Happiness is…

This may be it this week. I’ve been nagging myself to post, but we’ve opened the shop an hour earlier this week, and with The Boy home for vacation, my routine is so funky, I’m all messed up. So rather than stress, I thought I’d write a simple post to wish you all the happiness of the season. 

My family is my heart and my happiness, and this week in particular, they are my focus.

Love you all to bits!

My boys and the beach

Feeling in Control

One of the bits of advice that hangs on is “Fake it ’til you make it.” This bit has rung true for me. I have been able to pretend long enough to get the hang of something more times than I can count. Part of getting out of this low, scary place I’ve been has been “faking” that I am in control. In other words, planning.

I’ve done several posts on planning, and how it’s just part of my DNA. And even though I don’t have much to plan at work (besides how I’m going to spend six hours a day with no customers, which is actually enjoyable), I have found some peace.

You may remember that that I was trying to determine if I was going to order a Plum Paper Planner or another Erin Condren earlier this fall. I ended up ordering the Plum Paper Planner, and it is very stylish, and lovely, and just what I wanted at the time.

MTNAbout two weeks later, I found Midori Travelers Notebooks on Pinterest and fell in love. Had to have it, ordered one as an incentive for NaNoWriMo. It was so lovely to hold, and such a neat little niche of paper geeks that came along with it (I think I joined three different facebook groups). It was a fantastic motivator for NaNo (I won by the way!). I used it everyday, and loved how grown up and worldly it looked, as opposed to the sorority girlishness of the Erin Condren world, and I started to feel guilty toward my Plum Paper Planner.

Shortly after that, I came across the Bullet Journal again. I had dismissed it earlier because it sounded complicated. But the more I looked into it, the more creative I found it, and ironically, the more personalized. Way more personalized than Erin Condren or Plum Paper Planner could ever hope to be. Of course it was more work, but if the act of doing more work helps one find focus, remember more, and get more done, isn’t that a nifty trick?

habittrackerOn the last day of November, I started my BuJo (short for Bullet Journal), and have used it daily ever since. I was even able to take it to the meeting with the school administrators, with a page dedicated to the topics I’d like to discuss, and space on the facing page to take notes during the meeting. It is much more than a planner, containing “collections”, quotes, and goals. The community I have found (again on facebook and even instagram) has helped me plan, design my own setup, track habits I’d like to form, and figure out 100 life goals I’d like to achieve in the next ten years.

If it sounds hippy dippy, it’s really not. You can put into what you want, and take from it what you want. Goal setting was not something I had done in a long time, and what is better to do at your lowest point than set some goals and plan some ways to climb out of it?

If you are at all interested, you should check out this from the guy who came up with the system – Ryder, and this from one of the ladies who has made it fun – Kara Benz at BohoBerry (it’s actually the second in her series, but I find it more informative than the first). If not, that’s ok too. I just wanted to share what has helped me turn a corner.

And if you’re wondering about my Plum Paper Planner, I’m going to use it for blog planning and bill paying. That’s the plan, anyway 😉

Demands, Airplanes, and Christmas

Text from the ex (summarized by me): Hey, you haven’t told me if I can get The Boy for a week after Christmas, and oh by the way, I can’t do Thanksgiving. And I want him to fly up because I can’t get off my sorry ass and drive.

I can’t tell you the last time the ex has spoken to his son on the phone. He hasn’t seen him since last Christmas.  He’s made one piddly child support payment in the last 60 days, but he is going to text me and all in one breath tell me he’s cancelling his next visitation but wants to put him on an airplane after Christmas and could I hurry up about getting back to him because he has to buy plane tickets.

How about you hurry up and pay child support?  How about you hurry up and call your son?  How about you —

Deep breath.

Only four more years. Putting him on a plane will never happen because it would take money and planning skills, neither of which he obviously has.

smh

Update: Since this was written, I texted him to ask what he had found out about airline assistance programs. He promised to call Sunday to talk about it. Never called.

stress by bottled_void

The Importance of Friends

I’ve never made friends easily. Maybe it’s a spectrummy trait, but I’ve always been somewhat socially awkward, not sure what to say, or when to say it in a conversation.  I don’t read others’ cues all that well, and it’s always been tricky.  My friends over the years have been much like me, not completely socially adept, and never the popular ones, and I like it that way.

The Man makes friends easily, or so I surmise, because he seems to know everyone within a 100 mile radius.  Part of that is growing up here, part of it is having several successful businesses in the area, so that people either went to school with him, bought a mattress from him, bought some blinds from him, or had him fix their sink/closet/screen door/roof. We often can’t get out of the grocery store on a weeknight without stopping to talk to two or three people. And part of his day is structured around breaks at the convenience store and the hardware store so that he can shoot the breeze with some folks.

But, we don’t hang out with other couples. We don’t “entertain”. When we watch HGTV and these young couples are adamant they need space for that, he and I just look at each other uncomprehendingly.  We barely use our dining table for us, let alone needing space for other people. As an entity, we are not very social.

friends at the beachThe Boy has friends at school, and there is one family with a few kids that he feels comfortable going to hang out with outside of school.  Otherwise, he enjoys hanging out in his room with his electronics, or walking around the yard. He enjoys being by himself, obviously.

We like it this way.

However… People need friends.

Being social to the point of doing stuff with other people is difficult, I think, for all three of us. And just because something is difficult, doesn’t mean it’s not necessary.

There are other children at school that I think The Boy would like to hang out with, but either the families have not shown much interest, or I’m not sure how to contact them. And we don’t often attend the autism society chapter’s functions because many times they are on Saturdays, when we do family stuff.

When I left my job, the one person I considered a friend there pretty much fell off the face of the earth. I tried for awhile, but when it wasn’t reciprocated, I stopped trying. Everyone I work with now is in a different place in life than I am, i.e. just quit college… And those in the area I do call friends are soooo, so busy.

It’s a difficult thing. Between homework battles, trying to get dinner on the table, paying bills, looking for more meaningful work, and enjoying each other as a family, I feel like there isn’t much time anyway. But I also increasingly feel like we’re more and more isolated, and we need to do something about it.

Even if it isn’t comfortable.

Milestones & Success

Yesterday was my birthday, and naturally, I am in a reflective mood.

I’ve learned so much through The Boy about milestones and success, and how the social constructs that make us believe we aren’t quite achieving as much as we should (there’s that awful word) are a figment of our own imaginations.  And yet…

I have to confess that as I step firmly into my 40s, I wonder what I have to show for myself.  Not in terms of what I’ve accomplished, but where I am currently.  Let me make perfectly clear that I am happy.  I made a conscious decision to leave teaching to be with loved ones and for my own mental health. I made another conscious decision to leave my decent-paying job, again for my own mental health. But I can’t honestly say that working for minimum wage has done much for my own sense of self-worth.

I am very happy and grateful to be employed, don’t get me wrong.  And my current position is just what I needed, really. The complete lack of stress, the laid back coworkers, the peace of mind are so valuable to me, I can’t really put it into words. But peace of mind doesn’t pay the bills, and I am not old enough to retire. In other words, I still have so much to give, so much to offer.  But the job market here just won’t bear it.

On the continuum of employment, from stressful to no-stress, from meaningful to not-in-the-least-important-to-society, from almost $100K to minimum wage, I am still searching for that middle ground, and it is elusive. And work is important to me.

The Man and I have long considered creating our own business plan, not only for ourselves, but also to ensure that The Boy has meaningful employment, as well (I mean, if I can’t find employment, imagine how difficult it will be for a young man on the spectrum).  If necessity is the mother of invention, we may be giving birth to our own opportunities very soon.

I just have to remind myself (continously) that if I start to walk down the path of “shoulds” (ie I should be making this much, I should be doing xyz), I will be in the weeds.  That path was never right for The Boy, and can do nothing but harm to me. We will just need to blaze our own path to find that balance and meaning, and have faith that we will find our way.

finding our own path

Screaming Children in Public Places

There seems to have been a recurring theme all summer, and it has now bled into the fall with the latest story of a couple of ladies who took it upon themselves to write a passive aggressive note to a parent at a restaurant. In previous cases, a restaurant owner balled out a toddler, and a woman had her check paid by a stranger.

It seems a pretty divisive conversation.  People do not hesitate to comment, and comment strongly, about WHAT THEY THINK.

I get both sides of the issue.  I really do.  And I was not there in any of these cases, so I personally do not know the extent of the “screaming”. There are times that The Man and I have been out to dinner, and been severely annoyed by a toddler allowed to run around the wooden booth behind us, and there are other times when a particularly enthusiastic child doesn’t bother me. A lot depends on the situation, the age of the child, and the parents’ attempt or lack thereof to control the behavior.

But here’s the thing. Public spaces are public. Kids are kids. Restaurants are open to all kinds of people. You cannot control your environment unless you are at home, and as soon as you try to, you infringe on someone else’s rights. Parents with rambunctious children have a right to go out to eat once in awhile.  And you may have to suffer through an annoying experience once in awhile.  That’s just life.  Unless you want to go off-grid and live like a hermit, you will have to deal with other people who are not under your control.

Also, how do you expect children to learn how to behave in restaurants if they never get the chance to go to one? What are we teaching children if we whisk them out of every public place as soon as they make a peep? The Boy is not whisked out of his classroom every time he needs to pace or starts to get upset, nor should he be.  He needs to learn how to manage his emotions and still participate in class, much like a small child should learn this as well.  They can only do that in situ.

This does all depend on the parent making the moment teachable, and monitoring when the behavior gets to be too much for the surroundings.

Judgy and opiniony.  It’s getting a little thick out there again.  Be nice, don’t judge, offer to help, and get over it.

The Ex, Fall Plans, and a Boy Growing Up

DCP_0407When the ex cancelled his summer visitation, he said he planned to come and visit The Boy this fall some time, and then asked about Christmas.  At the time, I reminded him that he had had The Boy last Christmas, which would mean he would have him for Thanksgiving this year, instead, and then possibly the week after Christmas if we could work it out. He agreed, and said he would let me know about fall plans.

Tomorrow, October begins, and I doubt the visit here will happen. In fact, he texted the other day to explain why we hadn’t received child support in a month, and to reiterate that he was “working on” Thanksgiving. No mention of the previous plan to visit here sometime this fall.

The Boy has been through this enough to know that what his dad says will happen rarely does, but he still hopes. When I remind him that we’ll have to wait and see what happens, “I know, I know, I know,” he says, and goes right on hoping. Usually.

Fast forward to this past weekend. It was a rough one, because the girl upon whom The Boy has a crush was absent Friday. As you well know, when someone is absent from school, it is a sign that the end is nigh, and we all run around screaming at the sky because she has moved away, we will never see her again, and why bother doing anything because there’s no point.

The Man and I were doing our best to cheer him up, offering fun things to do, and being generally silly, when suddenly, The Boy piped up from the backseat of the car (always conversing in the car), “I have an idea!” Usually this means he is starting to come around, starting to make everything ok in his own mind, but this time it was actually a real idea. “We can go to Myrtle Beach and ride the go-karts, and I don’t mind missing school to do that.”

Wait, what?

Did he just say he was ok with missing school? This kid? The one I have had to beg and plead with doctors and dentists for the past eight years just to find appointments close to the end of the school day so I wouldn’t be reminded fortnightly of that one day in February of 2006 when he had to miss school??

But he wasn’t finished.

“And if my dad can’t have me for Thanksgiving weekend, we could even go then!”

He actually vocalized himself that his dad’s plans would most likely fall through. And made a back up plan of his own to deal with it.

I think my little boy is growing up.

*tear*

Moving, Removing, and Limbo

We put our house on the market in June.  Two days later we had an offer.  We negotiated and agreed upon a price.

Since that time, we have been going through the process – appraisals, inspections, etc.  All of the details that have to happen, be approved, and then to the next step.  This past week, we were supposed to close on Friday.

Monday we got a call that there was an issue with the paperwork, which could nullify the deal. Tuesday, we got another call that the issue had been cleared up, and we were all set to go with the closing on Friday.  Wednesday afternoon, we got another call with another issue, which could delay the closing, but were told to plan as if the closing was still going to happen.

I don’t know about where you live, but apparently here, the buyers take possession of the house immediately after closing.  This means if there is a closing, your house better be packed up and empty.

As a result, we packed up our entire house Wednesday evening so that The Man could move it all to the place we were supposedly renting on Thursday to be ready for the closing Friday.

Thursday, we were in limbo, but emptied the house.

Friday, we were notified that the closing would be postponed 2-4 weeks.

How do people do this? All of the professionals kept saying, “This happens all the time,” and the response in my head was, “Why? How?” I think my stomach was in perpetual knots the entire week.  I couldn’t concentrate at work.  The Boy was completely confused, staying at Grammy’s several days and nights so that he at least had some consistency in his life.  As it is, he is still confused, as am I.

limbo roomWe decided to move everything back to our house, and forgo any rental until the papers are signed, and the money has cleared.  It’s just too much to bear.  In my opinion, attorneys handling the closing should get their paperwork in order way before the week of the closing, so that if there are any issues, people are not having to rent another moving truck to re-move back into their own homes, hopefully they haven’t yet signed a lease on a rental, and they are able to cancel cable installations after they’ve already happened.  It’s insanity.

Apparently, everything is still going to happen, but we have some steps to follow to clear up an issue.  So keep us in your thoughts. The real estate rollercoaster is always aggravating, but this has been beyond the pale, especially with a young man with autism in the house struggling to understand what’s going on.

Love & Linens

tea towelFor my birthday, and then again for Christmas, The Man got me gift certificates for a locally owned, independent kitchen store that stocks really nice things that I would never, ever buy for myself.  Early this spring, I was able to finally go in and choose some things to purchase, like a pair of high quality tea towels with some simple stripes in my favorite beachy colors.

I was hesitant to even put them in the kitchen, but that’s what I bought them for, so after a couple of weeks, up they went, and silly as it was, I got a kick out of seeing them everyday.

And then we had a spill on our new glass top stove, and in haste, The Man grabbed one of the new towels to wipe up the spill…

And then one day recently, The Man came in from mowing the lawn or doing some other thing that makes him incredibly sweaty and dirty, and washed up in the kitchen sink, grabbing the second of my new towels before the thought even crossed his mind that these were not intended to withstand man-dirt.  As soon as he pulled away and saw the destruction he had left in his wake, he knew there wasn’t much he could do to bring it back to life.

“It’s OK,” I said.  “It’s just dirt.  We’ll wash it,” I said, knowing full well that it was probably toast, just like it’s mate had been.

A few days later, I saw one of them in his pile of rags to take to the truck to use for painting or other handyman uses. I think I flinched and said something like, “Oh, my birthday towels…” I was totally not intending to make him feel guilty, but just reacting to my silly little towels and their short life span.

This past week, after a change in evening plans necessitated a fast food meal for dinner instead of our planned dinner, we were ready to take our two vehicles home, The Boy in The Man’s truck, and me alone in my little car. The Man called me over to his window before I got into my car and handed me a craft paper gift bag, with a ribbon and contents wrapped in tissue – all this from a man who isn’t big on gifts.

He had gone back to the kitchen store and picked me up a couple of new towels to replace the ones he had accidentally ruined. “I know they aren’t the same pattern, but I thought you’d like these anyway,” he explained, slightly embarrassed.

I can’t put into words how much I love him. Not because he bought me some tea towels, but because he cares enough to notice, and knows how to make it right. Because he knows it’s the small stuff, the “little bit of everything,” that matters so much in the long run.  Yep, I think I’ll keep him.