Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Back to School Night

How depressing!  I mention my son Beto to the teacher and she says, "Well, yeah he's on green but he needs to work on his cutting...," and some other such stupid nonsense!"  He will work on his cutting but #@#.  If he is on green every day it is because he is being AWESOME!  She has no idea.  Sofía's teacher came over to me and said, "And whose class is your child in?"  I said, "Well, my daughter is in yours.  How is she doing?" "She's doing OK so far was the answer."  WTF!!!!  Such mediocre, lukewarm responses to the sounds of my children's names and I trust you with them for so many hours a day????!!!!  I wish they could just be at home with me and I could teach them in a less cold environment.  They like school.  I don't like it all over again. They make me feel like my children are stupid.  They have no idea that 5 days a week little people walk into their lives who should transform them and THEY just go to work.  

Back to School Night

I am dedicated to showing up for these school activities but they feel like such a waste of time. I just spoke to Beto's treacher and she just kind of smoked and moves on. She doesn't wasn't to talk. That is my only reason for coming. I feel guilty for feeling this way but I have work to do.

OK, I am leaving this entry as it is because it is funny.  I used the slide feature on my phone and it doesn't say at all what I wanted to.

Monday, August 29, 2011

Today's Teatag Wisdom

Wait for the wisest of all counselors, Time.
                                                -Pericles-  490 BC - 429 BC



You Can Run...

I sit down to read and drink my tea on the patio.  I have decided to read Mujer en Traje de Batalla by Antonio Benítez Rojo.  On page one the person remembered romantically by the narrator is none other than a Robert.

A Pyre

My laughter told me that I should meditate.  He explained to me that meditation was the act of mentally remodeling and reassessing life and self.  He told me that what his instructor liked to do was to go back to his sweetest memory which was walking along the beach with his wife and from the beach he would go into his castle...

Though I didn't assume the position, I meditated last night.  I laid down, closed my eyes and started to build my funeral pyre.  I don't really know what my sweetest memory is.  I don't know what my happiest memory is ...well, I think it was when Roberto surprised us for Thanksgiving.  I was so happy that day.  He had decided to share our space and to share his time with us and he didn't have to.  He always made me to feel that he didn't want to do things with/for us he simply had to.

Anyway, I walked through my mind to my castle.  It is large and white as every castle should be.  I thought about ridding myself of the hurt, of the belittlement, of the sadness, of him.  I would need to build a funeral pyre.  I took my work seriously and in short time I was weeping and  feverishly retrieving all of my memories  of him.  On the bottom I put the moment we met.  It is hardly worth noting except that it led to the next day and the next and so on.  As I scurried through the castle I quickly saw that almost nothing remained and my pyre reached the clouds.  I was tired but I could not stop.  There was one last thing.  With legs heavy from climbing and arms weary from lifting, with eyes swollen from crying I slowly dragged myself up the winding staircase to the master bedroom to where he slept in all of his splendor, unknowing, unfeeling.

As I hoisted that darkest of my creations over my shoulder pain shot through me.  He was so much bigger than I was.  And just as I carried him into my life, I carried him out.  One labored step at a time.  Every 3 steps or so I leaned against the wall and then the railing to catch my breath.  I walked out of the open doors of my castle  with the light that flooded the darkness and looked up to the top of the pyre.  I took a deep breath and began to climb.    

THIS memory would not hurt me again.  And then I couldn't move; my foot had gotten stuck on a memory...bittersweet...the birth of our first set of twins...I adjusted him on my shoulder stretched my arms out as wide as I could and held on as tight as I could and from deep within me came the sound of pain.   It was loud and didn't sound human to my ears.  My hands were bleeding and my body was scratched and cut; all of these pieces had jagged edges.  I traveled back to that moment, the birth of our twins ...There I was sitting in a hospital bed crying and holding my two new beautiful babies.  It was just us and I didn't even know how we would get through the next week.  The nurse asked me who would help me when I got home and there was not one (Yeni would be my helper).  I was alone then as I am alone now.

Returning to myself, I proceeded to climb.  The memories called out to me, they reached for me but I closed my eyes and focused my strengh.

When I arrived at the top.  I laid him down with all of the love that I had ever felt for him.  I wiped the blood from his body.  Those memories had hurt him too.  I rubbed my hands over his grey thinning hair  and remembered the boy I had met.  Placing the fingers of my right hand on the side of his face I ran my thumb across his lips.  I loved his lips.  I pulled  his lower lip back with my thumb and looked at his teeth, remembering how they used to scare me just a little and how ashamed I felt about that. I remembered his gold teeth. When I released his lips, he was perfect again.  Again I touched his lips.  Cradling his head in my hands I ran my thumbs gently over his eyes and remembered wondering why the white of his eyes was beginning to grow over the lovely brown of his eyes. I would always think of his eyes when frying eggs when the membrane over the yellow began to turn white.  I remembered wondering if it had something to do with drug use but didn't ever really want to know.  I put my hands on his chest I had loved the look of my brown hands on his brown skin.  I had loved the feel of his chest hair under my fingers.  I remembered him shaving it...  I put my hand in his limp hand and felt the warmth of his skin.  Can I paint you? he once said to me.  I looked at his hands and saw that he didn't have the hands of a painter, well, maybe of a house painter.  I placed my lips on his forehead to say goodbye to what had been my life.  Looking at him, I felt like I could lay beside him and lite the pyre with my passion alone.  Reaching into my shirt I pulled out the single match that I had brought.  Even the match was a memory of him.

I struck the match, placed it and hastily climbed down from the pyre.    It was finally over.

I would hope no more.  I would want no more.  We were only ever a figment of my imagination and THAT was no more.  What he showed of himself I didn't want to see and what he didn't I supplied to make him fit into my castle.  He never belonged there but being there he changed it and it was no longer mine.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Irene's Footprint

The Aftermath

The title of this blog is too dramatic by half but I think, in a way, this is all the aftermath of something and as I thought of that phrase I just wanted to use it.

Today as my littlest one and I cleaned up the patio after the nights wind and rain I felt free.  In fact, I didn't feel divorced at all.  The only thing I lose with the legal dissolution of that marriage is the desire to ever really be able to love him and be loved by him.  It has been the most frustrating feeling of my life and as I swept the debris from the patio and moved the furniture and plants back I thought of the same thing happening in my life.

I wondered for a moment what I will fill my brain with.

The night I received the divorce papers I laid in bed wounded and eldest came and sat in the darkness with me.  I laid on my bed looking toward the ceiling and holding my center.  We talked quietly.  He recalled my earlier pain.  He told me how it made him feel.    ...

My son gave me a most precious gift.  He explained to me how to meditate.  It is the answer to what I will fill my mind with, to what I will hope for, to what I will reach for.    His fight instructor taught him and it has proved invaluable to him.  One of the sweetest things about my eldest is that when he learns something new, he is so excited about it that he has to share with someone and he enriches the lives of those around him.  His growth brings me so much joy.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

"Diosito,..."

Dear God;

Please make him feel everything that he made me feel.  I never would have made him feel that so if he is ever to feel that he cannot be with me.  While you're listening please forgive such an awful prayer but if you answer it, please have him remember me as he feels those things.  Amen.

Humbly,
Me

Waiting on Irene

I Don't Want to be THAT

I don't want to be a divorced woman.  I don't like the sound of it.  It sounds middle aged and plumpish. It sounds like soft shoes and new aches and pains.  It sounds like the best is behind you.  It sounds like saggy breasts and facial hair.  It sounds like you don't matter anymore because you #%# sure don't matter to him.  I am sad.  I cannot be that.  Divorced.  Well if I'm divorced he is a  #@!!%^&***!!  I just can't be that.  I'd rather be gay or fringe or anything but divorced!  I want the marriage to be annulled.  He never loved me and never wanted to be with me.  I want an annulment!!! And then I want to take a job in another part of the world and rewrite my story.  Divorce is an emotional tattoo.  It would be on my permanent record that I ever loved him. Oh, the shame!!!!

So I have these papers here, divorce papers.  He has slapped me with a dingy glove and I don't even have one to slap him back.  Duel you say?  On guard!!!  Do I get a lawyer?  With what?  Do I just let him have the divorce and take a lover and move on with my piece of life.   The divorce will happen.  Should I say anything at all?  Should I do anything at all?  525 miles isn't far enough.  It still hurts.  I wonder if 2,000 miles would feel better.   I feel like crying but I'm all out of those.  I don't want to be divorced.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

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Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Work Work Work

Well we have our first day off of school.  Our little earthquake frightened me horribly.  But as I told my students afterwards, "We now have a good story to tell."

Today I will send a few moments organizing my thoughts for the site and continuing to think on a name for it.  Although I hate to miss school at this point in the year there are always so many things I can get done.  I have to budget for Beto's food allergies.  The store I have to go to is not near my home and the food is expensive.  In a moment I will go sit out on the patio with my plants and organize my thoughts.

Monday, August 22, 2011

Ahhhhh

My feet hurt and I just want to sit in a hot bath.  My students this year are really going to keep my on my toes.  Day 1 and I have 1 desk written on and I had 1 eraser thrower.  I left all of my papers a mess I was so tired when I left.  It is 7pm and I am already getting ready for bed.

Back to Work

Back to work!  The wonderful thing about life is that everyday is a new beginning.  Today I will be aware.  I have decided to apply for graduate school next year and am really looking forward even to the whole application process as I forces me to focus my ambitions in order to sell myself.  My babies start school today too!!

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Kindergarten Orientation

Kindergarten orientation! Oh my! They lack the sweetness that I have always felt was required. I feel bad. Their time out is called the land of OZ or the Opportunity Zone. Orientation seem to be more of what they want from parents and less of what they are going to do for my children.
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Sunday, August 14, 2011

Fo-cus


Tonight I have to change gears.  I return to work tomorrow.  It works like this.  My job comes first so that I can continue to fulfill my financial responsibilities as a mother.  I hate that.  I vow to change it.  But it is what it is and I must focus on work.  As dusk turns into night I will be braiding my daughter's hair, thinking about the week's menu, choreographing the first few days of school in my head but not too much lest I be disappointed when they redirect me.  I square my shoulders and let go just a bit.  I am saddened by having to let go at all.  They will be fine.  You know I never wanted my children to just be fine.  I want them to be great and that requires my attention.  So as I shift into teacher mode.  I set aside a few moments to think about how to give them more.   When I get home from work I feel all used up.

Let the games begin!!!

Time

So I look in the mirror and I see this fat person and I wonder when she came into my life.  I don't like her.  I don't know if I liked her predecessor.  I will be rid of her.  My son's new food allergies should help since we will be eating differently.  I always felt like I was pretty careful about what I allowed the children to eat but now have have to be more careful still.

About a week ago a man said to me, "You have 7 children?!  How are you still skinny?.."  I said, "I don't feel skinny."  For just a minute I was fooled and really appreciated the compliment but I know that for my build I am fat.  

My alpha and my pen-ultimo (My oldest and almost youngest)  just came back from their run and are all bronzed and sweaty and here I am working out my fingers.  

Saturday, August 13, 2011

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Friday, August 12, 2011

Los resultados

La doctora llamo hoy sobre los ninos. Emil y Mateo estan bien pero hay 4 comidas que Beto no puede comer y estan en todo. El no puede comer mani, soya, huevos ni "wheat" olvido la palabra en espanol. Pobrecito, tengo que pensar en que el PUEDE comer. Pues, buenas noches.
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Thursday, August 11, 2011

So Proud

This summer has been relaxing and useful.  I have been able to look at myself and my life and make some decisions that should help.

My Isaac amazes me.  Not too long ago he went through something that brought out the mother tigress in me.  I wanted to fight to keep it all from him.  I wanted to protect him and was willing to take on the world.  Who knew that I would have been protecting him from his better self?  He is calm and focused and driven and kind.  He still has the energy and arrogance of youth but it has been tempered and he has direction.  To see a boy become a good man is miraculous.  Parents just do their best and keep talking and when it sinks in it is truly astounding.  ...or was it even something that I said??..