Identity and unconditional love – part 1

I have a bit of glamour to report.  I attended my friend’s film premiere (barely squeezing into my old standby glamour pants) at the Vancouver Film Festival Thursday night and later on went to the after party.  Someone actually asked to film my opinion on the movie, Becoming R.edwood and (it’s FABULOUS by the way) and I was giddy at the prospect of being asked my opinion about anything.  It was a flashback to my old days networking at film parties.  ( FYI – networking at film parties is tedious at best and best performed with a slight buzz.)  The after party was great, I knew lots of people and my friend was gracious and happy I was there.  I met new people and had a great time.  Unfortunately, hubby did not make it out as he dislikes that sort of thing and opted to save babysitting fees.  I was disappointed at first, but having been at events where he’d rather not be, I was better off anyway.  I also hate having to explain to people where he was (which I had to do constantly), but I’d rather be there on my own supporting my friends.    My friend has the most wonderful trait that she never ever abandons me when we’re at an event.  She’s the best.  I came home late, but grateful that I had such a nice time.

Friday morning came early though.  Really early.  The rains have returned and it’s overcast.   Thank goodness for coffee.  I’d like to report a no peeing on the carpet day!  When the Precious gets up  really early sometimes that can work in my favour later on.  I didn’t have anything special planned, but I wanted to go to Safeway to get some things – honestly, just for the airmiles, –  it was 100 airmiles day. That’s what passes for excitement these days. The kid was motivated because we were out of milk and the Boo likes his milk.  I told the Precious that mama needed his help and that after we had eggs (that he gleefully broke on the side of the bowl) that we’d go and then when we got back, we’d watch a movie.  I laid out his day for him.   He did really well and I gave him the very important job of picking out a pumpkin and holding the hotdogs.  At one point he demanded to go home when I stopped to peruse the deodorant aisle, but lucky for me some random guy came by to do the same thing and Boo thought he was fascinating to watch.  I asked for his input  all the time and he was very glad to help me out. He fell asleep in the car on the way home (okay, so I drove around a little) but I got to read a free newspaper and have a break and then I managed to finish unloading the car. And when I brought him inside, instead of putting him in his room, I put him on the sofa and though I thought he’d wake up,  he just snuggled in and went back to sleep.  At that point, hubby had arrived home and we actually managed to have an non interrupted exchange before he took the dog out for a walk.  When Boo woke up, I handed him his milk and while he was still sleepy, I picked him up and took his straight to the potty and sat and talked with him to make sure he really had a good pee.  No saving up pee to surprise mummy later on.  No, no.  We snuggled on the couch and watched Disney’s The Wild, which is his current favourite movie, with popcorn and we chatted about about what was going on  in the movie and if I left him, made sure he was okay.  He put popcorn in my hand whenever I needed it.  When he started running around and fell, I picked him up and bounced him in my lap.  He wasn’t really crying if you know what I mean, just making noise, but I didn’t shush him, just let him be and then redirected his attention. I just stayed close (okay, I glanced at my smartphone every now and then) and by the time, daddy got home with dinner, I realized we had had a pretty nice day.  Even though when dad comes home, it’s becomes all about daddy, he still wants me close.  Don’t we all want unconditional love? I hear you, Boo.

 

Toddler vs. mid life crisis

I’m participating in a play reading this Sunday at a very nice Caribbean restaurant that also doubles as a performance place.  I’m really happy to be a part of it, since all that I have to do is commit to it and show up with no responsibility for running the company.  It’s about all I can do these days. We’re doing Joe Turner’s Come and Gone by August Wilson.  Fantastic play and it’s great to be a part of it.  I haven’t much time to work on it because these days my son won’t leave me alone.  And I mean that literally.

I’ve  been struggling with my son’s behaviour – or rather my reaction to his oppositional behaviour lately.  I feel really responsible for it because of my depression and all the tension.  He’s been dropping his afternoon naps lately, which results in hyper/whiny behaviour in the late afternoon which totally gets on my last nerve. And now he’s starting to pee on the carpet whenever I leave him alone (like go in the other room).  Same spot every time, and usually after I’ve just told him “NO”  or barked at him for some reason or another.  He only does this with me and it’s usually when he hasn’t had a nap but since that is becoming the norm, then what do I do? Sometimes if we’re out, he will fall asleep in the car, and then I just park outside my house with a cup of tea or coffee and have something to read for a while.  I used to take him into his room but these days that only wakes him up screaming and crying to be out of his room.  And then it’s downhill from there.

I crave separateness at the precise moment where he literally starts crawling on me.  I’ve literally been chased all around the house.   The more people want of me, the more I withdraw.  My whole life has been about connection and yet now all I crave is to be left alone.  And then it hits me, how when I used to hit a wall, I could dig deeper and find compassion and patience.  I’ve been neglecting my Buddhist practise.  Just a symptom of all the things I’ve let slide lately.  I have withdrawn emotionally from those who are close to me, shutting down and only reacting.   The therapy is really helping me talk things out and I’m beginning to find my fighting spirit again.  Unfortunately, my money tree is bare so I told the therapist I’d have to call her when I get some more money again.  Friggin’ hell.  Just when i find someone really good but she doesn’t have the right initials after her name for the insurance company to cover it.

I now realize that my withdrawing, short fuse and general crabbiness  (hey, most working people get some sort of lunch break) has caused my child  to act up and run eagerly to push all of my buttons in that intuitive 2 3/4 yr old way.  Instead of really providing my undivided attention, I practically run the other way because I’m exhausted by the afternoon.   Even when I try to sneak to the other room to catch a bit of my soap, he runs in and turns the TV off because he wants me to watch HIS shows on HIS TV with him. It’s no wonder I was starting to feel like a hostage.  (And then DH walks in and wants to know what’s for dinner.)  Picture me turning on the TV with my remote and him hitting the power button with his tiny finger – again and again and again.  Even my beloved naughty chair technique which was working like a charm before, was not working so well as I was using it far too much.

We would both benefit with a schedule on the days we don’t have anything scheduled.  I need to find him active things to do, arrange play dates or something else that we can both enjoy.  I’ve find it so far challenging to arrange play dates when you are dealing with other people’s schedules/nannies/ neighbourhoods.  So instead of enduring his demands for this or that video, or clinginess, I am watching for signs of fatigue or hunger more diligently( cues for incessant whining and crying)  and finding ways to run off his ample energy,  utilizing interactive play or even enlisting him in helping mummy with chores.  True, is it not a particularly  effective means to cleaning, cooking or whatnot, but as someone very wise pointed out to me, it’s those simple moments that can bring joy and make good memories.  We even made chocolate chip cookies.  And Boo doesn’t particularly like chocolate chip cookies, but he had fun cracking eggs and spooning out the batter.  I think I even managed to like it.

I had to point out to DH that the reason I didn’t register him for any fall classes was because of all the talk of moving.  I had no idea where we were going or when.  So it looks like that is going to be put off a while.  Cause of my delicate condition so to speak.

And we’re also planning on going away for our anniversary next month.  But that’s a whole other post.

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My dining room floor

I had no idea when I chose the name A Woman My Age that it would continue to be so appropriate.  I chose it because that’s the phrase I kept hearing over and over when I was trying to conceive.  It’s also a little play on the words “advanced maternal age”.  And now at this point in my life when I’m in a MLC (mid life crisis) and dealing with PM (perimenopause), there’s a lot of WTF going on here.  So you will see a lot of password protected posts because I’m aware that stuff is so painful and so personal that I can’t let it flap TOTALLY in the internet wind.

I washed the dining room floor the other day with a special wooden floor cleaner.  Why is this significant?  I had mentioned that maybe we needed a special cleaner cause the floor looked so dull and of course, hubby said why bother we’re only renting and we’ll be moving soon and that just stuck in my head.  I started to fixate on the dull wooden floor.  DH had taken the Precious and the dog out, so I instead of doing nothing,  I straightened up a little.  Then I looked at the floor and thought, let’s try that V.im cleaner that I bought  surreptitiously the other day.  Mmmm, well, it was a little cleaner but it didn’t really improve the dullness.  By that time, hubby was home and was surprised that I had spent the time washing the floor.  I noticed the dog hair stuck to the legs of the chairs and though I had swept up the hair moments before, when I replaced the chairs, the hair was back again.  The chairs need replacing.  The seats sag.  I got a big residual check the other day and opted to get my weave redone instead of buying a dining set.  Vanity wins every time.  If you are a black woman and reading this, this will make perfect sense to you. If you saw my head, you would have taken pity on me.

Anyways, my point is the floor.  It’s been bugging me for weeks.  Months even.  It just seemed like such a pointless task that I never attempted it.  It’s a metaphor for my life really.  Needing to be thoroughly cleaned, maybe even restripped and refinished.  Me avoiding doing it, DH saying why bother,  but knowing in my heart that the effort needs to be made.  I didn’t enjoy doing it, but I enjoyed making the attempt.  I know this sounds completely goofy,  but it mattered to me somehow.  I had the time and space to do it.  I had vacuumed, swiffered it and still there was more dirt.  More stickiness.