Today is Mother’s Day and all over Facebook and Twitter folks are thanking and reflecting on their mothers and being a mother. CBS Sunday Morning profiled Christy Turlington, the supermodel. Just so you know, things are going really great for her.

She is married to filmmaker, Ed Burns. They have two cute little kids, she is working on her masters degree and trying to save the world. All while looking gorgeous. Good for her. I am glad she made something of herself and finally quit smoking… I was getting worried.

They also did a piece on a Gallup well-being poll. Looks like Boulder is the place to live, or Hawaii. Good to know.

I usually don’t watch TV, I am rarely off of the internet. For some reason I turned it on today. These two pieces caused me to reflect on my own state, it is Mother’s Day after all .

I am waiting for G to call me and tell me I can pick him up. Since I am no longer married to his father we share custody. Mother’s Day never falls on my weekend. But, his dad is a peach and always allows me to have him for the day.

My son is the best person I know. He is so very smart. He keeps me in line. Is that right? Nope. But, it is true. He does things like pat me on the head and say “Let’s leave the cooking to the grown-ups.”

I could go on and on with examples of things he tells me and things he has done, but he no longer appreciates that. He does not want me to embarrass him. G makes me proud and I need to work much harder and make him proud as well.

The end.

No Fun at All

October 17, 2009

Guilt. I have so much guilt when it comes to Griffin. Last week he got in trouble. He has lost his Nintendo DS. This has made him sad and it has made me crazy looking everywhere for it. Where is that thing? While we were going through a mental checklist I said “no one at school would have taken it would they?” We talked about it and came to the conclusion that no one would have done that. Thursday night his dad called me and he got in big trouble at school. In Kids Korner (after school program that I hate) Griffin started accusing certain kids of stealing his DS. I have never heard his dad so angry, well not at someone other than me. I told his dad it was my fault that I planted that seed in his head. His dad was mad for a minute but then said no that Griffin is responsible. And this is the one thing that I don’t consider ever. That Griffin is growing up and he is responsible. I am often accused of “babying” him. I used to be offended by that but lately I am thinking I do. What was I like when I was 10? I thought I was a grown up. He is now 10 and he needs to become more independent and responsible for his words, ideas and actions. He is just such a good boy. And I can’t stand to see him hurting.

Most times I feel I am too close to the situation. I am not able to rise above and become a parent. I melt down within the problem and feelings he is having and make things worse by adding my own anxiety and opinion. And my opinion almost always matches Griffin. Griffin gets angry at things that are not just in the world. And most of the time he is right. Things often suck. I am not the type of parent to tell him “That’s just the way it is, life is hard kiddo.” I encourage him to keep a diary of what pisses him off – he hasn’t done that yet – honestly he is too lazy. He likes to play video games and watch youtube and tv. It is so rare that he gets in trouble for anything, that I don’t ride his tail because he is just so sweet and nice. I need to be more like a parent and make him to chores and things for himself. I am not doing him any favors. His angry dad told me that he is in trouble and we cannot have any fun this weekend. I had planned to pick him up and buy him another DS and new games. I have no money, but I don’t care – I want him to be happy. But I can’t do that now because he accused innocent children of stealing. So, I bought him one new book. He is grounded. He is sorry and I am sorry and we are having no fun at all.

Drained

August 28, 2009

It has been a difficult time. Difficult time are words used by PR people to say shit storm. I am a PR person. First, Michael was in a car accident. Then, Bill died while riding his bike. Now, Carol is in a coma from an aneurysm. I hate the fact that I always have to spell check aneurysm. I have lost so many people to an aneurysm, why don’t I know how to spell it??? I decided to take a few days off. Griffin and I were going to relax today and then I was going to take him to his dad’s at 5:00 and I was going to have the night to myself. M has a show in Detroit and I was looking forward to a night out by myself. Michelle, Griffin’s step mom called me at 12:45 and … long story short we decided Griffin needs to switch schools. Right away. So, he is starting school Monday instead of on the 8th. This is a big deal for him since he has been at the same school since he was three.

With Griffin I feel we are E.T and Elliott. I know what he is feeling. I feel what he feels. This time though, I know this is the right decision. His old school was not good enough for him. He is too smart and he needs to be in the best school. It is going to be rough, but it is the right choice.

So, now I am bored and alone and making dinner. I might play pinball. I might not. My mind is tired.

I make myself sick. Griffin has been working on a presentation for school. He is Stevie Wonder for a Live Museum ~ Picture Night at the Museum but at a small catholic school with no budget in a small run down city. He had to research Stevie, write a paper, make a timeline of his life, and come up with a costume. I helped him a little bit with this, but it was mostly the other family. I can’t seem to get in the game. But, last week Griffin and I got in the car and we went costume shopping. We found a wig and sunglasses and planned an outfit.

On Thursday, I took time off work to volunteer at the museum. I emailed his teacher that I would be there to help. When I got there Griffin was cool and ready. But when the pressure started to rise regarding performing in front of Kindergarten, First, Second and Third Grade, he lost it. He went nuts saying he didn’t know his lines. The other kids were to tap him on his shoulder to make him come to life and explain who he was. I tried to talk to him for about a half hour, to give him a pep talk about what a great performer he was. I know Griffin can improvise and entertain. He wasn’t buying it. Two room mothers took over and grabbed his tear drenched cheeks and I had to walk away. I wondered if I had caused his anxiety.

Was my being there the cause of his fear? I started to blame myself. I convinced myself that he would be better off without me. This is why I hate myself. There is no end to my selfishness. Me Me with a little Me on the side.

Time went on and soon the first class showed up to visit the museum. It was not long before I heard my sweet little confident Griffin say in his loud beautiful voice – “HI!!! I’m Stevie Wonder, I was born on May 13, 1950 in Saginaw Michigan.

I was across the room, trying not to hover. My eyes welled. He is the most incredible kid. He got it together and performed. I do not know where he gets his strength. I only know that he is going to need it.

Every morning when I drop Griffin at school we say the same thing, “Jack, you’re doing it wrong.” Of course you know that line comes from the movie Mr. Mom.

Jack, played by Michael Keaton is taking his kids to school and has no idea what he is doing. My son is now ten, and sometimes I still don’t feel like I know. What street do you enter the parking lot on? Which door does N-Z get dropped off at? Today, I had a moment of fear that threw me back to the days of first grade. We were behind my dream car (a Chrysler 300m with a Hemi in creamy white).

The father got out of the car and Martha, the school drop off attendant came around the other side to collect the daughter. Then (this is the scary part) the father pulled out his WALLET. and I said to Griffin…”OH MY GOD!!! Are we supposed to tip Martha!!! Griffin said “Uh… No, mom. I don’t think so.” and then got out of the car and ran to play with his friends before the bell rings. Griffin has long since stopped caring about me and saying goodbye, have a good day, I love you mom. Seconds later, I saw the man hand $2.20 to the little girl. It’s called lunch money. Thank Buddha, I did that right.

Doubt

March 10, 2009

It all started with this statement “Mom, I want to go to church.” When I was a little girl, I was forced to go to church because I was not allowed to stay home alone when my parents went, so since my parents were not monsters, I had to go with them. Mostly, this stopped me from setting the house on fire and rifling through their underwear drawers (which, I did anyway and found incredible stuff). I hated church. It was long and boring. I hated having to get up early on my weekend, wearing tights, dresses and smiling at strangers. So, like Sybil, I altered reality. I used this time to pretend that I was a princess, and the church was my castle and all of the people were there to see me and sing for me. I was the god they were talking about and the one they brought the cookies and punch for. It worked until I was old enough to say things like “Fuck off, you can’t make me go anywhere I don’t want to!” (read spoiled brat)

When I turned 16, I met a guy that I completely lost my mind for. He was 22 and liked The Doors, Led Zeppelin and James Bond. It was the challenge and the chase that drove me bananas. I quit caring about school, friends and most of all myself (remember to read He’s Just Not that Into You and The Rules). Due to the age difference I had to keep him a secret from my parents. When they found out about this affair, I broke their heart.

I will sum up by saying, I felt tremendous guilt. I spent the next four years trying to win back their trust. I ended up marrying him, buying a couple of houses, getting a dog, having a baby and eventually returning to church… his church, the Catholic one. I never turned catholic. And eventually the marriage built on sneaking around and classic rock fell apart.

Now I am remarried and my son is ten. Before he was born, I had agreed to raise him catholic. He and his dad’s side of the family all go to church on Sunday. In the early 1990’s his dad hated church-never went. All he wanted was to get down with jail bait. Also, he never wanted to get married or have kids.

My current husband was also raised catholic, yet doesn’t want to go church, yet gives up shit for lent including not eating “meat” on Fridays yet he doesn’t want to pray before a meal when the child suggests it, because he thinks the little one is being brainwashed by his biological father.

I am confused by organized religion. I don’t buy any of it. All I know is of a boy that doesn’t ask much of me. Unlike these adult men that don’t seem to believe in much of anything.

“Mom, have you ever been nervous about nothing?”…. stopped dead. “Yes, I have.” “What do you do? What causes it? “I don’t know. But I do know that you don’t have to be nervous. That you have four adults that are here to take care of everything for you.”

“So, you will protect me from nothing?” “Yes, …. yes I will.” However, I do not lie to Griffin so this conversation hurt. I can’t protect him from this path just as my parents couldn’t protect me. I know about anxiety. We are good friends. I don’t want this for him. I want him to be safe, happy and healthy. None of that mental game bullshit. ajreoiauroa aoieuroeiaaeai ja aeoi ………………..We will work it out.