A moment in the life of a mothers meltdown

A mothers time out…

I often wonder am I ever good enough? What else can I do to be just that much better?

I usually find myself contemplating these thoughts particularly after an argument with my kids or husband.

Regardless of how I handle the arguments, the time and space afterwards is crucial to me, crucial to absorb their thoughts, try to understand, decompress and to heal from "war".

Regardless of who may have started the altercation, the heated emotions, the anger & bitterness, often leaves me riddled with verbal wounds projected from momentary forked, unthinking tongues, cornering me and then I too armed and stockpiled, spur an artillery of verbal assaults and pull the adult card as if that one reason is the pillar of an excuse to participate.  

 Drained and emotional unavailable for sometime, causes withdrawal, and distance, my need of space, time and peace for god sakes causes more sadness and disappointment as the kids bounce back and let life fall back into their normal routine as if nothing happened. Their expectations of me to be the "all smiling and all too eager to listen mother" of moments prior to the family inquisition comes to a jaw dropping, puppy eyed “what's your problem mom"? Which in turn leaves me walking away scratching me head in wonder, where the hell did these young people come from?

I hate confrontation, I hate being the cause of another persons sadness and disappointment, probably the reason I'm still married, when maybe I shouldn't be.

The tricky, oh hell, the shitty thing about confrontation is the more I try to avoid it, the sharper and shittier the outcome when it finally does come to a head.

With my own distaste for arguments, I find it intolerable and down right stupid for kids to fight and to the extension that my own children go to insult, disrespect, and discourage their own sibling's baffles, sickens and frightens me.

  After raising kids for just over 20 years, sibling rivalry & senseless kid battles will bring me to the brink of madness. As most fights amongst siblings do,  these battles start out with the most mundane issues. Computer time, the number of turns on the video games, who has the best cell phone, which kid was the devils spawn, sisters fighting over clothes; Are you for real? Can these be the most pending questions of my life that need immediate, urgent attention before blood is shed? 

PG & E,  you will have to wait for your check as my bill writing has come to a complete halt as my son just pissed off his younger but more frightening sister and the battle lines have been crossed. And then when I am forced into their arguments, and try as I might to be diplomatic, the little cretins turn on me and drag me into their blood bath and the next thing I know, I'm pissed off, saying the same stupid, cretin like words that baffle my mind. 

 So here I sit typing by candle light, wrapped in the shadows of solitude wondering what more can I bring to the table to be a better parent? How much deeper do I need to breathe in to reach for the infinite patience of the perfect mother?, how much higher the number do I have to count to prevent myself from actually yelling, Shut, the hell up”? Or a screeching halt, can you please shut the fuck up? You're fighting over shoes, are you really ready to battle to the death over purple vans? 

 What my children fail to see is that the old dog walking away, tail dragging to lick her wounds, (wild eyed and all) is really a warrior, restocking her arsenal of love, patience and prayers, hugs and kisses to gear up for the next battle…

For every slashing of the verbal whip, I pray "please give me strength, patience and kindness". Please give them, my children "the power of patience, kindness and tolerance". Please help me be a better mother, a better parent, a better wife, a better person.

More than a road trip

More than a road trip??

(A new beginning or a sad goodbye?)  

On an overcast morning, my husband, Roland and I headed down the coast for a last minute "lets play hooky from work". The only plan was simple, we needed to be home by 9 or 10pm, spend less than $200, have fun and reconnect.

Our trip started with a stop at our local Trader Joe's in downtown Monterey. We picked up food for a picnic. A couple personal loaves of soft garlic and asiago bread, sliced salami and provolone, a bag of chips and salsa, and fresh organic raspberries to soak in our cheap bottle if pinot gris.
After a quick stop at the gas station to fill the tank, we were heading down highway 1, crusin' past Pebble Beach and Carmel. As the highway opened up and the coast came into view, my shoulders relaxed and the stress of life began to melt away. By the time we reached Big Sur the sun started to peak out and the day seemed promising for some great photographs.

With endless chatting and lingering eye contact Roland and I slipped easily into a comfort zone that seemed to have been lost in the wake of a shift in our relationship. Reflecting in the beauty of the nature before us was the beauty of a familiar friendship.

"The greatest meeting of land and sea," Robert Louis Stevenson's famous quote entered my mind as the jagged Big Sur coast line capped my meditation with awe and inspiration. The Big Sur Coast line has to be God's back yard with the rugged rock formations and the endless ocean. On this day the water was calm and reflective not unlike my own state of mind.

Nepenthes restaurant perched over 800 feet above the pacific ocean. Settled on top of the world the legendary restaurant lives up to its name, easing the mind with its refreshing and toxic beauty. Together we browsed the gift shop, smelling candles, playing with wind chimes, admiring local art work, smiling at each other between the isles, a brief touch of hands, the faint stir of familiar. We hiked in silence through the gardens taking in the beauty of the open world.

Our picnic spot was a red wood gazebo on the edge of forever. As I made the sandwiches and Roland corked the wine, was it possible for us to be a couple again? was it possible to continue where we left off? Where did our friendship go?
As I looked over the edge of my wine filled mug and contemplated such thoughts an echo of once was lingered in my heart. How to start?, where to begin?, should we start over? Should we let it end?
With a deep sigh and open heart, I grabbed the fingers of  my husband hoping he'd understand, be patient, hoping he'd prove to be the man that he once was and that I can once again find it in me to be the honest, open woman that he knew. To say the words that need to be said, to get past the hurt, the disappointment and anger to realize where it is that we're suppose to go. To be brave enough to walk together or say goodbye.

Marriage is not a continuum of smooth transitions or delicate emotions. Anyone who's been married for any length of time (24hours or more) can contest to this. Marriage is not to be confused with your personal "happily ever after" ( although at times one can be at their happiest ever ). As I look over 20 years of marriage in the eyes, I wonder can I really invest 20 more years into a relationship that seems to need a full blown demolition blast? I'm talking scrap the old floor plans, rebuild the foundation and start all over again.

While my marriage has hope, a deep rooted loyalty, and children to bind, I feel that it has lacked the most fundamental foundation of all, the nuturing seed of trust and communication.

For me at least this part of the marriage puzzle is my fault. I have never given my whole heart over to my husband, my whole self has never been revealed, yes snippets and glimps have been observed in lazy off guarded moments of anger, love making and during indulgences of various forbidden fruits in the infancy of our relationship.

Now in the midst of a possible divorce, I turn to the comfort of the tapping of the keyboard, the glow in the night of my computer and through written word I hope to rediscover the ability to look deep in my heart and find the strength of a weak but wise voice, and maybe finally open up raw and real to my husband with out the defense of my own sharp, steele tongue of anger or worry of his judgement and dissappointment in the girl that became a very human and extraodinary woman while balancing personal growth, child rearing and marriage all while on top of the highest of pedestals that my husband lovingly placed me.