I got a haircut yesterday. I was brave and went to Walmart, risking potential baldness. I was even more brave and, rather than just asking her to take off two inches and put in a couple long layers, I went for long bangs and some face framing. She took off more than I asked for, but it's a fairly decent cut, so hooray!
But my haircut isn't really what I wanted to write about. Sean came home and saw my not-long and not curly-hair and... "You look beautiful!" He loved it, and was...almost in awe? That sounds incredibly melodramatic, but I can't think of a better description. Once again, I was struck by how incredibly lucky I am to have someone who sees ME and who loves ME and who appreciates ME.
Jeff didn't like when I cut my hair, or blew it out. He tried to be as nice as he's capable of being, but he liked when it was long and curly, because that's what he thought was sexy, regardless of how well it suited me (or not). And the thing is, long curly hair *can* be really pretty, but it's a lot of work and takes a little luck. If I'm lucky enough to have gotten enough good cuts close enough together than my hair has grown long in a pretty way, I enjoy it for a while, but inevitably, it'll get not-pretty. Either I'll get a not-great cut, or I wait too long between cuts and the layers get screwy, or idek, but for a while, I try to play with different ways to pin it back and put it up, but really, I lack skills in that department, so my long hair ends up either constantly up in a messy bun (because it won't even go into a cute pony), or if I leave it down, it just hangs there, not flattering my face at all and looking either frumpy or childish, depending on the day. Then I cut it, and voila! I look my age again! Young (but not childish), a tiny bit funky, and professional all at once. Inevitably, the length and the layers flatter my face much more, and...it's just a good thing.
And Sean saw that. He thought I looked pretty cuz he actually saw ME.
preeeeeeeety sure the 10 years I was a stepmother of 4 gave me more parenting experience than the 3 years you've been a mother of one. Not that it's a contest. It's not. And not that being a stepmother is the same as being a mother. It's not. But you learn a fuckload of a lot about parenting from it.
I really fucking hate "when you're a parent...." Fuck you. Do I know everything? No. Have I seen enough to know that there are a *very* few select things that I will insist on? Yes. Do I also understand that I may well change my mind about those things? Yep.
I think it's stupid that my aunt insists that my cousins will neverever play soccer (and maybe hockey?) because parks and rec soccer leads to club soccer, and she doesn't want her family's entire life to revolve around travel soccer, but hey, that's not my family. That's one over her very few things she has always insisted upon since before my cousins were even born that she's actually stuck to (so far), so...whatever.
For me, I can already tell you it's gonna be shoes. When my kids are old enough to buy their own shoes, they can do what they want, but I'm not buying them flip-flops, jellies, or other crap shoes that are awful for their feet. The End. I suppose if I have a kid with some kind of sensory issues or something that honest-to-goodness couldn't stand hardly anything on their feet, then MAYBE, but even then, I have a hard time imagining a situation where Tevas or Crocs wouldn't work out instead.
But again, I really, REALLY hate "when you're a parent, you'll understand." Fuck you. I understand better than you will ever know, because you haven't lived my life.
I'm not a stepmom anymore, but mother's day still makes me sad. not out-of-place, like it used to, but sad. I finally felt like I was figuring out how I fit into my kids' lives, and they were taken from me. I miss them
My still relatively new job is working as a kick-ass parapro in a special ed preschool program in the local public school system. Preschool. A lot of my kids will be going to kindergarten next year. Kindergarten... They're just a year younger than those babies who were slaughtered. They can be a very challenging group of kids, even for the seasoned special ed preschool teachers, so much so that we've jokingly refered to some of them as Devil Children. For whatever reason, they were ALL absolute angels today, both my morning and afternoon groups, and were really snuggly, even kids who aren't usually very affectionate. It was a lovely day, but I somehow think that it's going to be a while before we complain about them being less than perfect...
After I got home, and everything sunk in, and after Sean said I was the first thing he thought of when he heard what happened, all I could think of was... We had a Code Red drill a little over a week ago. Me, a speech therapist, and 14 kids hiding on the floor in the coat room. Trying to keep ANY four year olds quiet for any length of time is a challenge, but special ed 4 year olds? yeah... I kept thinking "what if that was REAL?" What would I do? How would I keep my kids safe?
I've discovered yoga Not WiiFit yoga, which I've enjoyed for a few years, or yoga DVDs, which I've tried. Actual classes in a studio OMG, why have I not been doing this for years?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? Love, love, love!!!! I finally decided to try a class at the hot yoga studio near the parents' house Monday night, since I actually got out of work at a reasonable time. I'd been wanting to try it for a while, but I've just been working so much, blah blah blah
It isn't often you find something that's everything it's cracked up to be, but holy cow, it's calming, relaxing, EXHAUSTING, centering...it's amazing!
I engaged in some serious retail therapy this week. Yes, I spent over $100 on stuff I don't need, because shopping makes me feel better. Psychotherapy is $115/45 minute hour, so I figure this was probably a better use of my money, right?
I bought some Thanksgiving books for my classroom, which I'm pretty excited about. One of them is called Thanks For Thanksgiving, and is all about being thankful for things that make us happy (hugs and kisses, play dates, ice cream), and makes the whole concept of gratitude accessible to my little ones. I wasn't sure how I was going to teach my not-quite-three year olds about being thankful, or if I was even going to be able to do it, so that's a pretty fab tool. Another book tells the story of Thanksgiving for 2-5 year olds, and the third has all kinds of pictures from Plymouth Plantation (I love that place) and describes the life of Pilgrims.
The Polar Express, with a cd recording was added to my stash (love, love, LOVE that book!!!) and......Elf on a Shelf. He was way more money than I normally spend on things for my classroom, but I thought the idea was so cool when I heard about it last year, when I saw him at Target, I got it. It really wasn't an impulse buy; I had been planning to ask my sister to pick it up from this specialty toy store near her house that I knew had it last year, before Elf on a Shelf went mainstream. I was so excited, I took Elf back to my classroom to show another teacher, and some of the kids found him. No biggie, I said Santa sent him to visit, that the elf would be coming to watch them and report back to Santa who was being naughty and who was being nice.
Poor Tyler!!! He started bawling, convulsively sobbing, because "Santa is going to bring presents to everyone in my family but not to me and I won't get anything because I'm naaaaaaaaaughty!!!!!!!!" It took me a good ten minutes to calm him down--"Santa knows if you are *trying* to make good choices, and the elf will tell him, too," etc. I felt bad for poor Ty (this is also a kid who, when other children make him mad, he tells them "You're bad!" which makes you wonder what he's hearing at home, because it obviously is not making him feel good about himself), but part of me was turning cartwheels and singing "Hooray! This is gonna be the best behavior modification tool EVAR!!!!!" I cannot WAIT for the elf to officially come to school, which I think I'll do the first school day after Thanksgiving. Don't want the novelty to wear off, you know....
+my therapist called, because I haven't been in since...June? or July? in a long time, and she needs to close the case. BUUUUUUUUT she has her own practice that she runs out of her home office and she only charges $70/session. Which is good, since I obviously need help.
-Husband's mistress GOT IN LINE BEHIND ME at Target when I ran out on my break for cold meds early in the week. Not on purpose, I don't think, because her body language was totally...off. She was avoiding eye contact and super stiff and got the hell out as fast as humanly possible. I was proud of myself because I managed not to pull her hair, punch her in the face, kick her in the shins, spit on her, or tell her exactly what I think of her. I'm better than that. But still, she took up WAY too much space in my head for the rest of the day
-got an email guilt trip from my MIL because she's had Collin the last several weekends, and he's "sad" because he "misses Zoey," and while she doesn't know how Jeff and I reached the decision that I would keep her, could we try to work something out so that Collin could see his dog. So inappropriate
+I waited a couple days and sent her a response I was pretty proud of: ( Collapse )She then replied: ( Collapse )Her response was sent less than 10 minutes after the message I sent her. You could have knocked me over with a feather. Really? She's sorry? Response made me wonder if, until I said so, she had no clue that a divorce is the last thing I want, that this is all Jeff. Doesn't matter, really, but it made me wonder
This morning, I had to unfriend one of the (VERY) few active Community Theatre of Howell facebook friends I had left. She survived the first couple post-separation flist purges because she's also the founder of my SAI family, which isn't a HUGE deal, but still, it was something we shared besides CTH. But...her status this morning referenced "lunch with Mindy S" and it just...hurt too much.
Everyone fucking loves her, and I get it. She's pretty fabulous, except, you know, for that whole homewrecking whore thing. She's someone I actually really wanted to get to know better before this whole mess unraveled. I was looking forward to maybe being in the same show or something. She's funny, she's creative, and aside from the adultery thing she's incredibly kind....So I get why everyone likes her so much.
And an awful lot of CTHers like Jeff, too. Me? I'm fucking nobody, nothing. I thought about contacting Melinda, the person I unfriended this morning, to ask her if maybe she could just block me from any posts referencing *her* and any pics in which *she* is tagged, but...waste of my time. She's good friends with one of the people going around calling me crazy 'cuz she LOVES my dearest husband and his mistress, and discrediting me keeps them safe. Don't want to stir the pot and get called crazy some more.
But goddammit, I didn't do anything WRONG!!!! Why am *I* the one getting called crazy? Why am *I* the one whose life is getting torn apart and turned upside down? Why am *I* the one having to make all these changes when I didn't fucking do anything?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?
Her husband messaged me AGAIN last night, wanting to know how *they* could be spending so much time together at my house if I was still living there. You know, so he could gauge how indiscrete they're being, so he could figure out how it'll affect his kids. Riiiiiiiight. I'm sure that's what he tells himself, but no.
I blocked him. I feel a little bad about it, because really, I have all the empathy in the world for the guy, and I sort of get the place he's in. He isn't trying to hurt me, I don't think he's probably trying to use me, but he is. He doesn't want a friend, he doesn't want someone who gets what he's going through to help him along. He wants some kind of...co-conspirator, an I'm not interested.
I know what they're doing and where. Nothing I do is going to change that. Nothing. It's new and illicit and therefor, exciting. They aren't going to stop because of anything anyone outside the relationship says or does. I get that. I don't think her husband does, and while I'm trying to focus my energy an attention elsewhere, he keeps dragging me back to the middle of it, I feel.
