the begining of the tales 4th grade nothing

i made it. it took a few days, i chewed off every nail, but i made it through the first day of school. never mind the children, it's the moms who have to run that marathon. i still haven't purchased the supplies, and i had to stop at publix pre-drop-off for juice boxes, but even with those snafus i made to the "parent loop" 15 min early, managed to take a decent picture and get to work on time. phew
this is great considering that a week ago i was still waiting for my private catholic school to call me about this wait list thing. you see i had filled out all the paperwork, but in the midst of the new baby, my mother in law living in my house for months to care for said baby, my unemployed husband moving to new york to work, and a pending foreclosure, i forgot to send in the paperwork.
on the last day of school the teacher surprised me by saying "too bad you won't be back next year." my reaction was a very spears-like "huh?" followed by a sprint to the principal's office and getting on a wait list.
i worried over it all summer. my kid needed stability, and i was a horrible mother. how could i have forgotten? the only thing that was the same as last year was school, and i had to do everything in my power to make it happen.
all summer, i called the school weekly to check on the list. nada. two days before school, i just gave up or should i say in, and went to the principal to "beg" yes beg. my son had instructed me to "literally beg mom, ok?" so i did. and i also cried. i let it out. i had a complete meltdown on the principal, and she was very kind to allow it. it had been building up.
i knew then it wasn't so much about the school as much as my insecurity. i cried because my son was being punished because i had been careless. i cried because i knew that was the last time i was going to see the walls of that school, and i cried because i always do when something ends, or in my mind "dies."
the catholic schoolboy days are over for nik. he's no longer going to be babied, protected by the holy trinity from the evils of the world. his old fashioned education had given me, whether real or not, peace of mind. at 9 years old he has outgrown it, and as is usual i'm the last one to notice. i'm also the parent who takes the death of something through the entire stages of grief. he's a big brother now and can take a faster paced and more diverse education. he's ready, and i have to be confident that i've done a great job.
if everything else in our lives has changed, why not the school then? i fought it, and i fought it hard. i feel satisfied to loose; i'm a sweaty boxer who didn't get knocked out. the blows to the head brought me clarity, and with new perspective i'm ready to take my family to the next level.

fiesta si, siesta no

i put baby to bed and am too tired to shower. self doubt kicks in and i wonder what is the right way to put a crying, tired child to bed without a tantrum. i do the routine, i read the story, mood music in the background, eyelids droop and then bam! fake tears wholehearted screeching and wailing. the works. welcome back migraine.
i leave him in the crib and go up to my room. he quiets down. i know he's listening, hunting for signs that mom is around. a misstep, he heard me stumble on a stair. screeching begins again. waaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh! louder than before, piercing.
my instinct says get him, but i don't. he has to go to bed. he has to be alone. who says? i do. i know it all right? this second child has humbled me. i don't have all the answers and whatever worked for my fist kid, doesn't necessarily work for the new baby.
for years i was lucky, numero uno was easy. eat sleep, poop. low maintenance for years. he was portable and adaptable, hardly ever noticeable. god knew i couldn't handle anything else. this one is hungry all the time, for company, for food, for fiesta.
the change of pace has been harder on me than i care to admit. just because i'm humbled and humiliated doesn't mean i'm ready to change. it's always been hard for me to accept certain things are different and move on. even harder when its me being wrong. my brain knows it, but my soul just wont give up. i'm just like the crying baby downstairs. when will we learn. now we're both crying ourselves to seep. at least he's clean.

holiday

i’ve been and continue to be in recovery. from what? my vacation of course! as i’ve recounted my recent trip, i continue to relive the instances, that in order to survive, i had blacked out. i have selective memory, and getting stuck in the subway revolving door with the stroller, while my sister was stuck on the other one, baby in arms, is just the beginning.
the first couple of days, hung out with my eldest. i had the tenacious undertaking of helping him navigate the new york subway system and taking him to camp. i had reserved a hotel which turned out to be a 217$ a night roach motel. we left after one day, but not without having to ride around the city, and into new jersey in a bus and three subway trains, alone. have i mentioned the million degree weather, humidity and rain? walking into my brother in law and his new wife whilst sexing?
yeah, it sucked, but back to my escapades…the last 4 days, my wonderful sister (let’s hear it for the mommy support team….woot) and the baby joined me. after a lot of grief, I had sorted out the hotel mess, so i waited patiently with my eldest to see them reunite after 4 weeks apart.
few things make me happier than having my whole family together, and to be in nyc with them was supposed to be marvelous. speaking as a self proclaimed car hater, i did miss my vehicle. yeah, i said it now wipe off that victorious smile. never having thought that it could be warmer and wetter than florida, i didn’t preface the trip with any special plans, and was left to my own limited devices, like a survivor contestant who swapped the amazon for an urban jungle.
at times i had no water or shade, making hauling my laptop and purse really difficult. i never thought to bring an umbrella and once there didn’t feel like toting more junk. not to mention the extra weight i’m carrying in scorching (literally) jeans. shorts and skirts would lead to chafing which would've been an unwelcome addition to my list of toils. i’m also on a budget which made taxis, decent food, and bottled water not viable at all times. at one point I bartered my last dollars for a hotdog and water at grays papaya under the guise that I was “eating for two.” i know, cheap shot.
adding baby to the mix only exacerbated my inadequacies. i’ve already cited getting stuck in the subway, but the worse was getting around in a decidedly not urban stroller. those sidewalks are dangerous, and the puddles! oh the puddles! feet wet, i kept thinking of my rain boots in their box at home, happy, dry. having to be on time for various forms of transportation, given the obstacle course nature of the city, drove me and my control freak ways mad. babies and nyc are like oil and water, they don’t mix well, especially if you’re a novice.
it wasn’t all bad, the time we finally spent together was great. attending my son’s first movie premiere was awesome and hanging out with ecuadorian immigrants in queens was an eye-opener. a true learning experience, this nyc “family vacation” was full of surprises; and in the end, i made it. does this mean now i can make it anywhere? well, at least for 10 days i can.

july 29

it’s a humid, gorgeous morning at battery park today. the vendors are just setting up and i’m already making life altering parenting decisions, or at least thinking about them. i strike a conversation with a girl from the staff; in 20 seconds we both find out we have sons. when you have kids, it's pretty much the first thing that ever pops out your mouth. i’m instantly comfortable now and feel that new york is not going to swallow me alive. we both bore children right? motherhood, the great equalizer.

30 min ago I dropped off tween at camp. i was supposed to hang out with him for 20 minutes until he left for the art colony, and he flat out dissed me, unabashedly dismissed me, and displayed a self confidence that wasn’t there before. he coolly said “bye mom,” gave me that squint of the eye underneath all that hair that means “you’re embarrassing me, scat,” and turned to his new friends.

he was so poised too. now that I think of it, he’s been so poised, so cool and neutral. new yorkers treat children like adults, and nik has been apt at playing the part. i’ve been wrestling with the idea that he doesn’t need me, and that dad fills my void. there’s nothing to wrestle with now. he’s just not that into me. the truth is, he’s self sufficient, exactly like how i’ve brought him up to be. never allowed to hide under my skirt, always made to self stimulate and his is a new world order, and times are a changing my friends. like on husband, new york looks damn good on him. my boy, or shall I say tween. yes i’ve been required to stop using the word boy and instead replace it with tween, preteen is acceptable too.

motherhood is full of hard choices, and being here alone i face my demons. There’s no one but myself to judge my thoughts. In a split second, I saw how comfortable in his skin he is here. his ADHD subdued, his ticks normalized, because the city has more ADD than nik could ever have. He wants to belong here, and i’m contemplating the idea that i should allow him to start fresh and make his own decision. i’ve raised an independent thinker, a mature little boy, so why is it so hard at this juncture to let him go?

the answer is as simple as it is complicated. i adore him, and want what’s best for him. that doesnt necesarily make it best for me. it appears to my untrained eye, that being here in this pulsating, indescribable place makes him happy, and more importantly self-confident. his self-torture has given way to passion, and passion usually lead to happiness. what would have become of me if I had been allowed to follow my dreams as a kid? i guess i’ll never know, but what i do know is that i won't limit my son, clip his wings. after all, why the hell did i teach him how to fly ?

price of perfection

yesterday they, were suspicions, maybe paranoia. today my worst fears have been confirmed. it happened during a stroll in park slope. i’m obsolete. the men don’t need me anymore. they can clean, cook, wash, entertain themselves, etc. unreal. i've been with them 3 days and it seems that in a month they have jumped out of reality and into their own private utopia.

my mothering them is over; it's both unnecessary and rejected. in my hand i hold my carcass, deflated. these feelings and the city keep me constantly aroused, introspective. i want to enjoy it but i cant. i want to, but every hidden corner begs me to think, to self-indulge. it’s a way to take care of myself, if not in body, although I am walking a lot, but at least in spirit.

straight out of a telenovela, i feel betrayal. i have poured myself into these beings, both father and son, only to be alienated from them. i'm insecure, cracking under pressure, my person shattered, scattered, even tattered onto the debris of the city. there it goes, so passive aggressive, swept by the department of sanitation, by the wonderful transsexual who sweeps her corner of the park incessantly in black patent leather heels and white faux silk stalking. i’ve seen her every day. she’s undeterred, sweeping and sweeping but the dirt never stops. tourist pass by and throw trash right at her feet, she’s never rude she just smiles and sweeps in onto her ladle thingy. it’s her job. just ike being a mom is my job. and it's as endless and thankless as sweeping the city.

july 28

this small little thing is ruining my relaxation. i’m finding it impossible to penetrate the new bonded formed between nik and his dad. they have both grown up and away from me this past month and formed their own little culture. can’t tell where one begins and one ends. nik. my mommy charms are not working on him like they do for the baby. i can’t just make him laugh out of thin air anymore.

this month, I’ve let down my guard. i am no longer cool. i knew he would be different after his trip, i just didn’t know it would be so hard. at least the house is divided into two camps, for now. in ten years i’m gonna be the minority again. in my experience, mommying boys is amazing and intense and then it tapers off. i knew when i planned it, suggested it, and executed it that sending my son away was going to have an impact, consequences, and that quite possibly they could wound me. but it’s good pain. the first step in a long staircase of letting go.

innocent moments like the first day of pre-k, or that first lost tooth are gone. nik has transitioned to the hormone years, leaving baby and me in shit up to our elbows. i'll still be useful; we'll still be close, but he's ridin’ that wave i've been talking about, prepared to make his little mind think on his own, explore his creativity, ideas. after all, that's what i wanted, right?

so many things about being a mom end up biting you in the ass, in a good way. no matter how much you prepare, it always takes you by surprise. and now, I find myself, launching one and letting go of the other.

ready set go

i'm sitting at the pbi terminal on my way to meet my son again. in kid time, a month can be a life altering eternity, especially if said kid has been commuting between sayrville (fastfact: home of bon jovi), brooklyn and manhattan. i cant imagine fair nik's reaction upon returning to florida; i heard he's adjusted to inner city pressure quite well. he just told told me he's walking around williamsburg "williamsburger is my favorite restaurant mom,"taking in the grittiness gentrified, while i wait to get on a plane surrounded by the accents that will stay with me for the next ten days.

for this poorly planned trip i only have one objective. i want to go to bed and wake up everyday next to one P to tha D. oh that hubby of mine; being geographically apart has made us better partners, better parents and better friends.

the annoying girl next to me is singing high school musical (fastfact:overproduced disney bs); she's animated, annoying, and a little to old to be behaving like this. she looks 18. "oooh my gawd, take a pichure wit my iphone! at the airport! in palm beach!" which incidentally is the most vanilla airport i've ever come across. it could be worse; i could be sitting in miami.

shit! we are boarding and there is an unusual number of kids on the flight. every single one of them travelling with a nintendo and loaded with sugary snacks. what are their parents thinking?! what happened to fucking books!?aren't these kids the ones suppossed to save print?

but back to nik, the one who started it all, the crazy journey. if someone would have told me that i would scratch the surface, find myself, through motherhood, i would have spit.

blerg! bitch still singing! if i strangle her, will i be arrested or will i be a hero? maybe they would insist i ride on the pilots' lap. maybe he looks like don draper!

again, momsville, focus. i was nikless for weeks and have hardly missed him. i was able to love on baby A like never before, without the jealous eyes of the older child peering through doorways, watching my moves, counting my kisses, comparing. i've been able to whisper secrets, sing original songs, take early walks on the beach and float away in the wave-less ocean. all of this in the company of my current number one fan. soon enough he'll be doubting me like nik, second guessing, hanging on to dad's every word and i will become second best.

they just called me. i'm ready to meet the sprite, to kiss the freckle on the tip of his nose and run my hands through his greasy hair. and for the next couple of days we'll enjoy life as it was, the three of us, nostalgic, silently wishing that the bambino were among us.