cause i was so bored and stress free

i've made a pretty big decision. i'm excited about it, but also nervous. i don't want to send my son back to that federally sanctioned prison they call an elementary school anymore. so, until i can get him into the local waldorf charter school, i'm going to homeschool him. yeah, i know. but here's the thing: he is brilliant. i know, i'm his mom, i'm supposed to think he's like that, but REALLY he is. he has an insatiable energy, he wants to know everything, he can see into people, he's just a really amazing person. and this fucking school is killing him. he thinks that nobody thinks he's good and he might as well be bad because they all think he's being bad anyway. he thinks that nobody likes him but at the same time thinks that it's better to have a lot of bad friends than one good friend. and the lots of bad friends are a gang of six boys who have major problems. he's just all messed up and it's all because he can't sit still for hours at a time. they don't allow them to run during recess. they don't allow them to play on the grass. during p.e., they have to stand still and do stuff like jumping jacks in place. my son wants to run and play and discover and learn, not be forced to sit still for 15 minutes after finishing his math papers in three minutes while the rest of the class tries to do theirs. so, anyway, i've decided to do this for him for the time being. i'll get all the information i can over the summer, try to build his self-esteem back up, and then jump in with two feet in august. there are a number of homeschool groups here, and there is a charter school in big sur that is homeschool based but has two classes a week that sounds really cool. plus, with me working nights, and him being at his dads every weekend, i never see the boy. i get to see him for 20 minutes on tuesday, wed and thurs nights, an hour on friday, and saturday morning. that's just not enough time. his dad is not hip to the idea, his first comment when i brought it up was "i'm working days now so i won't be able to help" wasn't promising, but i have the boy the brunt of the time and i'd actually like to be able to see him for some of it. so, big decision, but also a good one. i can tell cause it made my heart happy to think of doing all these things with him like i used to when he was little, and being able to be a direct influence on who he spends time with and what he learns and how he learns is something that he and i both need again. but, i guess i should put in the old disclaimer: talk to me after doing this for six monthes and i'll tell you if it was as good of an idea as i thought!!

anxiety

so last week, around 10:45 pm, a guy knocks on my door. i live on the most neighborhoodly street ever. all the neighbors are out a lot of the time, talking to eachother, waving, watching out for eachother. i've always felt so safe here. hell, i sit out on my porch at 2 in the morning having a smoke. anyway, this guy knocks on my door, and i thought it was a friend of my backyard neighbor needing something. i open the top of my dutch door, and he says "look at this" pointing out to the street. i said "what??" and he said "come look at this" walking a little further out on my porch. i turned my head to the left a little, peering out into the street. out of nowhere (or out of my bad blind spot on my right side) a guy in a ski mask jumps up, pointing a gun at me, saying "scream and i'll kill you," so of course, i screamed and slammed the door, locking it and calling the police all the while having the worst adrenaline rush and then freak out adrenaline let down ever. i don't think i've ever been so scared, except maybe when i've gotten in a few close calls while driving. i don't know what they wanted, if it was really a real gun, or what, but now i can't go out on my porch after dark. and i'm having a hard time sleeping. and i'm totally fucking paranoid that i'm going to die at my home. i keep telling myself that it was probably just some stupid punk kids trying to scare the single lady and that it wasn't a real gun, and that they'll never come back, but fuck. i hate not feeling safe on my own porch. i love sitting out on this porch in the middle of the night, with no traffic noise, listening to the ocean. i love being able to go to sleep knowing that all i have to worry about is getting up early. now, i can't go out on my porch after dark without having an anxiety attack, and i'm waking up with adrenalie rushes, almost screaming, from some unremembered trauma in my dreams. this fucking sucks. and i was feeling so happy too. so not depressed at all, and energetic, and hopeful. now i just feel blah again, all because some punks thought they'd get a laugh. it's not fair. i've been a victim of crime twice before. once when my car was stolen, with my house keys and driver's license in the car (scary) and once when some guy tried to take advantage of me when i was passed out in a friends bed (also scary, but i woke up and chased him out and never went back there again.) obviously i got over those incidents, but i've not had anything like this happen in or near my home. i really don't know what to do with this. is it something that will go away with time? am i supposed to learn something from this besides the fact that some people are just evil little assholes? am i supposed to become hypersensitive (or stay the way that i am now forever) and always carry pepper spray in my right hand at the ready and not go out of my house after dark ever again (interesting to think of considering i get home from work way after dark)? i don't know. obviously i'm rambling. on another note, i've not wanted a boyfriend more in my life than i did that night.

mother's day

usually, mother's day sucks for me. i've always had these visions of getting a mother's day like the ones they have on tv. waking up late to the sounds of my man and my boy making me breakfast in bed, lazing around in bed for an hour and then getting presents. presents that include jewelry and a spa gift certificate. then my man saying "honey, i'm taking the boy to the park, you go get a massage and your nails done. relax and have fun and i love you for being the best mom ever." and then of course, he surprises me by getting a babysitter and takes me out for some swank dinner with champagne and promises to do things to me that will make my eyes roll back when we get home. is that so much to ask, really?

anyway, enough with the fantasy land. it's not going to be like that for me who knows how long, so i have to make due with what i have. in the past, my son has been with his dad (visitation, split custody, yada yada), and his dad will bring the boy over to give me flowers or something, they hang out for about 20 minutes, and then i'm miserable and figure going to work can only make it worse, right?? i always thought that since i didn't have my son, i should just work anyway, but then when i got there i would be totally miserable and unhappy and grouchy. so last year i took the day off and did nothing by myself. this year, i decided i wanted to actually spend some time with my son on mother's day. you should have seen the look the ex gave me. "i'm going to go to big sur with my mom in the afternoon, and i want to take the boy." "oh....ok.....i was going to take him to see my mom and granny in the afternoon.........but i'll change my plans." you see, this is the thing with my ex. he is one of those charming individuals who think that the world does in fact revolve around them. he cannot fathom that i would have the gall to make plans that might impact him in the least. he also cannot comprehend when i stand up for myself and not let him walk all over me. and, of course, he's a man so he gets jealous and totally weird if there's even a whiff of another man in my life. you should have seen the shit storm i had to deal with when i went away with the fiasco for the weekend. holy crap. i think there were actually threats of police involvement that time.

anyway, so i call the ex and tell him 1 o'clock or so, and get my mom steered in the right direction (the woman has no sense of time at all) and go over there. the ex doesn't show up with the boy until 2 (grrrrr, passive aggressive bullshit) and we finally hit the road at 2:30. we stopped in carmel for cheese and deli stuff, and head on down to big sur. MY GOD, it was beautiful. i love this place. just freaking love it. it was a perfect temperature, low 70's, good for top being down but not too hot, it was mostly clear, and not that crowded. we went to the cutest little beach with purple sand, and set up a little camp, around four o'clock. my son was being so damn cute. he was trying to help with everything, and brought along a little tent of his own. he told me to sit down and he would take care of everything "cause it's mother's day, mom." he put that tent together like a pro. then he gets this wild hair and decides he wants to start a fire with sticks. my mom and i were humoring him, and told him to get some dry grass and small twigs, and we were going to leave it at that. and he rubbed those sticks together a long time, and got really into it, but no one has the patience to start a fire like that, especially a 7 year old boy. but then i thought, what the hell, let's have us a beach campfire. i got some napkins and shred them up, piled everything up, whipped out my trusty bic, and wala!! fire on the beach. he kept scurrying around, gathering wood, and i was head fire keeper. my mom and he went off to search for the best rocks and gatherings of purple sand, and i just sat on the beach, relaxing and tending the (home)fire. it was one of those perfect days. almost no trouble out of the boy, i was entertained but not overly so (i tend to get bored when i try to do something like that with my son. because he'll either be all over me trying to get me to do what he's doing, or totally ignoring me. he was just right this time.) i was relaxed and fed good food, and my boy was just precious, and of course it's so nice to spend a day with my mom. we don't get to do it often enough. so, evidently, there are other perfect mother's days to be had than the one they put on tv.

quote of the day from my boy: "if we have a tent and a pot, everything else we need is in nature, mom. everything else."

we ended up having so much fun, and didn't bring watches or anything, that when we asked someone for the time, it was shocking to find it was 7 o'clock. we had to get back for survivor (my mom is addicted) and then the day was over. i came home, drank some wine, starting knitting a friends scarf, and went to bed happy and relaxed. a damn good day.

it was just...meh

so, i got a little crazy the other night and decided i needed to get laid before i hit the six month mark. and by decided i mean i was out and there was a guy who was making me laugh and i thought, what the hell. cause i'm a girl who likes sex and when i want it, i want it and i just don't care what others may think or say. commonly referred to as a whore in this culture, but whatever, i prefer being thought a whore than a spinster. so we go back to my house, kiss a little, good chemistry, once he got the go from me he was surprisingly aggressive (in a good way) and we go the bed. oh my god. it was so disapointing. it wasn't tiny or anything, but sonofabitch, what is WITH the small dicks lately? i swear all the damn men i've slept with in the last year, with the exception of the fiasco and one other guy, had small dicks. they weren't even big enough to be called cocks, for fucks sake. what is going on? is it a conspiracy to get me to stop liking sex and preferring my rabbit to men altogether? a giant cosmic joke to give me some of the best sex ever with the most emotionally immature and unavailable guy i've met in years? is someone trying to tell me something? it just can't be right that such a concentration of small dicks can befall one woman, unless i've just been the luckiest little whore in the world and had big ones up until one year ago. and then, because they know they don't have the biggest ones in the room (cause, yeah, um, HI, my normal size vibrator was a good inch at least bigger than him), they have to do all this crazy shit. i haven't had sex in six months man, do not try to fuck me like a professional acrobat. i do not need to be flipped around every five seconds, i do not need you to pound away on me forever, i do not need you to do really anything else cause it's just not going to happen. i'm sorry, it's just not. you just go to sleep now and i'm gonna finish up the job with my rabbit, cause this is just SO NOT WORKING. jesus, my whole body hurts today, two days later, cause of all the acrobatic shit this guy wanted to do. and, while i totally love the validation, i know i give great hummers. i do not need you to tell me it was the best one you've ever had FIFTEEN TIMES. really, once, maybe twice is fine. REALLY. for the love of god, what does a girl have to do to get a good man with a nice cock and a some sexual talent around here? i'm going to go out and buy like 10 cats and just knit all day and become the spinster i so dread if this shit keeps up.

ummm...knitting

yes, knitting. stop snickering. seriously, stop it. i'm serious. i am TOTALLY ADDICTED TO KNITTING*. i was reading crazy aunt purls blog, purely for the laugh factor, a while ago (and when i say laugh factor, i mean laughing with her, not at her. i love you purl!!). then, i started to really get in to her life, and totally empathized with her divorce struggles. then, i'm in the craft store with my son using a gift certificate he got for his birthday (my son is seven. let's just all take a moment. HOLY CRAP, i don't know how that happened, but there it is.) and i was thinking about purl and i thought, what the hell, let's see what all the fuss is about. oh my GOD, i love it!!! it is so fun and relaxing (once i got over the hump known as how in the hell do you do this???) and i just finished, well, almost finished, my first project. a really challenging item known as a scarf. yes, pipe down, i know it's starting to be summer. and i know that it will be warm and there will be absolutely no need for scarves for the next six months, but dammit i made one anyway. it's for my son, and it's red baby alpaca and it's just so so luxurious and soft and yummy. i went to the yarn store (!!) yesterday and spent $85 on yarn. i know shutup, the point is, i got a hank of baby alpaca yarn and made a scarf out of it for only $12.99. try getting an alpaca scarf for that much in any store. i dare you!! it just won't happen.

*a note from my ass: why can you not get addicted to something cool like exercise?? why oh why are all the things you really like to do sedentary (except sex of course)? reading, computering, knitting, watching tv...notice a pattern here, j? all of those things require you to be sitting still on me for hours at a time. i know you're not really into going out these days, and exercise can be a pain in me, but for the LOVE of GOD, will you just do something about this? i want to be small and cute and perky again, PLEASE. i'm just saying is all. you have the gazelle, so PUT DOWN THE KNITTING NEEDLES and put the damn thing together and let's jump on there and burn some damn calories.