new year, new you, letting go

It's not as simple as all that, is it? Revolutions, evolutions, resolutions. The tick of the clock to 12:00:01. How I wish that I could scrinch my face up like adorable Hiro from Heroes and make all the things I wish I could change about my life done in an instant. New year, new you. Letting go of the horror that has been 2008 without letting a drop of its dirt sully the unmarred beauty of 2009, the carte blanche we all envision coming to us with the movement of the second hand.

My new year doesn't start until sometime around my 30th birthday. For the day before, on July 13th, the trial begins, wherein I battle for the right to my child. It is fitting this year that my birthday falls on Bastille Day, the French version of our Independence Day. I'd hoped to celebrate my 30th birthday in Paris, watching fireworks shoot from le Tour d'Eiffel and pretending they were just for me and my new decade. However, I'll be in the courtroom with a different kind of fireworks. People tell me I could go the next year, and yes, I can, I suppose, but it won't be the same.

Anyway, 2009 approacheth, and for the reasons laid out above, when my friends invited me to the Seattle Bash, I was less than thrilled. $65 for entry to a party with thousands of Seattlites? Um, hmm. No thanks. I'd much rather spend the money on a nice spread and have friends over. But they'll be there. I'll be on my couch. Alone. And that's okay, because my crappy year clock doesn't stop ticking for another six and a half months.

You can bet your bottom dollar that I'll party my socks off when that final gavel bangs. And you're invited, and you, and you, and you. We'll drink champagne, the best I can afford on my lawyer fee depleted income, because then there will a new year, a new me. I'm sure of it.

Need advice STAT

So, I'll be in touch about that other thing, but first, I need your help.

I am Audrey's mother, and the Swine's wife is Audrey's stepmother, and it works out that she spends more time with Audrey than anyone, isn't that great? Uh....

Anyway, so there is an issue of names here. The other day I was on the phone with Audrey, and we'd been talking for a while, because she was really missing me, so I decided to read her the story of the Tailor's Helpers. While I was reading to her, I could hear the Swine call, "Audrey, are you still on the phone with Rebecca?" His use of my first name startled me. I never call him "Sam" to Audrey - it's always Dad or Daddy, always.

I just set up an email address for Audrey, so the dark side has been emailing her. And the stepmom signed hers Her Name (Warrior Princess) Momma. And then in an email from the Swine, he said, "me and Momma will pick you up..." I couldn't believe my eyes.

I'm Audrey's Momma. The Swine has completely stripped me of being her mother, mom, momma, mommy, and now I'm just Rebecca. The Warrior Princess is now Momma? No wonder the poor girl is confused. No wonder she is having trouble figuring out who her real mother is. Because at his house, I'm not her mother at all. He has stripped me of that respect.

Audrey called Steve "Papa." But only after I called the Swine up and asked for his permission. I never would have let Audrey call Steve something the Swine didn't approve of - I give him that respect (though God knows he doesn't deserve it, hence the blog nickname). And Audrey certainly never called Sam "Papa," never has, never will. Completely different sound and starting letter from dad, daddy, father.

I know that the Warrior Princess doesn't respect my place in Audrey's life. She colored my daughter's hair - she wanted to color it purple, but Audrey said no. So I ask you, who colors the hair of a 6-year-old, much less one that has never shown interest in coloring her hair before? I'll tell you! A woman who wants to stick it to the real mother, that's who. They didn't call me to ask if it was okay, to notify me that they were doing it, or even to let me know after the fact. She just came home with streaks in her hair. Seriously?!? Oh, she also cut this weird style into my daughter's hair, which I immediately took to my aunt to fix. The Warrior Princess then had the gall to tell Audrey that I cut the "cool" part out of her hair! Boils my blood, that woman does. She's never shown an ounce of respect for the fact that I'm Audrey's mom. Because as far as she and the Swine are concerned, Audrey's new Momma is the Warrior Princess, and I'm an unnecessary hindrance to their plans to turn my daughter into one of them.

Anyway, this whole Momma thing is really, really, really bothering me. Can you tell? I need to know. Am I being unreasonable because I can't stand the woman that has never made an effort to connect or show respect for the fact that Audrey already has a mommy? Should I just let it go because Audrey loves the Warrior Princess and oh, isn't it special that she gets to call her momma? The Swine gave a reason that her stepbrother calls the Warrior Princess Mom, and the new kid calls her mom, so Audrey would be the only child that doesn't GET to. Bah. Audrey calls the Swine dad, and the new kid does too, but bet you a million the stepbrother doesn't call him Dad, making him the only kid that doesn't GET to. Wonder how he deals with the blow of not being able to call someone who is not his dad, dad? The mystery of it all. Help!!

Am I being unreasonable?

Falalalala Merry Christmas

Settling in

Making myself back at home in the work of blogging has proved a little challenging for me. While the writing companion in my brain has been largely silent for 18 months, it is now in overdrive, coming up with posts spanning the entire period. And while I wish that I had time to write all of the entries, I also find myself wishing that I didn't have the fear of the Swine reading my writing and finding some way to use it against me.

So I don't know if I CAN continue at the url after all. Deep sigh. Email me.

In other news, Seattle has been blanketed in snow since Wednesday night. And I have been in heaven for just as long. I seriously heart snow. Adore it. I don't, however enjoy driving in snow. And it is for that reason that I haven't driven since it snowed. It doesn't help that my driveway is a veritable mountain slope, and my useless property managers haven't come by to salt, sand or shovel. It's now a slick slab of ice.

So we've been walking everywhere, and I love it. I walk a lot around Bellevue already; that's why I live where I do, but the best part of about walking everywhere when it snows is that there are tons of other people walking as well. And people talk to each other and smile at each other and it is all very shocking.

Living in the Seattle area is to live in the land of the cold shoulder. There ain't no Southern hospitality here, y'all. Sure Seattlites are nice people, but unapproachable is one of the pick-3-describe-Seattle-residents words. It's one of the reason dating is so hard in Seattle, and the reason I was so surprised when a couple of youths said hello, how are you as I walked down Belelvue Way. Youths usually shuffle, heads down, only talking to people they know, only referencing the unknown around them to make fun of it. They giggle and look not-so-furtively in your direction. They don't smile and ask how you're doing. But then they do when there is snow on the ground.

We smiled at passersby, we merry band of three, and they smiled at us, nodded heads, told us to have fun, in reference to the red sled we pulled behind us. And have fun we did, where, at the Downtown Park in Bellevue, we found an untouched hill of powdery snow and sled on our bottoms, backs, stomachs and feet before trudging to the grocery store for such necessities as marshmallows and rice krispies, and then on to home for some hot cocoa and more DVRed Christmas specials.

I hear snow.

"What a Creep"

Dealing with the Swine has proved the greatest challenge of my adult life. Every day a new struggle. Remember back in January of 2006 when I was surprised with court papers? Well fast forward to August of 2008 and it was much the same. Only this time, I wasn't as surprised. When someone does something so dastardly once, one can hardly put it past them to repeat such dark actions.

And so it was that I was served with papers at my last job. Papers full of deep, dark allegations and which brought to light a betrayal by the one that once inspired me to write that I would never love another. The Swine had started gathering his "wow great dad" declarations in March, but it wasn't until Steve, with whom I'd been struggling until I finally had to break up with him, gave the Swine just the lies he needed to seal the deal on his second grand attempt to remove me from Audrey's life. From accusing me of having an eating disorder to beating Steve (um, what?), the Swine's court papers described a person I didn't even know, much less be.

By breaking up with Steve, I'd made him hate me, by going to Wynn's wedding then staying the weekend with my mother, I sent him over the edge. Convinced that I'd run away with some dude from Cabo, he contacted the Swine and filled his ears with everything the Swine could hope for. And of course, rather than questioning it, the Swine built it into his case, and it was a nightmare of epic proportions.

That the Swine was trying to figure a way to get Audrey and that Steve had a mental and emotional breakdown at the same time was a coincidence that I'd never have foreseen. But as is the norm, I was concentrating on one challenge while ignoring the sleeping giant. So all of a sudden I was confronted with challenges on all fronts: job, boyfriend, ex-husband, and more.

Getting rid of Steve was a blessing. There was a reason I couldn't bring myself to marry him, and I'd always cited the horror of the ex that is Swine as the prevention for my wedding again. I'm not sure if that is the complete reason, but whatever it is, I dodged the second divorce bullet. And I'm completely free. But it is so hard to believe that someone that I'd loved so much could be so bitter that they would be compelled to actions that not only harm me, but an innocent 7-year-old as well.

There is no getting rid of the Swine, however. And dealing with him and this everlasting case has become like a second job, a constant struggle. Compounded to that is the child herself. The struggle she herself is going through is heartbreaking, and no matter how much I reach out to the Swine, he maintains his horrid manner with me.

I can handle going through this trial, because I pray at the end of this Audrey will indeed be the recipient of a schedule that actually works for her and not her father. But what I can't handle is my daughter's heartbreak that her life is split between two completely different worlds - worlds that have no intermingling at all.

I helped coach my daughter's soccer team this past fall. The Swine was there nearly every Saturday. He said maybe one word to me despite my attempts to reach out to him and have a civil conversation. And on and on to school events, social events - we stand at opposite ends of the room and the tension is palpable.

He married that daycare worker by the way. She quit her job after she was knocked up (they had a healthy baby boy - how nice for them) and they got hitched. Now she's practically my daughter's stay-at-home mom. No, I don't care for her. Even before they married, she was cold to me whenever I'd pick Audrey up. She never even gave me a chance, and tonight my daughter was crying because she is confused about who her real mother is (drive a stake through my heart) and the two people that care for her the most are too different and aren't even friends. I tried, but the Swine always prevented us from talking, even though she was caring for my daughter after school. Tension has been the order of all of our relationships ever since my return from England.

When I told my mom tonight about Audrey's struggles, she brought up that trip to England. As if that would help things. I have no Steve, and I have no Oliver. I struggle to maintain my rights to my daughter. My reasons for going to England no longer exist, but the repercussions of that trip will affect Audrey for years to come, and I say Audrey because she was the one crying tonight. And I told my mom about how the Swine closed the door on my face this afternoon when I picked up Audrey. He never said a word to me. "What a creep," she said.

Yep, that about sums it up.

Existence

I've missed blogging. 18 months is a long time, and it's been on my mind, but I've stayed away for a lot of reasons. The Swine being probably the largest reason. The Swine who is too dumb to even know the name refers to him. The Swine who was my friend, but who betrayed me and lied to his daughter. The Swine who would that I did not exist, and has, in his mind found a preferable replacement. I'm superfluous, expendable. We're currently embroiled in a bitter battle, because fortunately for Audrey, I don't agree with his biases.

So this isn't about him or her. It's about me. I am the narcissist, after all. Except that doesn't really describe me, because my every thought and action is for my daughter. But it does describe who I am on this blog, so I'll continue in a vein that is true to my initial charter. I will no longer be bullied out of something that I love, on a forum to which I feel a connection, because of some sicko's misguided vendetta (yes, I mean you) and attempts to use things he doesn't comprehend against me. FYI crushed skull is metaphor for desire for counter pressure to counteract sinus pressure. Capeesh?

Wow, I'm surprised how wonderful it feels to be back. I haven't written, really written, since my last entry here. And my fingers and mind have been itching to connect to the keyboard. Hours at the piano exercise both, but doesn't provide either a release from the thoughts and words that pile up in this mind of mine.

I'm still reeling from everything I've gone through since I started blogging in July 2004. And I'm sad that I trusted people that I trusted, married the person that I married. Thought the best of the people I thought the best of. I've been punished for the actions of others, some have punished me for their own actions. I could have been stronger, but at the end of all of this, I'll emerge less innocent, less trusting, harder and more cynical.

But my heart is not there yet. I teared up today reading the blog of an old blogger friend. She just had her first baby on Sunday. A beautiful healthy boy. I didn't expect the tears. I thought the ache had dissipated enough. But contrary to my mind's belief, the grief hasn't gone away. Though Steve and I are no more, the longing for my son carries on. The impact of those twelve days surprise me.

I'm at a new job now where no one knows of Steve or Oliver. If I want, they can just never be a part of who I am again, and it's weird to be just the mother of one, to have no son to anyone but me and Audrey. He is nothing to no one.

I didn't mean to write about him tonight. I didn't have a plan though, and I like the lack of pressure. While I have no idea who might still have me bookmarked or subscribe to my feed, the thought of no one or everyone being out there is soothing. And while I wouldn't be surprised if he still follows, I hope not. I don't want him to be the only one I write to. I rather no one than him. But I could have found a new url, a new blog. So if he is the only one:

Hi, Swine, wish you weren't here.

the giant ampersand

When I dropped Steve at work Saturday morning, it was already quite warm, and in my mind, there is nothing like a hot and sunny weekend to erase, if temporarily, Swine induced stress. Over the bridge I went with Green Lake in my sights. I love Green Lake – it is probably my most blogged about Seattle locale. Sure there are a million trails on the eastside, but nothing beats its circularity and peopleful path for a fun-filled excursion of leaping over dogleashes and cooing at the adorable offspring donning the latest Tutti Bella in the newest McClaren. Babies are everywhere and if there is a patch missing a baby, there is a woman one breath away from screaming for an Epidural, so help me God! Some days all this baby, baby everywhere and not a one for me atmospherics is more than I can handle, but this day I can only smile happily for the blessed and enjoy my flat belly and the exercise and sunshine.

After I’m done, I head to my mother’s house, so she can douse my head in hair dye, which she succeeds in painting all over my face. I leave looking a wee bit violet, Violet. Damn mahogany tint!

I’ve decided to play tourist, so my sister and I drive to downtown Seattle and park just north of my soon-to-be-former office and walk to the water front and north toward the Olympic Sculpture Park. Upon our arrival at the fountain near the entrance, I marveled at how beautiful the day was – the sunny sparkled so fantastically off the naked man holding his arms out to the naked boy. I call this one “Public Pedophilia.” As Kiki and I giggled for the first of many times that day, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see two young guys standing there grinning goofily holding up a cell phone in askance.

“My friend here was wondering if he could take a picture of you with his cell phone,” the taller, less goofy one asked. Hmm, strike one for my ego. So they took their picture, and I took one as well, because we had to, duh. Then the tall guy said he needed a picture with me because I’m taller. Well, at least that’s something. He gave me a big smooch on my cheek, which I wasn’t expecting at all and why all of my teeth, tonsils and esophagus are showing. Then he asked if I wanted some of his Pepsi. No, thanks! He confided that it was actually whiskey, the liquid courage necessary for him to be talking to us right now. That explained the breath. They were from Portland, they explained and didn’t know anyone, had never been to Seattle, and were looking for fun. So after they harassed us to hang out with them that evening, despite my protests that having a boyfriend makes such a thing impossible, we escaped from their company. Who knows I’m probably on some MySpace page somewhere now along with the rest of the day’s gallery, so heh, heh, heh, they’re now a part of mine.

Now, I’m all for sculpture. Yes, sculpture’s nice. Have you ever seen the David? Well, I haven’t, not in person anyway, but I’m told it’s magnificent. You can stand in it’s wonder in awe of the artistry and the craftsmanship. Same with the Venus, and well, what do you know, I’ve exhausted my sculpture knowledge. Moving along. I know sculpture is not just a piece of marble chipped away until it looks more like fabric than fabric does, but take a look at the images below. High-brow art or Fisher Price on a grand scale? Behold the typewriter eraser, the giant neon ampersand, the Lincoln logs, the big silver tree, which looks like a wooden tree that’s been spray painted.
I can’t stare in awe of the mastery of some over-sized building block no matter how hard I try.

So we had fun taking pictures of each other and laughing at the “art.” These pictures remind me of how little alike we look. Strange.




And I wonder, if you were commissioned for a piece of the work for this Sculpture Park, what would you make? I think I’d make a giant date stamp, complete with that satisfying cachunk sound.

Tomorrow - our trip to the Pike Place Market Festival.

I'll just call the police

Steve was going to take the day off, but his clients were coming in, and his news that he would not be home until late dampened my mood more than it should. It would be dinner à sole once again. I tried not to let it show when I returned from Rite-Aid where I’d gone to stock up on treats to continue my week of spoiling my coworkers, but Mary, the one who’s been diagnosed with a serious type of cancer and has been undergoing so much besides, asked me if I was okay, and when I said I was, asked if I was lying. I had to shake myself. I’ve been so stressed out over the Swine that little things bring me down farther than they should, so I decided it was time to try to talk to the Swine about the daycare situation, so we could settle that issue at the very least.

After work, as I soaked up the luscious, warm, rare rays of the sun while I slowly made my way toward the bus stop, I pulled my phone out of my LeSportSac (are those even cool?) and dialed him hoping he’d ignore my call, so I could leave him a voicemail asking him if we could talk later about everything. But to my chagrin, he picked up just as I was crossing the street in front of Cost Plus World Market. I sighed and asked him if he would have time to talk later, and then a bus hit me, and I floated up to heaven never to hear his voice again, because the Lord and I both know he won’t be meeting me up there, and you’ll know it too after I share the rest of his diabolical ways.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Well, I just wanted to see if you could talk. Later.” I stressed the last word, but he pressed. “Okay, I, uh, I just got a job offer in Redmond that I couldn’t refuse and as a result, it won’t really work for me to continue to take Audrey to the daycare here in downtown Seattle. I just got her a space at the daycare she used to go to before, which incidentally she has been asking repeatedly to return to, as you know it is only a couple of blocks from my apartment, so she won’t have to be at daycare as long. And as an added bonus, if she ends up at school in Bellevue, they will pick her up from school everyday, so we wouldn’t have to worry about it, isn’t that great?” I had gushed in all in one breath when I realized that my speech was met with silence. “Hello? … Are you still there? … Hello?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said slowly. “I don’t want Audrey to go to school in Bellevue. And it’s not my fault that you moved to Bellevue or that you took a job in Redmond. Those were choices you made, which you have to be responsible for, so that’s really not my problem.”

“You would really want Audrey to have to travel all that way unnecessarily?”

“You agreed that she would go to school there, so that’s where she’ll go.”

I was trying desperately to keep my cool, but, “Yes, and you agreed that I could move to London – sometimes things change.” Yeah, I totally went there. Ugh.

“Uh huh. And it’s written in the court documents that she has to go there, and that’s the way it going to be.”

“Can you please give me one good reason why she couldn’t go to the daycare near me just when she with me?”

“I don’t have to. It’s in the paperwork.”

I stood stuck on the phone on the verge of tears in the middle of Pike Place Market in front of the vegetable vendor from whom I wanted to purchase a few carrots for the Thai chicken red curry that I intended to make for dinner. No matter how I put it, he was unwilling to budge, no amount of appealing to his sense of reason and logic (yeah, I know, what reason and logic, and for that matter, what sense?) broke through, and I could stand it no more, so just before clicking the off key, I snapped, “Sue me then, I’m taking her to that daycare.”

I bought 35¢ worth of carrots, and the vendor said, “That’s it? That’s an awfully long phone call for a couple carrots.”

“Never have an ex-husband,” I shot back.

“You’re too young to have a husband.”

“Don’t I wish,” I said stuffing the bag of carrots into my sac and considering telling this guy just how terrible ex-husbands can be, but alas, he moved on to the next customer, so his chance to be regaled with the miseries of a broken woman was sadly lost. I carried on slowly toward First Avenue. Soon I got my phone out of my bag and noticed a voicemail from Sam. I nearly burst into tears right there after listening to this, “If you take her to that daycare and I find out about it, there will be no suing. I won’t go through the courts, I’ll just call the cops. It doesn’t get simpler than that.”

Oh. How was I to react to that? I carried on down First Avenue past one, two, three bus stops, until I’d gone a mile through crowds and crazies, tourists and yuppies. I sniffed, wiped a tear, and forwarded the voicemail to Steve with the message, “This is what I am dealing with.” Not that he doesn’t already know, but he doesn’t often get to hear it for himself.

I got on the bus a few minutes later and tried to figure out what to do. I tried to understand what would motivate him to make life so pointlessly difficult for me and even for Audrey. I tried to contrive a game plan. What was there to do? What to do? What should I do? What would you do? What would you do?