Renovations, part II

Renovations are moving along. We should be finished up by early next week. I must say it's such a relief to finally have the money and wherewithal to do these projects that were all put on hold while I was pregnant, breastfeeding and/or broke. I'm getting to clean and organize rooms that have been ignored for a decade or more. It feels good. 

I have zero experience with living in a place for fifteen years. Growing up we moved practically every year, and always rented. The concept of having to sift through and dispose of decades of accumulated crap is entirely alien to me. Also, the idea of renovating a space multiple times is new. 

This was the latest incarnation of my office. The wall color is an excellent example of my utter lack of taste when it comes to paint colors.

This is the laundry/service porch that will soon be a crazy blue powder room:

In other news, have not seen the BF since Sunday morning, but have been in constant contact. The break has been good for me. He says he has not smoked a single cigarette since Saturday. He also says he called the IRS to make a start on his back taxes. 

Do I think this is it, he's a reformed man, let's full steam to the altar? No, no. But at least for today it's promising news.

I visited with a couple of original jitterbugs who are now in their mid-nineties on Monday. They know the story of me and my children, and in discussing their own marriages, one of them turned to me and said, "see? You had the ideal husband - in a tube!" 

Ha ha, she could be right!

Renovations

Renovations have begun. There is a plastic sheet over my kitchen doorway leading to the service porch which gently pulses with some phantom breath. The siding in the front porch has been torn off revealing the termite-addled underbelly, and two-by-fours mark the skeleton of my new bathroom.

Naturally, we have run into a snag. Saturday I noticed the hot water coming out of any faucet was just a thin trickle; Sunday morning confirmed it when I couldn't use the shower and had to take a quick sponge bath in the tub. Flash back to the days in my old apartment in the East Village that had more days without hot water than with, and large pots of water heating up on the stove. Ah, I remember it well. 

I still have no hot water. They say my galvanized pipes are the culprit and they need to be swapped out for copper which will of course cost a fortune and delay everything. Of course. And no hot water (or water at all) today. I would be more upset about this, but right now I have more pressing issues to worry about.

Apparently it's Do or Die time with the BF, just shy of one year. After spending a day with him, watching, exasperated, as he smoked all day while wearing a nicotine patch, even leaving a movie I took him to because he was "too antsy" (read: needed to go out and smoke), I was fed up. That night in bed I decided to let him have it, finally. 

He asked if his not quitting would be a deal breaker and I said yes. I said I hated how we were all inconvenienced by his stupid addiction, how much it intruded on our lives, how unfair it was. That the rest of us don't get to take a break from life every hour. That he is an addict and I am dating an addict, and exposing my children to an addict, something I swore I would never do, and that this is all my old codependent bullshit, and I hate myself for it.

He calmly asked if there was anything else holding me back and I said yes, his financial irresponsibility. That he is in no position to be a part of this family when he can't even get his own shit together or take care of basic things like his teeth or see a doctor or make sure his car runs. 

He asked if he got these things taken care of and quit smoking would I feel better about being with him? I said yes, of course.

Then he finally said the words. "Then we need to have a serious conversation about me moving in here."

My answer wasn't great but was a direct response to the sickening dread I felt when he said those words. "Well, I'd have to have a lot of therapy before anything like that started happening."

He said it was late and he had to get to sleep. 

We lay in silence for a few minutes while I stared at the smoke detector light on the ceiling. 

Then he rolled back over and kissed me and said he loved me, to which I grunted a response.

The next morning we were too caught up in the tragedy in Orlando and the realization that there was no hot water to deal with anything else.

We texted throughout the day. He says he's going to try not smoking at all for a week. Why he didn't do this when he first got the patch two weeks ago annoys me to no end. He says he's going to get everything else sorted out, too - the labyrinthine back taxes, the health insurance, the unpaid bills. He says if he doesn't then he'll end it himself, not wanting to make an enabler out of me. I asked how confident he feels that he can actually get all of these things accomplished. He said, "very". But I am not confident at all. I give it maybe 20%.

He keeps asking if we should break up for a few months until he meets all of these goals, and, if he does, can he then move in. I don't have an answer for any of this, really. Although I have determined that I don't want him living here without a bigger commitment, i.e., marriage. But that I am a long way from even considering marrying him. He has a lot of shit to prove to me first, and I need to feel ready. And I'm soooo not. 

Hanging in the balance now is Bobby's Father's Day thing at school on Friday, our trip to Hawaii in a month, and countless tickets to things over the next few months. It all sucks. But right now I don't really want to see him. I need some time alone with my thoughts. It worries me how similar he is to my mother with his self-medicating and empty promises and financial instability. 

Have I, yet again, chosen to date my mother?

And if so, there is no way that will ever be a positive or worthwhile thing in my life. 

Back from Rochester

I survived another band trip! As expected, the overnight flight getting there and the 6 AM departure to return were indeed brutal - thankfully I was able to keep the babysitter all day yesterday while I slept and lazed around in an attempt to recover. I binged watched season 3 of Silicon Valley and then read the kids some books and put them to bed. I swear they - especially Theo - seem changed every time I come back from a trip. Theo seems to be taller and thinner and more articulate; Bobby seems older and more mature. It explains why parenting seems to move in slow motion when you're with the kids all the time, and then leaps ahead when you don't see them for a couple of days.

My big project this week is clearing out my much neglected office for conversion into a laundry room. I couldn't help but think of a line I once heard on Hoarders as I wiped the dust and cobwebs off my dance trophies and photos of the old time dancers - "these are things that should have a place of honor in your home; you are not treating these objects with respect". Since the kids I've used that room as a junk collector. I'm glad I have the opportunity now to sift through everything, organize it all, and treat these objects with respect again. 

Renovations begin Friday. The office, which has long been a non-insulated, cobweb-ridden enclosed porch, will be insulated, hardwood floored, dry walled, and painted; then the washer/dryer will be put in there and I'll set up a small desk for my printer and some office supplies. Then the back service porch where the washer/dryer was will be made into a small bathroom. I am prepared for my house to be torn apart and cluttered for the next month. But when it's all done everything will be neat and clean and organized...and I'll have a much-needed second toilet around here.

Here are some shots of the kids this weekend having a blast with the babysitter and my BF:

Meditations on a year since online dating

I believe it was a year ago today I tentatively dipped my foot back into the online dating pool after a disastrous romantic overture to a male friend was rebuffed (that episode still mortifies me on a daily basis). Right about now I was fielding that avalanche of early respondents - none of which panned out, of course. I would deal with a text rapist, a Cross Fit addict with anger issues, a million unreturned messages and a dozen or so pointless first dates, to finally land on The Boyfriend, or as I used to call him, Blown Out 80s Rockabilly Tatoo. In just a month we celebrate a year together. Which I do believe is a record for me. 

What can I tell other single mothers thinking of getting into online dating? It's kind of the only way to meet people these days, and yet it's a cesspool of rejection, dick pics, and flakes. I did online dating through most of my 30s with zero results, which lead me to becoming an SMC before time ran out. Yet at least 50% of the people I know in relationships met on online dating sites, which means it does work for some people. How can it be so horrid and ineffective and so profoundly positively change your life at the same time? Is it, like everything else in life, just about chance and timing?

Is it like the Lotto - you've got to be in it to win it? What constitutes "winning"? Getting married? Being exclusive? Just finding someone who likes you as much as you like them...at least some of the time? Who knows?

After nearly a year with this person, I can say it's similar to being a parent - there are times when you love the experience, and times when you don't. Only with children you don't have the luxury of breaking up, nor can you expect anything in return. With children there's the burden of the fact that they have unformed brains that can only understand so much; with another adult there's the burden of their lifetime of bad habits and hang ups. And the constant nagging fear that, just as you have the option to opt out at any time without giving a reason, so do they.

I know several people whose spouses suddenly and inexplicably took off after more than a decade of (seemingly) happy marriage. And even the best relationships end with one person dying and the other being left heartbroken. 

Ain't no happiness nowhere.

With all this said, though, as I've mentioned, the BF and I are in a very good place right now, in part due to the fact that the nicotine patch is actually working to help him quit smoking, and in part due to the fact that we've been together so long now that I am starting at last to get "used" to him. I'm not an easy nut to crack, it's true.

Tonight I leave for what could be a bit of a torturous trip to Rochester - overnight flight, play that night, play again the next night and probably stay up all night to get a 6 AM flight back to LA. I have asked the babysitter to keep the kids out that day so I can just come home and sleep. I got away with my short trip to Korea with zero ill effects, but I'm not sure if I'll be so lucky this time.

Then as soon as I get home my house is torn up the entire month of June for more renovations. Hawaii in July can't come soon enough!

Let's hear it for the boy

I went into this weekend as I do most weekends, and certainly long holiday weekends - with a certain amount of dread. Always, the eternal question - how on earth am I going to entertain two small boys? I can't wait until we can all do the same things. But that is many years off - and actually may never happen, considering my hatred of sports, roller coasters, and other boy-friendly activities. Sigh. Well, I'm their mother, not their playmate, right??

Anyway, I am slightly ashamed to admit that I decided the best way to tackle the long weekend was to mostly spend it without the children, for my own sanity. Saturday was out of necessity as I had my friend who recently died of cancer's Celebration of Life service which was the entire day and not at all kid-friendly (and we were all a basket case all day so hardly "fun" other than stuffing my feelings with uncounted guava pastries from Porto's). Then Sunday I sort of last minute cobbled together a 1920s picnic for me and a friend - there's an historical picnic at a local homestead museum every year which I keep missing; this year I managed to go, and had a blast.

I'm not really a fan of the 20s because I find the styles pretty unflattering (and you pretty much have to wear modern clothes because real 20s stuff has disintegrated) but I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Something about vintage reenactment has always fed my soul, ever since I was a little kid. I'm not sure if it's the romanticism or the escapism or what, but it works.

Memorial Day we had a "family fun day" at a local very popular beach. The beach parking lot was tiny, and after about twenty minutes some of the cars waiting for spots behind us got antsy and decided to drive around front and cut the long line and steal any new spots that opened up. Why people think it's ok to do things like that, I'll never understand. The Boyfriend, god bless 'im, jumped out of the car and started confronting the cheaters and directing them back to the back of the line. Most turned around in shame although a few did not. Later when I asked what he said to them he said he just pointed out that there were people ahead of them and what they were doing was not cool. I really commend him for standing up for us like that. God knows I wouldn't have had the balls. 

We were able to have a really enjoyable time on the beach even though I spaced out and neglected to bring food, sand toys, enough water, or proper clothes. We went to dinner after and the boys were very well behaved and even actually ate something and we finally got them to bed by 11 (kind of an ongoing thing lately...boys rarely go to sleep before 10 but then don't wake up until 10 AM, either, which suits me just fine). So all in all a really nice day. Don't think I could have hacked more than one of those in a row, though!

Show me show me show me

Last Christmas I bought the BF box seat tickets to see The Cure at the Hollywood Bowl. After a five month wait, we at last went to the show last night. Other than crazy traffic making us about a half hour late, it was a magical show, and reminded me how much I once loved that band. 

Thank God for the Bauhauses, Cures, and Smiths of the world that gave voice to teenaged depressives like me. I figured if thirty year old British men could feel just like me, then I'm not totally alone.

Also, I did some serious teenaged making out to songs like "Close to Me". I hadn't realized until last night just how instrumental that band was to my adolescent sexual awakening.

In other news, the BF started the patch today. After the abject failure of the vaporizer, I got him to call 1-800-NO-BUTTS and he did, getting himself set up with a counselor and free nicotine patches. He says he hates the patch and says it never worked for him before - but also admitted to me that he has never quit for more than a few days in the past. Will we be enough incentive for him to finally quit this life long habit??? Only time will tell!

In other news, kids are doing well - I am delighted by how well they play together in their room and how little tension there is between them. There are minor squabbles but for the most part they seem to have a nice rapport. The preschool teachers tell me when they cross paths at school they hug and kiss each other. How awesome is that?

My podcast aired!

Yippee! I got an email out of the blue last night that my podcast would be airing this Friday. This was the one I recorded last April that I thought would never see the light of day. I'm very pleased with how it turned out. It is very accurately titled "religious abuse" and my name on it is Hilary A. 

https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/mental-illness-happy-hour/id427377900?mt=2#episodeGuid=355b69d41d374e0874c38551217a4152