Let's talk about Ex, Baby

I have been dreading today for a while now. Why would I be dreading a beautiful Spring Saturday, is what most would probably ask. Well, today I had to take Shortpants to meet his dad for a day-long visit. When I found out they were for sure going to be here, I looked a lot like this guy:

You have cat to be kitten me right meow.

Ex is married. I like her a lot more than I tolerate him. You see, our marriage ended less than smoothly, and while I will be civil - wait, I'm actually quite nice, I'm still angry. And hurt. And all ragey against the machiney sometimes. But his wife has shown me that she is level-headed, and I think we have connected as moms. 

I'm pretty certain this guy nailed how I look most times I think about Shorty's dad. I'M TRYING. Honest.

And when I get mad? I cry. Like a little bitch. AND IT MAKES ME MORE MAD AND THEN I CRY MORE. It really is a vicious cycle. And when I cry do I look like every other normal woman on the planet? Oh hellz naw - I uuuuuuuuuuuugly cry. 

If you took this face:

And put it on this face:

WOW, right?

Plus some red-rimmed eyes and some rivulets of mascara (that is SUPPOSED to be waterproof - thank you SO much, brand name withheld!), that's my ugly cry face.

Aren't you glad you know now? So you can avoid at all costs? Hey, at least I don't snot all over the place. You're welcome.

Oh. I digressed. A scosh. My bad.

Back to today - I had planned a day with one of my oldest friends; some yoga, some coffee, some lunch, some Marshall-ing (Love me some Marshalls deals. I didn't get paid to say that, but I'd sure like some free stuff... *cough*). We also watched Empire Records. HAPPY REX MANNING DAY! (And they say I don't have ADHD. Puh-leeze.)

I tried my best to keep my mind off Shortpants and my mind on fun, and I really did have a good day. And so did he. Even though he was up since 3 last night, napped for maybe 30 minutes in the car, didn't want to get out of the swings (I told him so! *oh no she didunt - YES I JUST DID) - the day went pretty darned well. 

Oh, alright. Time to fess up. See, Shortpants hasn't seen his dad for more than 30 minutes since Thanksgiving 2012, thanks to the Army and (what I like to call) choice. Meaning, he had opportunities to visit and didn't. Water under the bridge. (Or I'll drive myself certifiably loony.) Also meaning - he hasn't had Shorty by himself for more than a few minutes. Since he was born. I was in full-blown Mama Bear mode. This whole week consisted of fighting panic attacks, night sweats, not being able to eat, then eating my weight in Taco Bell. It was ugly.

And today? It went better than I could have imagined. Shortpants has been asleep since about 6:30, which bums me out a little, because with my work schedule I only really get to spend good time with him on the weekends, but we have all day tomorrow.

Am I friends with my ex-husband? Hardly. But I like to consider myself a good person, to do what is really right, and try (it's SO hard) to not make it be about me, but about what's best for Shortpants. And yes, when my boy ran into my arms when I picked him up, I may have done a neener neener neener and made this face: 

Exactly what this French Ken-ig-ut just said!

on the inside, where it belongs. <insert "being a grown-up sucks" whine here>

Chasing that elusive "Me Time"

Oh Kelly, quit your complaining.... you have ONE kid who is generally in bed by 8:00. What's the problem?

The problem is I'm exhausted. Therefore, Shortpants and I have the same bedtime lately. Well, I'm in bed at a decent enough time, but asleep? Pfft.

Our day starts in the dark. I hit snooze until I can't squeeze anymore minutes out of "Okay, if I don't leave in X minutes, I'm going to be late", stumble to the shower, while in the shower decide to wear pants so I don't have to waste time shaving, get out, throw some gunk in my hair to make it look like I meant it to be that way, attempt to conceal the bags and sags and zits, and then... head to his room.

This is where it is different every day. Some days I hear happy jabbering (Yay! This morning is going to be eeeeeeeeeeeeeasy peasy!). Some days I hear the cutest snoring on the planet (This could prove interesting. I have a 50/50 shot as to how he's going to wake up - smiles or screams. Crap.). Some days I have heard him hollering way before my alarm was ORIGINALLY set to go off - and let's be completely honest here - I stick my nose in his door and take a huge sniff to make sure it's not pants related before I say "Just a second!" and go take my 3 minute shower.

I know what you're thinking. Really, I do. Because I think the same thing. But if you think a tornado has anything on my kid, you're wrong. Very, very wrong.

Also? Shortpants is on the Autism Spectrum - on the severe end. He doesn't speak, and he still sleeps in his crib. I know he's four. That's another post.

Usually (key word right there), I say "Good morning, Sunshine! Let's get ready for schoooooooool!" (because THAT's not annoying first thing in the morning) and he'll head to the door in his pajamas and 8 lb pullup. It's a good sign though, because getting him dressed shouldn't be too much of a fight. Half of that is managed because we still have temperatures that are equivalent to living in a volcano, so we don't have to deal with socks. Ask me later. I don't have the strength.

Anyway, he's either cooperative or he's not. Duh. Just like any other kid. And then we figure out what we want for breakfast (cereal or cereal - in a cup, because milk can't touch it - and that's fine, because it's commute-friendly), and THEN? It's meds time.

Holy Hand Grenades, I wish this wasn't an option, but life pre-meds? Neither my heart nor my brain will consider it for a second. I think he understands these help, but he hates taking them, unless they're covered with butterscotch pudding or strawberry yogurt. And even then, it's a chase around the house, and lots of attractive begging and pleading from me, and "Just one bite!" gets said about a thousand times, and the mouth will open! And the spoon gets shoved in! And then... well... the last couple of days we've figured out that we have two options - spit or swallow. And spitting has been the favorite lately, much to my dismay. But there are times that I'm pleasantly surprised, like today, for example.... he's been a complete trainwreck all morning, but I didn't even have to ask him to take his medicine, he stood there like a little baby bird waiting for his mama to give him something to eat. (Aww.) That's the last thing he's been cooperative about this morning, but hey - one is better than none, right?

We get in the car, and head down the road - still in the dark. We have a 2.5 hour round trip commute. Yeah. Awesome. And we listen to a combination of Phineas and Ferb, The Backyardigans, Laurie Berkner, and thrash metal on the way. (Well, after an hour of those three, my brain is bleeding, S.I.M.P. SQUIRRELS IN MY PANTS is permanently stuck in my head, and I might as well have listened to thrash metal all the way as much as my head is throbbing.). He goes to school or daycare, and I get back on the highway to go the last 25ish minutes to work. Which is when I turn on usually a country station and daydream about Blake Shelton. Or Luke Bryan. Or Jake Owen. Oh, Jake Owen.... you're so hot....

I digress. Off to work, save the world, try to remember who is picking Shorty up (because no daycare will stay open past 6, and when do I get off work? You guessed it.), and head home. Monday through Thursday, I drive home alone. Yes, I guess that's technically "me time", but since I have to get home and I have to drive - my definition of "me time" doesn't include any "have tos". Get home, dinner, bath, bed, collapse.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

Ideas? Thanks in advance.

Love,

A Mom who would love to actually know what's on tv this season, or what's going on in the world, or have a hobby, or know what other adults do past 830 at night.