Sunday, January 31, 2010

Library time...

I took the boys to the library tonight.

I'm wondering now whether the librarians will ever forgive me for that.

My preschooler was fascinated by the button which made the door swing open for the handicapped (or for those with their hands full of books), and he kept pushing it while I was trying to help his brother find a book or DVD. The librarians had to speak up several times to remind him not to play with the button. I had to physically go remove him from the button--- or the doorway--- each time. *^_^*

Older Son, on the other hand, was impossible to please. He had his heart set on the Dora the Explorer video he spotted upon entrance to the library, and was crestfallen when I pointed out we have no VCR upon which to play it. Since he couldn't have that, he wanted another DVD... and this was the tricky part. There was nothing which caught his interest in that particular branch.

He insisted on looking through the card catalog (which nowadays is computerized), and, after much unproductive searching, was disheartened to learn that anything available in this branch was already on the shelf... which we'd already scoured. So then he started to wander the library, looking to see what else was available.

This would not normally be an issue... except that his little brother chose at that time to start following him wherever he went. And this did not sit well with our young hero.

"Stop following me!" Dart to another area... shadow only a few steps behind him.

"STOP FOLLOWING ME! Mom, make him stop!!" And he was off to another section, followed swiftly by the inquisitive bother... I mean, brother.

I sighed and checked out my books, then went to where I last saw them... in the vault.

Side note: This branch apparently used to be a bank branch, complete with a vault. The mighty door, a foot thick, stands permanently open, welded in place so that no one will be locked inside.

Or so we all thought.

I found my boys there... with a smoky glass door between them.

A locked glass door, with my older son on the inside.

I stood there, gently pushing on the door (I didn't want to break the door) as a librarian came up... and she let out a quiet exclamation of concern. "Where did that door come from?!?" she asked.

I shrugged, somewhat amazed that she worked there and didn't know it existed. I didn't know where it came from, either. Before she'd walked up, I'd guessed that it slid down, as there was space under the bottom... and then I realized that there was also space over the top, which invalidated that idea.

"But how did it get locked?" was her next question.

Again, I didn't know the answer.

But my Squid did.

"I turned the little knob here," he said, pointing. And he just stood there.

Typical Squid.

Slightly exasperated, I told him, "Then unlock it!" So he reached up and did so.

The librarian and I pushed the door open, and as I hurried my boys back out, she wondered aloud, "But where did it come from? I've never seen it before!"

Older Son piped up again: "It was back against that wall."

The librarian told me there used to be a small table there, which apparently held the door back so that no one noticed it. She sent her coworker to look, because she, too, hadn't known it existed before my boy decided to lock himself into the vault... just to escape his little brother.

I seriously wonder if they're going to remember us when we come back... or if they'll run for cover.

Friday, January 29, 2010

Trust....

Question: How do you depend upon a support system which does not trust you?

Answer: you don't. You can't.

I guess I really can't post more than that. I can't afford to burn bridges which are ---so far--- still standing.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Skunked!

We were skunked, not twenty minutes ago.

>.<

o.O

It started out an early night, with my tucking in both boys at 9:15pm--- very early, considering the younger boy, age three, usually catches a late nap and is then up until midnight. I was groggy from my allergy meds (taken to help dry up my nose from the cold my older son generously gave me last week), and I received a phone call. I tried to keep it short, in an attempt to keep the younger son in a sleeping mood, but then the older boy, age eight, kept getting out of bed and sneaking around. I gave in and let him join the two of us in my somewhat empty king-sized bed. Lucy, our Schnoodle, was also in the jumble, snuggled under the covers between us.

Then that dreadful squalling began.

I knew exactly what it was, because I've heard it before... almost always just before that awful, peppery stench starts seeping upward into the house. It's a real-life nightmare, one I hope I never experience in my sleep.

Then Lucy heard it and scrambled out of the covers to investigate, followed by my preschooler. I knew there was no danger, so I stayed in bed, trying to ignore it... until my second-grader piped up.

"Mom, Danny's making noise."

Deep breath. "No, dear. That's not Danny. That's the skunk."

"But he's doing this:" and he demonstrates.

"Sweetheart, that is the skunk."

By this time the blasted skunk has run under my bedroom floor, directly under us, still screaming at whatever demon is chasing it. It must be a demon--- what other creature alive dares to continue to attack a skunk after being sprayed numerous times? S/he's so close I can actually hear the spraying--- a first for me! And Lucy has joined in the fray... or at least as closely as she can while still being separated from her prey by floorboards. Her excited barks, amazingly, do nothing for the skunk.

I find this odd, actually. I understand that skunks hate dogs, so I was sure that Lucy's shrill barks would trigger yet more spraying... but I am beginning to think that instead, her yelps scared off the skunk's attacker, saving us from yet more malodorous offerings.

Thank God for that!!

My sleepiness is gone now. I did try to go back to sleep, but the boys would hear nothing of it. I finally made them a bed on the futon couch in the living room, where the stench is much less strong. Oddly, the worst place is the bathroom, probably because it's closed up (preschooler prevention program--- I'm tired of fishing entire rolls of toilet paper out of the toilet). I'll have to go open up the tiny window in the shower to let it air out overnight.

On a lark, I decided (just before writing this blog post) to look up what predators the skunk has. So far I've discovered that they include Great Horned Owls, coyotes and dogs, cougars, bobcats and foxes... none of which are under my house, I'm certain!

The fun thing is that I have a parenting class tomorrow at 9am... and my clothes will, as they always do after an adventure like this one, bear that oh, so pleasant aroma of eau de skunk. What will be even better is if the facilitators decide it smells like pot, as have numerous of my daughter's friends in the past.

Joy.

As for the skunk, I've spotted an ad for a used live trap for $15. My cousin told me to use tuna for the bait. I'll call on the trap in the morning.

Runaway

Mine daughter has runned away. *sniff* They grow up so fast......

Seriously, though--- she left home last Sunday after declaring that she was not coming back.

She is 15 years old.

I'm not dealing with this very well.

Of course, it would be worse if I didn't know where she is, which is at her step-grandmother's house. There is no way on earth I'd allow her to be out without knowing that!

I am rather tired of her drama, honestly. She won't tell me what is so wrong that she cannot stay here, just that I'm so annoying that she cannot stand me. To prove her point, last week I fell asleep on the couch just after she came home from school... and she stayed and minded the boys for me while I slept. She told me afterward that it was the only way she was willing to be around me.

Seriously, folks--- am I REALLY that annoying that no one wants to be around me??

I guess it's a good thing that my mom died a year ago. All the cwap that hit the fan in the year since her death... I don't know if she'd be able to deal with it. Heck, I don't know if I'd be able to deal with it if she were still alive to see it.

As it is, if I let myself think about it, I die a little each time inside.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

A new year started.....

Wow. Is it really a new year? Seems like the new year actually started in August, at least as far as I'm concerned. That's when my husband was told by the Department of Human Services that he needed to move out, and I was told that I could not permit contact between him and the kids any more.

0.o

I am still in the process of realizing just how much control he had over our lives. And I am truly stunned by that realization.

You know how you don't always recognize just how close to the precipice you're standing until someone yanks you back to safety? That's how I feel now, and I'm reeling in disbelief that I've been so blind all these years.

For example:

I've longed all my life to live at the coast--- the beautiful, wild, unpredictable Oregon coast, to which my mother introduced me many, many years ago. I have never tried to hide this desire of mine, and my then-fiance told me, "Yeah, we can move there before the kids get out of school. I like the Depoe Bay area--- my aunt Nancy used to live there."

Several years after our marriage, however, his words changed to, "we'll move there after the kids are out of school." And Depoe Bay was never mentioned again.

I never gave up that dream. I did my best to make the drive to the nearest coastal town at least once every two months, and my refrain, whenever the kids drove me crazy or I was in the depths of despair, was always, "I want to go home." And by this time, even the kids knew that when I said, "home," what I really meant was the coast.

My husband was very quick to remind me, "You ARE home." And even though I knew he knew what I was saying, I repeated it anyway: "No. Home is where the heart is, and my heart is at the coast."

Eventually the promise became, "We'll move there after we retire." And then I knew that if I stayed married to this man, as I had always planned to do, because I was NOT going to repeat my parents' problems of failed marriages! then I would have to give up that elusive dream.

But I wasn't ready to start mourning it just yet. Life has a way of changing, and I thought to myself, I can save up my own money and buy some coastal property, just some undeveloped land, and I can use that for a vacation getaway, at least. Even if I only used it as my own private camping spot, that was better than nothing. Some dreams are never realized because the dreamers are inflexible. I was not going to let that happen!

Other examples included the furniture arrangement in the house. Whenever he got a yen for change, he'd start rearranging the furniture without asking if I minded. I didn't, of course, but then again, I didn't mind. The kitchen was my domain, and that was the only place I wanted organized a certain way.

Then suddenly he became the stay-at-home parent due to becoming disabled by MS. In his mind, that meant that the entire house was his to control. He started putting dishes in different cupboards, food and seasonings were shifted around to his liking, and I'd come home to cook and couldn't find anything. It drove me crazy, but anytime I tried to point out what I thought was common sense or what I'd learned in the ten extra years I had on him, he'd accuse me of never trusting him, of always thinking I knew better, of always pulling the "age" card. It never ended well.

Now here I am, a single parent to all intents and purposes, and I don't think he'd recognize the house if he ever saw it again. I've thrown out the couch and loveseat and replaced them with a futon sofa and futon chair, both made of nice oak. I don't think these two seats will be overrun by mice like the last ones were!

We also have a dog now--- Lucy, a 4- or 6-year-old Schnoodle bitch, who's actually very intuitive as to our feelings. She loves to cuddle with all of us, but especially me--- seems she was originally a lady's dog. She creeps into bed with all of us if we let her, nosing her way under the covers as though hiding from the world. I've taken any number of photos of her snuggling with the kids. Hubby's attitude was always, "I'm a cat person." But we got neither, because of my horrendous allergies... and Lucy does not aggravate them! It's been over a quarter of a century since I was last able to cuddle with a dog like I do with Lucy!

At any rate, I'm really not done bitching about the hold he had over us, but I'm falling asleep, so I'll come back later and finish this post! Sleep well, and thanks for listening!