There isn’t any place sadder or quieter than Grammy’s house after Emmy leaves.
As I am sure you could tell from yesterday’s rant, I am still carrying a lot of baggage about my failed marriage. I think what has bothered me most over the years is that I thought it was my fault. That he had an affair with a woman 10 years my junior because of something I was, or was not, doing. My granddaughter coming east and being the center of a visit struggle just brought up all kinds of anger.
This morning I was vacuuming and having a conversation with him in my head. Come on, admit it, I am not the only one that does that! Anyway, through this very one-sided conversation, I came to the realization that it wasn’t my issue. In fact, I remembered that he cheated on the woman he left me for. Hum, seems like a pattern. He lost his job because he fooled around with a married woman. Seems like he has the problem not me.
It is time for me to let all that anger and hatred go. He wasn’t the person I thought he was and he definitely isn’t someone I would be friends with now. AND, he is a rotten father. I don’t know why I feel threatened by him any more. As the Frozen song goes….”let it go, let it go!” (I’ve listened to that song often this week, it has also become our potty training anthem.)
I saw this on Facebook this morning, and as much as I hate to quote anything from Facebook, it struck a chord:
“If you don’t leave your past in the past, it will destroy your future. Live for what today has to offer and not what yesterday has taken away.”
I need to make a poster of that and put it in my bathroom. I have many things that I need to let go. One at a time, one at a time…….mvb
My daughter in law and only granddaughter are on the east coast for the first time since the baby was born. I have only seen her twice and when you are under three, how much can you remember. BUT we have been having a blast. I was blown away when she came running into my arms when we first saw each other. How could she know me? How could she love me unconditionally? It is like having my baby again, but in pink this time. It was instant love, an instant bond. I always thought my mom was nuts at how crazy she was about my eldest son. I get it now. This child, I could eat her up and play with her all day. Unfortunately, the visit will be over Sunday. Back to Texas they go.
I got a distressed call from my daughter in law this morning. They are still dropping my granddaughter off with me on their way to meet up with my eldest son, but now my ex husband is putting the screws to them about not getting to see the baby. As a side note, both boys have birthdays in March and ex has not sent birthday wishes in years. Anyway after I got off of the phone with daughter in law, I went out to clean stalls. As I was shoveling the sh__, I started a slow burn that ignited into a roaring fire. (Appropriate that I was messing with poop huh?). So instead of call my boys and talking inappropriate smack about their dad, I have decided to write him a letter. Here, in my blog.
Dear Ex Ass,
This past year has been one of the best years I have had in the past 25, because I have not had to interact with you once. However, I cannot keep my thoughts to myself any longer. You should know, that when our boys were young I never bashed you, I never pointed out what a creepy person you are, how you had affair after affair, or how immature you acted. Not once. Now they are grown men, and my gloves are coming off.
How dare you guilt my son into including you in his life, in his daughter’s life. You notice I say my son. I can do that because in spite of the fact that you lived not 5 miles away, you were only available to those two wonderful boys every other weekend as outlined in the legal document that ended our ill fated liaison. That is particularly true of my youngest son. You were not a father to that boy, you were not there for him. You refused to take him to football practice and dances and Indian Guides. Other men in his life were more of a father than you were. His Uncle was his Indian Guide pal and his step father taught him to play the drums and took him regularly to lessons.
So I want to know what makes you think you deserve to be a part of his adult life.Or his older brother’s life for that matter. You sure do pound your chest with pride now. It makes you look good. Yes they are two boys that you should be very proud of, but you should also know that you had nothing to do with the men they have become. They tried so hard to have a relationship with you. A real relationship. But all they get from you is beer and chit chat. You were NEVER the person they turned to, or turn to now, when they need help or advise. You know who they call, they call their step father. The man that was there for them for the past twelve years. He didn’t take you place because you never carved a place for them in your life.
Do you realize your boys say that they were your trial family. And as unbelievable as it is, they do not resent your daughter or the time you spend with your girlfriend’s children. I believe they know they are better off without your input in their life. You, the man that does not even acknowledge their birthdays year after year. You have no claim to their attention or respect. They call you and see you because they are good and honorable men. but in reality, you don’t deserve it.
Whew! Sorry for the rant, but do I feel better.
March is a very special month for me. My dad was born, and passed away, in March. But more significantly, both of my sons were born in March. My youngest was born today, 27 years ago. He was my little leprechaun. My happy blond haired, blue eyed munchkin. Who in fact is half Irish.
I adore my boys. I think every mother has a special relationship with their sons. My eldest son has a birthday ten days from now. So I’ll probably discuss him later in the month. But my baby, well the youngest holds a special spot. And interestingly enough, it is a very different relationship than I have with his brother.
Baby boy was born towards the end of my marriage. He was NOT a last ditch effort to save a failing relationship. As a matter of fact, I didn’t realize I had a failing relationship. Maybe that was part of the problem. If I did, I probably would have been more careful. No, I was keeping to the two child schedule we had discussed. Baby boy came right on time. Almost exactly four year (minus 10 days) younger than his brother. I was beyond happy when he came to me. He was a bundle of blond chubbiness. And he stole my heart right away.
From the very beginning, he only wanted me. My older son was the light of the family. My husband was the proudest father that ever walked the earth and my parents. Oh my parents thought he was the Messiah. He was the first boy and the first grandchild in the family. So baby boy had a little competition. But he didn’t care, he had mom. Unfortunately his happy life was interrupted by my unhappy marriage.
I was trying to decide if working was worth all the day care expense we were paying. It was then that I realized that we could make it on one salary. Hubby and I were making about the same at the time. Hum, I really could live on my salary, even with all the day care. About the same time, I noticed that hubs was gone an awful lot and there were really strange things happening. There would be phone calls that would disconnect when I answered, hubs would be at work, but not available when I tried to reach him. And then my car got keyed when I was at work. Separately they didn’t seem like much but when I realized that they may be related, it dawned on me that he was having an affair.
When we broke up baby boy was not yet three. There I was with two young children, a full time job, and a home to care for. But I didn’t have financial issues and I did have a family that supported me once they got over their initial shock. Baby boy didn’t want to go spend time at my parents. He got very clingy but in retrospect, it was the best for both of us. He got my attention, and I got him all to myself. He didn’t get much from his dad. Ex-hubby lived in the same city but was not much of a father figure. He remarried and never put his boys first.
I didn’t have the luxury to mourn my failed relationship, I had my babies to take care of and our lives to move forward. It was hard. It was damn hard. But now at 27 and 30, my boys are wonderful men. They have a great respect for women and an appreciation for how hard being a good parent is. I put my children first. They didn’t ask to only have one parent and they sure didn’t deserve to suffer because their dad and I didn’t get along. I had a very successful career, but it is my children that I am most proud of. Baby boy is now a Sargent in the Army. He has a family of his own and will call me for parenting advise. I love how I can now see a continuance of my grandparents, parents and me as it transfers to my boys and their children. mvb
My husband had a dinner meeting tonight. What to do, what to eat? I could go the fast food route, but since I am trying to lose weight, I should pass on that. I know, I will eat something that he does not like; flat iron steak and french fries. Ummm.
My mother used to make this meal on Saturday evenings, but she called the meat minute steak. She would fry up peppers and onions and sometimes put the steak on a roll and call it a hoagie. Since my parents were from Philadelphia, they used a few different terms. A hoagie is the Philly equivalent to a sub. No matter what you call it, very tasty indeed. Mom had several go to meals that have become my favorite things to eat. There is this steak and fries, then there is burger (no bun) and mash potatoes; and my all time favorite was, and still is, buttered spaghetti. The spaghetti without her sauce was a meal we saved for the running of the Kentucky Derby. Not sure why, but who cares, it is good.
Of course, I have modified most of her flavor profiles, but these three meals remain untouched. I eat them when I am alone and they still take me back to my childhood. I think being Jewish has embedded the food gene in my brain. My husband does not appreciate the flavor of the flat iron steak, cooked in an iron frying pan. And, the simplicity of plain spaghetti is just lost on him. He wants sauce! He eats southern country with a little Jewish influence.
There is one person that shares my connection between food and memories. My youngest son. Without exception, he still clings to these meals that I made for my sons. As a single mom you go with what you know and what can be made quickly. He tells me that my three year old granddaughter appreciates our favorite food as well. I have had to share my secrets with my daughter in-law so the traditions can continue. I find it funny that I have passed along egg in a hole ,steak and fries and chicken patties and applesauce instead of chicken soup and latkes.
As I sat alone tonight relishing my steak and fries, my thoughts went to my mom and it made me smile. And then my thoughts turned a little sad as I realized I was sitting and eating alone. My children are grown and have moved on. My grand daughter is coming to spend the weekend with me. We haven’t spent much time together since she lives on the other side of the country, but I plan to cook her some memories. Life goes on. You can hold on to your memories and review them with fondness, but you need to make new ones for the future.
I love routines. My favorite time of day is my morning. I have a great routine. One that started taking shape second we bought the farm. It allows me to greet the day with calming thoughts and silence. This is how it goes…
I get up before the sun. Mostly because my husband doesn’t hear the dogs wake up. They are getting old and seem to have to go to the bathroom earlier every year. That’s ok, it gets me out of bed for the best time of the day. So, I get up with the dogs. Holly, my female English Setter ( the one with all the spots) is such a sweet dog. We rescued her about 4 years ago. She is older than we thought and evidently had been hit by a car. She has a hitch in her kiddy up but that doesn’t keep her down except when it is achy. She gives me a sweet lick on the cheek every morning when I bend down to give her a good morning pat. Toby, the perfect gentlemen, lets her go out first. Then they both come in an sit in the sun porch for their morning biscuit and breakfast. I have my coffee in my favorite rocking chair while the sun comes up. My view is the field on the side of the house. It is a great place to just be. This picture of the dogs in the sun porch is before we had it redone. We got rid of the orange shag carpet and put down a floor that looks like a porch floor. We also painted the walls a sunny yellow and trimmed it all in white. Love that room! We don’t have much furniture. It is still a work in progress, but I do have a favorite place to sit. It is a rocking chair that a friend of ours gave me when her husband passed away and she needed to move. It is really different
As you can probably tell, it is blocks of wood held together with a rope. One continuous piece of rope thread through the blocks. We this morning, my routine was interrupted when my behind sat down and went right through the seat. Ugh! The rope snapped at one of the bends. Now we need to figure out a way to restring the entire chair. It will definite be a labor of love because without this chair, I won’t be able to start my day looking at this fabulous view.mvb