Funk-be-gone!

So.  It's well past time for me to pull myself up by my bra straps and get out of this funk.

Mind, it's not really a funk about him, though he plays a part in it.  It's more a culmination of being in limbo again as far as where my life is going and what I'm going to be when I grow up, the children and their health and well being, and dissatisfaction with my personal life.

Right now I have an awesome job.  It's nothing fancy, it's sure as hell not glamorous, but it's something I can do and do well, to the point of going home *happy* knowing that I've completed my tasks to the best of my ability, and I truly did an excellent job.  However... there's always a however, it's not something I can or will do for the rest of my life.  I want more.  I want to know that I'm not just doing my job, I'm helping out in the world.  This job could lead to that job.  More limbo, though, as it'll take me quite a bit of time to get there.  I want it, though.  Good god, readers... I want it so much it hurts.  I just don't quite know how to go about finally getting it.

The children are well overall.  Kinder Major has been diagnosed as epileptic, for official and all.  We're on the medication rollercoaster now, and it's wearing me out.  Kinder Major doesn't particularly like the ride, nor does she like the fact that I now watch her like a hawk for signs of seizures.  Helmets are more strictly enforced, and there are days when I'm hesitant to even brush her hair.  She's missed a fair bit of school over this, as well.  I'm keenly aware that it could be worse, though, so I'm thankful daily that it's not.

Bug is doing alright.  Health wise he's perfect, it's his development that I worry for.  I cannot count the number of times I've been asked if he is autistic.  He's not.  He communicates, but doesn't talk, per se.  He has words, but they're still not crystal clear, and most people cannot decipher them, and mistake his speaking for babble.  He also signs to us, and does a good job at it.  He understands EVERYTHING, and is the most social, happy little man.  That doesn't keep me from worrying that he's developed a fibroid in the communication center of the brain, though.  I haven't brought it up to neuro yet - I've been sitting on it, trying to decide if I'm just being a worry wart or if there may be something to the idea.  I'm still unsure.  I wish I had some sort of magic 8-ball for him.

My personal life. Ooooh my personal life.  As you know, Pater Pueri and I have split.  That has left me sad, but I refuse to pine over him, and I'm pretty well moved on.  What makes me sad is that we had this life planned out, we told Kinder Major all about our plans, and now it's been snatched out from under her.  She's left angsty, and I'm left seething over her unhappiness.

As far as what I'm doing now that I'm a free agent... well, I'm looking but not looking hard.  I'm leaving myself open to the universe and whomever may come along. It's interesting to allow myself to openly admire and flirt with another person again, after so long of not being able to, or not wanting to.  It's kind of nice to think about making plans with someone just to get to know them.  While I'm enjoying things, I'm still somewhat intimidated.  I never dated well.  Just ask any of my high school flings.  I wasn't about the dating so much. =P

So that's our lives right now, world.  How are yours?

What to do?

My post on Thursday centered on coping with the reality that is the other half of a blended family moving further than the other side of town.  Compromise is KEY, I said.  Open mind is KEY, I said.

Today, dear readers, I am not taking the high road.  Chalk it up to the migraine, the cramps from Hell, or even just a pissy mood, but understand this: I'm about to bitch and complain.
 b
StepMC and I spoke a while back, when we learned first that StepMC was hauling across country.  I asked he+999-r if we could get the children together more often than just Pater Puerii's weekends, so that they could spend what time they had left together more often.  Her response... heh.  Hang on a moment, I need to mentally break a glass against a wall out of frustration.

Anyway, her response to me was non-committal.  However, in the next sentence, she stated "I'd like them to have as much time as possible but if she gets used to seeing [Blueberry Nights], it may be harder when we move."

Now, that sentence is one big oxymoron, is it not?

She has been utterly unable to accommodate even a single play date with the children, but she has been able to move heaven and earth to spend as much time as possible with a playmate visiting from Australia.

Hold please, taking another moment to close my eyes and imagine myself throwing another glass against a wall.

She and I loathe each other.  There is no secrecy to that.  But Jesus God, you'd think that she'd make more of an effort for her daughter's sake, wouldn't you?  Though, this isn't the first time her duplicity, lies, insanity and false promises have had a direct affect on my child.  I can't imagine the hell it is on Pater Pueri to know that the woman who stole years from his other daughter is once again depriving her and throwing her love in the trash.  Pater Pueri and I have no love lost on StepMC, since I have never liked her and he has never loved her.  She can't hurt us in that way.  Kinder Major, though, she hurts to the core.  Over and over.  I don't lie to my child when she asks why she doesn't get to see Blueberry Nights as much as she briefly did.  I have explained that there is a difference between the adults, and StepMC is quite busy and unable to balance things any better.  Even with that neutral explanation, though, Kinder Major comes to her own conclusions, and they're often correct.

I just lost my train of thought.  Probably for the best.  One can only bitch so much in one day, you know?

Happy Birthday, Blueberry Nights! (A little bit late.)

Ladies of Light
and
Ladies of Darkness
and 
Ladies 
of 
Never-
You-
Mind-

This is a prayer for a Blueberry Girl.


First, may you Ladies be kind.

Keep 
her 
from 
Spindles 
and 
Sleeps 
at Sixteen

Let her
stay
Waking
and
Wise.


This is a prayer for a Blueberry Girl.


(Poem excerpt from "Blueberry Girl" by Neil Gaiman, Illustrated by Charles Vess)