up hardwood floors. I wanted to expand on the beachy feeling and in sharp contrast to the vivid colors I painted the townhouse in Virginia*, I chose seaside shades for this home - sand, green beachglass, and blue, blue water. I wanted to create a soothing, relaxing, girlie-if-you-will, space for what I expected to be mine and Mackenzie's oasis.

That lasted one year.

With a new husband and new sons and new busyness, the colors in this home haven't felt vibrant enough for this family in constant motion. So last week, I painted the dining room Asparagus Green:



... and this week the living room will be Robin's Egg Blue (keeping the brown on the chimney):


Hopefully by spring, the kitchen cabinets will be white, the walls Periwinkle, and the back wall of the kitchen chalkboard paint - necessary for keeping track of my crew.

Mackenzie laughed at me when I told her what I was going to do, saying, "I don't know why you painted the house those colors in the first place - I think you were trying to be grown up. Are you over it now?"

And I suppose I am. The bold colors are back and they seem to infuse our home with a vibrancy that fits the constant hustle and bustle around here.

*Wow. There is a lot of new furniture in this house - a combination of selling my old stuff on CraigsList and purchasing new PaigeAndTim furniture, and a bit of Tim's stuff added to the mixture.

All We Ask is a Little Understanding

Transitions are hard for Alex. He needs fair warning if we are to leave the house, if it's time to take down the Christmas tree, or if it's almost time to turn off the movie and take a bath. Autistic children prefer order and routine. They don't like you to spring a new plan on them without plenty of advance notice. And for an autistic child of divorce, the change in households, routine, expectations, and rules can be terribly disorienting.

Alex spends every other weekend with his mother in Indianapolis (and usually one night of that with her parents in town) and those Sunday nights when he comes home can be so frustrating for him. Last Sunday evening, he was a little fired up when he came home from his visit so I put "Bee Movie" in the DVD player in his room so that he could watch and just chill out for the 30 minutes before bed which he watched for a bit before asking for Tim. I explained and signed to him that Tim was at work but that we could call him on the phone so Alex could talk to him. While the phone was ringing, Alex signed "boat" (meaning that he wanted to watch PT109). We only have that movie on the DVD hard drive located out in the living room where Mac was reading and it was only 10 minutes before bed, so I told Alex that we could not watch it tonight but that we could watch it tomorrow. This information was more than he could handle and his little mouth opened up and he closed his eyes and just started bawling. (Of course at this moment, Tim answered the phone and wondered what the hell was going on. I quickly explained and told him we would have to call him back.) Alex came to me and put his arms around me, soaking my shoulder with his ginormous crocodile tears and I took him to his room and lay down with him, chattering all the while, trying to take his mind off of his Enormous Sad. I ended up the speaking voice for Mr. Crabs - a half French, half Spanish accent - and within 5 minutes he had forgotten all about his boat movie disappointment and was cracking up at The Silly. He talked to Tim for a few minutes before nearly passing out from exhaustion.

Last night was a similar scenario. He was still transitioning from his mom's house, add in the transition from a 2 week break, and the poor boy spent the hours between school and bed just moments away from tears and finally - I don't even remember what it was - but something tipped him just over the edge. Tim was home and took him to lie down at which point Alex fell asleep almost immediately. The first day back at school wore him out.

I hate that he has to deal with this change every 2 weeks. I hate the enormous disappointment that comes from not being able to expect the same rules and routine in each household he frequents. If all 3 households could work together to have and enforce the same rules, this problem would be lessened, but I think it's too much to ask 2 sets of parents and 1 set of grandparents to agree on what the rules are and how they will be enforced. I tell myself that on some level the frequent transition is good for him - it keeps him from becoming too much of a homebody keeping the same repetitive routine. But on nights like Sunday and Monday, we want to never let him leave our sight again. We want to form a protective cocoon around him and let him know exactly what he can expect from one moment to the next. He was better tonight. There wasn't a single tear and he was engaged and playing with Mackenzie and I.

While at my daily de-briefing with his teacher this afternoon, she said that Alex had been experiencing some behaviors (a few tears, slight aggression) but she just thought that it was just a "transition thing" unlike his last teacher, who would have put him in an extended time out, perpetuating the behaviors. We love his new teacher. She is smart and she understands Alex.

Standing on the Threshold of 2009

Last year, Annie dubbed 2008 "The Year of Paige." She was right and I rocked the last year. I worked, I paid the mortgage all by myself, I mothered 2 children alone, I maintained my home, and I fell in love. Right in the middle of my I-Am-Woman-Hear-Me-Roar One Woman Show, I fell in love...

And you know how you go to your stuffy Great-Aunt Gertrude's home for Thanksgiving and everyone is dressed up in their finest and using every single manner that they ever learned and then, during a lull in the conversation at the Adult Table, YOUR PRE-SCHOOLER drops the F-Bomb at the top of his lungs? You know how it makes the very Earth slow down and the entire Universe of Your Family sucks in their collective breath to see what is going to happen? And then every single eye in the room is on you? While the cogs in their brains are working overtime to try and figure this out - how this could happen Right Here and Right Now?

In my world, that is what happened last summer when Tim and I announced that we were going to get married. I didn't expect anyone to understand it, but I knew it was Right. And now, barely six months later, my 968 square-foot bungalow with a basement has expanded to include an attic room, my 3-person family has expanded to 7, the peace and quiet and clean is all but gone, and I am happier than I have ever been in my life and my family can see that. I have a husband, but I also have a Voice. I have to compromise again, but my needs and desires Count. I don't run a bank or perform life-saving surgeries, but to my husband and my children, I am as Important as the CEOs who run this country and the doctors who save our lives.

There are still repurcussions from my past life that bite me in the butt every day, but 2008 gave me Power. It taught me to stand up for myself and fight for what is right. It taught me that rolling over on important issues will not work for me and that I have a responsibility not only to myself, but to my children to take a stand.

I've closed the door on 2008 and standing on the threshold of 2009, I am happier than I have ever been in my life. I don't yet know what the new year has in store for us, but I do know that whatever comes our way, Tim and I will handle it together - the good and the bad.

And anyway, I have a feeling - it's going to be a happy year.

Reading List 2009

Hello. Let's endeavor to read more this year than during the past 2 years, shall we?

• Devil in the White City ~Erik Larson (started 10/08, finished 1/09 - I will not be winning any speed-reading contests at this rate)
• A Certain Slant of Light ~Laura Whitcomb
  

7 Days:Day 7: Kickin' Our Feet Up

We are beat. The week has done us in and we are so exhausted that I don't even know what to write in this description!

BYE, Everyone! It was a blast as always! As long as Russ remembers to send me a reminder email, I will see you all in March! xo

Taken for the Flickr group, 7 Days.

7 Days:Day 6: Spiral Portrait

Merry Christmas! You'd think I'd have a Christmasey-er photo for today... but you'd be wrong. The day was packed and i quickly took this one on the recently-almost-finished staircase before leaving to visit the Parental Units.

Taken for the Flickr group, 7 Days.

7 Days:Day 5: Wish

Theme: Where am I?

I'm Wishing IN the Star. Merry, Merry Christmas, Everyone!

Taken for the Flickr group, 7 Days.

7 Days:Day 4: Twinkletoes

All of a sudden, Christmas Eve is tomorrow. I wish now, that I hadn't spent Sunday in Epic Laziness. Here's a quick 7 Days shot to post so I can go about my business.

(And on a sidenote, this is the second of my 3 tattoos. It is a circle made of Autism puzzle pieces with 4 footprints running through it representing the 4 kids: Dillon, Joe, Alex and Mackenzie. Each of the footprints touches the puzzle, just as Alex's autism touches each of their lives.) Tim has the same design under his arm.

Taken for the Flickr group, 7 Days.

7 Days:Day 3: Candy Cane

...from my favorite candy store in town. When I was living away from home all those years, Mom always made an effort to go downtown to McCord Candies to buy me my very own stash of their candy canes. This year, my new husband brought me a bag.

Taken for the Flickr group, 7 Days.