phatDonna

This kid is trying to kill me with her big brain and is processing things way faster than I am ready for her to.

So tonight as I was putting her to bed, she asked me as always who was picking her up from school tomorrow. I told her that it would be Daddy. She got whiny about it saying she hadn’t been with me for very long, which is also normal. I told her that Daddy and I get to share time with her because we both love her so much.

The she said, “Well since you both love me so much, maybe you and Daddy should get married!”

blink blink blink

I said, “Well, Daddy and I used to be married but we aren’t anymore.”

This apparently blew her little mind, even though she knows from old photos that we all used to live together. It never dawned on me that she didn’t get that we had been married.

She said to me with wide eyes, “But when you get married you are just married forever.”

At this point in the conversation things started moving in slow motion for me. All I could hear in my head was “Don’t fuck this up. Don’t fuck this up. Don’t fuck this up.” How do I explain this to her? How can I tell her about the concept of divorce without planting a seed in her head that Daddy and GF might not be married forever (which I absolutely do NOT want to do)?

Then she reached up and tickled me and told me that I should get married so she can have a Step DaDa.

Thank you, dog, for that exit from the conversation. I swear sometimes that kid can read my mind. Maybe she could tell that I was not ready for this conversation and was letting me out of it easily. I have a rule that I will NEVER lie to her so I try to be honest with her about everything, but sometimes it’s a struggle to be honest and also keep things on the right level for her maturity. I also want to use the “you’re too young to understand right now” answer sparingly. Something tells me if she had pushed me on the topic, I would have had to pull it out tonight.

I swear, if a glass of wine weren’t four Weight Watchers points, I’d be drinking one right now.

Today on the way to school, Bridget asked me if I had a boyfriend.

We’re both lucky I didn’t crash the car, such was my shock at this question.

I asked her if she thought I did and she said yes. When I asked her why she thought that, she said that we had dinner with “that man who had the Barbie game on his phone.” She was talking about my friend J, with whom she and I had dinner back in November. I explained to her that, no, he’s just an old friend of mine and that he is married with a little girl at home. Then I died a little because I never thought to explain to her that she wasn’t meeting a possible stepfather that night. But it’s nice to know that she likes him enough to approve of that scenario.

The conversation then turned to the fact that she is going to have a stepmother soon and how she wishes I would get married so she can have a “step-DADA.” I tried to get her to explain to me why she wants one of those, and the best she could come up with was that she liked having other people around. So basically she’s not so much a fan of me and The EX and wants other people around to amuse her.

I explained to her that maybe one day we’d find somebody super special like GF that we would want to be with, but it couldn’t just be anybody. She accepted that and then asked if she could listen to The Lion King soundtrack.  Then I threw up in  my mouth a little.

Again, I don’t want to say never, but I really can’t see the appeal of getting married again. And certainly I’m not going to be pressured into it by a five year old. But wow. I never thought she even gave any of this any thought at all, but this is the second time she’s brought this up. I feel like my answer is sufficient and it’s all I’ll probably ever give her on that topic.

I’m still gobsmacked. Dating pressure from my five year old daughter.

Another topic we covered was that boys could have boyfriends and girls could have girlfriends. She said, “They CAN?” and I said, “Yes of course. Boys can even marry boys and girls can marry girls.” (I didn’t want to go into legality and civil unions. She’s only FIVE.)  And she said, “That’s good.” Hopefully that lesson will stick with her and she’ll always feel that way about it.

Earlier this year I made a promise to myself to try to make a life here in Austin rather than running away out of town to escape my boredom. When I moved here in 2009 I had four really good friends (two couples) and while I ADORE them, they do have lives that don’t revolve around me. And just because I am bored and free on a Saturday doesn’t mean they are. I needed more friends.

I’m proud to say that I have done it. Through the magic of Twitter, I’ve met some really amazing women whom I adore. And the mother of a former classmate of Bridget has become a friend. It’s kind of hard to make friends when the context in which you know each other is school and parenting. Women can be so judgmental of other moms and sometimes just downright fucking mean. So just because Bridget really liked Sally (not her real name), there was no guarantee that the moms would do more than tolerate each other for the sake of the kids. But this friend and I click. She’s awesome. Plus Sally is one of the handful of Bridget’s friends that I actually love. I’m actually wondering if a sleepover might be in their immediate future.

All that sap is just to report that I am actually making a life here and I’m really happy about it.

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This thought occurred to me and then strangely I was just watching the Louis CK show Live at the Beacon Theater (if you are at all a fan and have a sick mind like me, please do go pay the $5 to download or stream this show – you won’t be sorry) and he made mention of the same thing. Weird. Anyway, the thought is this:

Bridget is now at an age that I remember being. I clearly remember being five. In some ways that makes the parenting thing a bit easier, because she’s more relatable now. On the other hand, all I can think now is, “I better not screw this up, because this is the shit she’ll be talking about in therapy in twenty years.”

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I had the BEST time last night. There is a U2 tribute band from Austin and they play pretty regularly at my favorite bar. Last night I went with Sally’s Mom (see above) (also I have no idea if she cares if I use her real name but I won’t for now just to be safe) (how many parentheses is it ok to have in one sentence?) (is this too many?) (yes?) (ok, I’ll stop) for my third time.

Listen, they are tribute band. They are not U2. But they do a great job and put on a fun show and every time I’ve been to see them, I’ve met amazing people. Last night, we shared a table with two really nice guys – there was no flirting or monkey business they were just nice fun guys. One was Australian and he answered a question for me that I’ve had forever about Australia. Then we discovered it was his birthday so we did Irish Car Bombs to celebrate. Although Sally’s Mom was responsible and didn’t drink hers because she was driving. I thank her heartily for that because I was obviously working hard to get my liver in shape for Vegas in two weeks.

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I have bought Bridget a Christmas present that I’m not sure I should give her. I won’t really go into what it is, but it’s kind of expensive and although I know she’ll love it, I wonder if she’ll care for it properly. It’s expensive enough that if she destroys it, I will be mad. I’ll be giving her her presents from me the day before she goes over to The Ex’s for Christmas, and I know she’ll want to take it there, which is fine. I totally trust him to help her take care of it. Plus she has had an iPod Touch for a year now and other than one incident where it was lost for a few days when she shoved it in the pile of giveaway clothes, she has cared for it remarkably well. But the control freak in me wants to wrap it in bubble wrap and make her wash her hands before she touches it. I need to get over this. (See above re: her remembering things and me not fucking up.)

You know, after I posted that last post about how motherhood has changed me down to my DNA, I started thinking about whether that was true. And I guess in most ways it has because everything I do is premeditated through the filter of “Could this affect Bridget? If so, how?”

And yet I strive to maintain some of my own identity. I don’t think it sets a good example for her if she thinks that my sole purpose in life is to tend to her needs. If she ever decides to become a mother one day, I don’t want her trying to live up to some June Cleaver impossible standard. She needs to know NOW that I do have other things in my life besides her and that they are important to me, but never more important to me than her. Because if she ever wants to become a parent, I want her to know that she has a right to be her own person, too.  I think I do a pretty good job of that.

But one thing I just can never shed of myself is my completely twisted sense of humor. I know I’m dark and inappropriate. I am almost impossible to offend with humor. Given the right audience and context, I don’t think there is any topic that can’t be made fun of. And I honestly have no idea how to deal with this in relation to Bridget. I certainly can’t laugh at pedophile jokes around her now (but I do know one that’s really funny) and I don’t know that I would ever pinpoint an age when I could do that.

So for now I snicker quietly to myself as my twisted brain comes up with sick sexual jokes during her kid shows, and when she asks why I’m laughing, I just tell her I got a funny email.

Where do you fall on Nature vs. Nurture when it comes to humor? Was I born this way? Or did I learn it from my parents dad?

This picture was taken just about five years ago to the day:

This was the weekend before Bridget was born and we were clowning around, experimenting with finding items that could and could not be balanced on my giant pregnant belly. This was me before my DNA was completely reorganized and I morphed into being a mother, something I will be for the rest of my life. I can never go back to being the person I was in this picture.

I remember getting a card at one of my baby showers with this quote in it:

Making the decision to have a child – It’s momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.

It’s a bit cheesy, I’ll admit, but it’s true in a way that girl up there never could have imagined.

I don’t know why exactly but I’m getting kind of sad about the fact that Bridget is about to be five. Five seems so big. Five is school aged. Five is halfway to TEN. Oy.

So pardon me this week as I muddle through this week preparing for my baby girl to be five. I’m sure I’ll be back to saying inappropriate things very soon.

Today I dragged Bridget into the Christmas store in Downtown Disney so that I could procure one particular item for her Christmas enjoyment – an Advent calendar. I wanted one that was re-usable and did not include candy.

I don’t think it comes as any surprise to you all by now that I love Christmas. From the day after Thanksgiving until December 24, I am the happiest I am all year.

But being divorced with a kid makes things strange to say the least. This will be the first year that I won’t see Bridget on Christmas. Perhaps not even on Christmas Eve, depending on how The EX and I work this out. I won’t get to do Santa with her. I won’t get to leave out the cookies and milk with her. And yet I still have to do all the things that normally get me giddy about Christmas. I still have to put up a tree, decorate the house, shop for and wrap presents. I even have to do some baking because Bridget loves to help me do that.

Being in that store today, hearing the music, inhaling the scents, just made me sad.

I have no idea what I’m going to do for Christmast this year but I am fairly sure that it won’t be going to Dallas to see my family without Bridget. I just don’t think I can handle it, a family Christmas thing without her there. I don’t want to see my niece and nephew basking in the Christmas glow if Bridget isn’t there to bask in it, too. I suppose that makes me petty or selfish because I know my family would want me to be with them. I just don’t know. I’m not sure which would feel worse – waking up in the midst of a family Christmas without Bridget, or being home alone with no celebrations at all.

Maybe I should just go somewhere completely unrelated to Christmas. Maybe I should go sit on a beach in Mexico or something.

Maybe I should stay the hell out of Christmas stores when I’ve been off my meds for four days.

“We’ll begin with the airing of grievances.” (One of my favorite TV lines of all time.)

I’m in the midst of a Disney vacation with Bridget, for those of you who haven’t yet seen my zillion FourSquare check ins and multiple Facebook updates and hadn’t already caught wise to that fact.

Y’all, it’s hard. It’s not been my favorite Disney trip ever.

First of all, I am a dumbass. I spent 15 minutes on Saturday night counting out all my pills for the five nights we’d be here, putting them in a smaller, more manageable container. Then I left it sitting on the kitchen counter. That means that oh, maybe tomorrow, my brain is really going to start feeling the effects of no anti-depressant and will start to give me the weird little jolts every now and then. My temper will be short. I may cry at the drop of a hat. Fun for me! And fun for Bridget.

Bridget is very excited about this trip, but I’m just going to come out and say it. She’s being a little bit bratty. But she’s five. It’s her job to push her limits, to see how far she can push me before I push back. It doesn’t help that she is SO! EXCITED! ABOUT! EVERYTHING! and has bundles of energy, coupled with the constant stimulation. It’s all normal, but it’s hard to deal with alone.

The past two trips I’ve had Mrs. Irritation and her family with me. That meant two adults to talk to at dinner and while we pushed strollers through the parks, plus another teacup human for Bridget to gab to all the livelong day. Today as I was pushing the stroller through the World Showcase at Epcot, I actually thought to myself, “I’m bored.” That is the one thing that you are not supposed to feel at Disney, I’m pretty sure.

I’m also not thrilled with my travel planning this time. I got a really great deal on a hotel/airfare package staying off Disney property, something I have never done before. It seemed like a good deal at the time. It’s not. First of all, not staying on property means no Magical Express from the airport to the hotel. I had to rent a car because Bridget needs a carseat and we can’t just take a taxi. Add $200. Not staying on property also means that I can’t purchase the meal plan (or get it for free, like they sometimes do this time of year) so tack on meals at about 30% more than you’d pay on the meal plan. So far I’ve driven to one park and had to pay $14 to park the car. Ouch. And you all do not even want to know how much I paid for 4 days of park hopper tickets for one adult and one child. I’m fairly sure when you book a package, you get a discount on your park tickets. Or at least you don’t notice how much it costs because you’re already paying so much. Financially I haven’t come out ahead on this deal.

And when you consider that had I stayed on Disney property, the transportation situation, both airport and between parks and the hotel, all would have been better, I’d be staying in a nice hotel. Now, I know that some of you out there think I am a princess. And maybe I am, if that means that I want to stay in a hotel that has all its furnishings in working order and feels clean. This place does not meet those criteria. The shower drips. The wi-fi didn’t work until today. The tub stopper doesn’t work so I can’t give Bridget a bath – she has to take a shower, which she hates. But honestly even if the tub worked, I would not feel comfortable letting her sit in that bathtub. The air conditioner in our room runs constantly and it’s still damp in here all the time. It’s a million small things wrong here. But, it was cheap. The one good thing I will say about this hotel is that the staff is so friendly and helpful.

Did I mention that the last person who drove my rental car was a man who obviously wore a lot of cologne and the scent is imbedded in the seat belt, so when I wear the seat belt, it rubs off on me, making it so that’s all I can smell for the rest of the day? Yeah, that’s fun.

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Even with all that annoying stuff, and wishing I was at the Polynesian right now, I’m so happy to be here with Bridget, making these memories together. She has no idea that our hotel sucks or that I want to gag in the rental car. She is just thrilled and I love to see the look on her face every morning when she wakes up and remembers where she is and what we are doing that day. Bratty as she can be, she does appreciate this trip. I can tell by the way she launches herself at me several times each day and says, “I love you, Mommy!” And even if I don’t have one of my BFFs here with me all the time, I got the chance to spend time with my oldest friend in the world today, and tomorrow I get to meet up with another friend for lunch with Tigger and Pooh.

But next time, and there will be a next time, I will go back to staying on property. Missing out on all the Disney touches is kind of sad. Who wants to go with us next year?

OK y’all, I’m sorry. I’m going to vent for a minute here. Need I give you the mommy preface again? OK, fine, here it is. I love Bridget more than life itself. I’d lay down my life for her. We all know that, right? BUT….

Lately she’s been such a shit head and I just don’t know why. She’s whiny. She’s got a terrible teenager attitude. She’s not sleeping very well (and as a result has been coming into my bed interrupting my sleep) and her eating is so weird. She does not listen to one cotton-pickin’ word I say.

I feel like all I do is yell at her, punish her, or threaten to punish her. We don’t have fun together and she spends a lot of time crying because of the punishing and/or yelling.

I know that by not disciplining her for bad behavior, I’d be failing her. I’m just so damn tired of being the bad guy. The EX keeps telling me how wonderfully behaved she is at his house. Either he’s lying about that to make me feel like shit, or he has a different idea of wonderfully behaved than I do, or she just hates me.

When The EX and I split, I vowed that she would not turn out to be one of those asshole kids of divorced parents, the ones whose parents feel so guilty about getting divorced that they don’t discipline at all. Sometimes I wonder if I just expect too much from her, if I’m so worried about letting her get away with too much that I don’t let her get away with anything.

Deep down I’m just worried about what all this behavior means.

Is she just destined to be an asshole her whole life?

Does she have a behavioral problem, like ADHD?

Am I just inherently a bad mom who can’t control her kid?

There are so many possible reasons for the way she acts, including that this is just normal four year old behavior that she will outgrow. I just want to go back to enjoying being around my daughter.

I know you all think I am a horrible fascist mom who never takes her kid to the pool that is mere steps from my front door. Some of you even lament your lack of a pool to take your spawn for relief from the heat. But I HATE taking Bridget to the pool. HATE. IT. For many reasons.

1. The amount of preparation that is involved in getting me and her ready for the pool is staggering. There is hair removal to be done (mine), sunscreen to be applied (both of us), pool toys and snacks and drinks to be gathered, and then squeezing into swim suits. This takes a good 30 to 45 minutes.

2. I have the world’s most persnickety vagina. It does not like a swimming pool that has been overly chlorinated. One day at the pool with Bridget can be a very bad thing indeed for me for days, or even weeks.

3. Being in the pool with a four year old who cannot swim is NOT FUN for the adult. It’s not relaxing or enjoyable to be on constant vigil and constantly reminding her of the rules for the pool. There is no lounging in a chair reading a book or floating around on an inflatable raft with a drink in my hand. It’s splash fights, playing Barbies in the pool, trying to cajole her into learning to swim without her floatie.

4. When it’s this hot, the pool water can often feel as warm as bath water. Disgusting.

5. For some reason, the pool does not wear Bridget out like you would expect. I have spent 2 hours in the pool with this child, hoping she’s be falling asleep in her dinner by the time we got home, only to end up with a Tasmanian devil bred with a tornado when we got home.

6. It kills the whole day. If we go in the morning, which we are about to do, we spend time in the water, then I fight to get her out which she bitches, moans and cries about. I drag her home, try to get us both dried, dressed and ready for any other errand or thing we have to do that day. An hour or so in the pool can easily eat up 3 hours of the day. And I’m the one who ends up wiped out and in need of a nap.

So yes, in theory the pool is a fun thing. In practice, for me at least, it’s a misery. I do it, because she loves it. But I won’t like it.

I just joined a single parents’ Meetup group. I’m simultaneously nauseous and excited about this.

Nauseous because I have this feeling that it’s probably one reasonably attractive single dad and a gaggle of desperate women trying to hook up with him while he is either endearingly oblivious to this, or using the group to add notches to his bedpost. I have a vague memory of a friend growing up whose parents were divorced. Her mom belonged to a single parents’ group of some sort, and I remember there being one smarmy man around the house after another. So now when I think of single parents’ groups I just think “pathetic desperate people trying to hook up with each other.” Which is not fair at all because the same could also be said for any online dating site.

I’m excited about it because I want to meet other single moms. I need to create a life for myself here in Austin, as I’ve mentioned before. And I love my friends that live here, but my life is just so different from theirs, and my weekend and free time is different from theirs. It would be good to have a friend in the same boat as I’m in, who is also kid-free when I am kid-free. I need something that doesn’t make my weekend time, the time when I’m without Bridget, stretch out depressingly before me.

Who knows how it will go?  The first event I’ll be attending is a meetup at a local pizza place with kids’ play area. It sounds nightmarish but I have to start somewhere.