The look
She looked at me with that glare, the one that told me from the time I could first walk that she was upset with me. Disappointed. Let down. It was the look I have tried to avoid for most of my lifetime; the look I lied to hide from, the look that melts me to the core and instantly deduces my normally staunch composure to so-much jello. The Look.
But the discussion did not begin with the Look. They never do. This discussion began with light-hearted banter about the baby and her eating habits and my new car, how I'd ordered it and when it was set to arrive. And I remained busy-- and calm-- and enjoyed our chit-chat in that hurried, overly effusive manner I have when I am avoiding unpleasantness.
Doesn't matter. The unpleasantness comes anyway.
"So how are things with you two?" she asks, indicating my current marital situation. "How is all that... going?"
And this is when I feel it coming.
"Well, he canceled our last counseling appointment. He said he was going to reschedule, but he hasn't yet..." I pause. She isn't sold. She knows I don't want to stay married, she knows how much he loves me, how he wants to work on it, and keep working and never give up.
"Hhhn," she says, noncommittally, as if digesting.
I brace myself. I have to say it. I have to tell her, just get it out, but it's sticking in my craw. I hate when she's disappointed in me. I hate letting her down. I hate that I am so fricking unconventional. And yet, I am so amazingly good at all of it.
I clear my throat and add, "I feel like we're moving in different directions. We're moving apart."
And there it is. The Look. I freeze-- my stomach drops, the lump in my throat wells to six times its previous size. I am 2 feet tall. I want to hide and wither away and die. She shakes her head slowly, and tells me how sad it all is. She asks about the kids-- whom I assure her are doing well; they haven't indicated any sorrow or anything. It's as though she knows this to be true, but wants to believe they are hurting, that something would stop me from making this choice.
I am alone. Nothing can stop me from making this choice. I ask myself every day if I'm willing to be alone for the rest of my life, to give up the comfort of a relationship that is okay and risk never having anyone share in my life again.
The separation is my choice. I accept the responsibility for the pain and the loss both my husband and my family feel. I accept that I will never have the same relationships with them, and I know I will grieve over the loss of those relationships and the changes my choices bring.
Bearing those things in mind, I also look at the fact that I am still on this path I have chosen. Despite the pain and the loss, I am still here, forging my way forward. It could be that I am a complete idiot; it could be that I am making the greatest mistake of my life and that I will regret the loss of my marriage more than anything else in my life. It certainly well could be.
But I also know that I feel fully alive on this path, that I feel complete. I feel scared at times and unsure, but that with each step, I am invigorated and I am happy.
I look back into my mother's eyes and meet her gaze unwaveringly. And now she knows, too.
Ongoing battles
Going through personal strife causes intense self-examination. Being that I am currently separated from my second husband and facing single-motherhood for the second time in my life, suffice it to say I am going through a reasonable amount of personal strife.
I got lists-- actual lists-- of what I enjoy doing, things I like and, most importantly, the vision of the person I want to become at all times in my life, not just in sporadic bursts. I want to be an involved mother who always puts her kids first, ahead of anything else. This means I want dinners at the table, dinners that are healthy and include things like VEGETABLES. I want no television in the evenings until homework and piano practice are done, and then I want games. BOARD games. I want reading time and bath time, I want big hugs and snuggly moments where we all just hang out TOGETHER, listening to music, dancing around the living room. And I want active weekends, where we go places and have picnics. Or go places and experience nature. I want LIFE. And I want to live it.
I'm Punting Baxter, baby. That means no more sitting on our asses, watching life pass us by. No more television on all day, no more dinner out of boxes all the time. No more being lazy. Engaging in life requires effort, and sometimes effort is work. I am committed to this. I have to be: I've separated from my husband, the man I'd chosen as my life partner, because I have this need-- it's beyond desire, it's a NEED-- to engage in life. And I can't be the person I want and need to be without slipping into the role I have already created within the confines of my marriage.
Baxter is that role. I've punted it. I don't want to be that girl anymore.
Enter last evening:
It's 7:45, I'm just getting home from taking the boys to piano practice, and I'm dead tired. I've forgotten to load up on caffiene beforehand, and the very idea of making dinner for two hungry monkeys (number three stayed with daddy, so she's fed) is daunting. I have this refrigerator full of good stuff for healthy homemade meals, and next to no desire in making any of it. I realize this is going to be a HUGE problem for me. I have veggies galore, but by the time it's time to cook... *sigh*...no way. I fear my "crisper" is so going to become the "rotter." There is no word in the English language that can encompass my complete lack of interest in cooking when I'm that tired.
It's been barely a week since the boys returned from their father's house (note: different father than my daughter's), and already my new-found cooking resolve is waning. Gahhhh... vegetables are so difficult. You gotta clean them, and cut them and...
WTF?!! See? Lazy. Vegetables they aren't difficult. Telling your husband, your best friend that you never argue with, the one who is a good man and a kind man, that you no longer want to be his wife-- THAT is difficult. Convincing your family that you need more out of life and you are making the best personal choice for you, cuz you're a GROWN UP and can do that for your self-- THAT is difficult. Chopping veggies? Oh, for the love of...
I tell you this: I have given up and taken on enough in my life, I won't be beaten down by some crummy vegetables. Fine, so I fed them grapes last night but you just WATCH OUT-- because tonight I am all about the salad and steamed green beans, baby.
Random memory
One sunny afternoon in college, my girlfriends and I are goofing off, roaming around downtown, taking goofy pictures... we had decided earlier in the day to see a movie and my roommate, Jenny, really, really wanted to see this one particular flick. Being that our dorm friend, Sarah, and I had no idea WTF was playing, we were game for anything.
So after spending the afternoon fooling around, laughing like jackarses, we head into the theater to see what I think is going to be a total slapstick comedy. I mean c'mon, with a title like My Left Foot how can it be anything but?
When life hands you lemons
I've had 3 kids, which tells you many things, if you're a thinking person.
First and foremost, it's a pretty good bet that I'm incontinent when I cough. Just ever so slightly, but true nonetheless. I would give good money to fix this problem, but then I would not be able to complain vigorously, or have those horrendously embarrassing moments in public. So you know, it's a wash.
Second, it's also a good bet that I have been barfed on. Also true-- but I can take it one step further. Just last week, I was not only barfed on, I actually CAUGHT the barf, and ran it 20 feet across white carpet to the bathroom WITHOUT spilling A SINGLE DROP! Only a true expert can master barf blitzing.
Third, I worry about anything and everything. Constantly and consistently. And what, with a Catholic upbringing? Please. I defy any rational human being to seriously challenge my what-iffing abilities. I should get paid for that crap.
Sad. Pathetic. True. Which brings us to the point of this missive: Sometimes, worry can overwhelm you-- and you'll need and escape.
When you want to avoid life, when you actively need to not think about people and things and LIFE in general, watch a movie. Preferably a funny movie. It's my rare treasure of a gift to myself, but ahhhhhh, what a gift.
My top ten funny movie recommendations, *kinda* in order:
10) Something About Mary: there's no topping the nard scene. If you've seen the movie, you know.
9) Dumb and Dumber: Most annoying sound ever... love it.
Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls: This movie represents the only time I have ever respected a man for talking out of his ass.
7) Office Space: Red stapler. Say no more.
6) Caddyshack: You'll get nothing and like it.
5) Tommy Boy: That's gunna leave a mark.
4) Wedding Crashers: Then we play a little game called just the tip.
3) South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut: SKITTLES!
2) Best in Show: Pine nut. Macadamia nut. Brazil nut.
Runner up: anything Monty Python.
And the winner...
1) Anchoman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy This is the funniest movie ever made. If you disagree, I will fight you. (I have an outright crush on Will Ferrell. Let's just get that out there right now.)
I’m punting Baxter
Punting Bacter refers, of course, to Anchorman-- the greatest movie ever made. (It's true. it is.) Legendary Anchorman Ron Burgundy has a good life; a comfortable life. He has everything he wants, including the greatest job ever, loyal friends, a sultry mustache and plenty of scotch.
His best friend and greatest ally in this simple existence is his scruffy terrier, Baxter. This ragamuffin pup communicates with Ron on levels the average person cannot understand; Ron simply adores him. Enter conflict: Veronica Corningstone, a sexy, blonde bombshell of a journalist, destined to become Ron's love interest and co-anchor.
Where Baxter is a symbol of the comfortable, easy, choice-free life Ron enjoys, Veronica is a symbol of the adventurous, powerful changes ahead of Ron, and, if he accepts those changes, the greatness he can attain.
As stated previously, there is nothing wrong with Ron's life: he is perfectly comfortable and content. A comfort, perhaps, many of us can relate to-- waking up one day, years out of college, finding ourselves living in suburbia with the 2.5 kids, the 3/2 house with the attached two car garage and the job that makes enough to get by. Comfortable. A perfectly pleasant, beige life.
Okay, so Ron doesn't have the house, the car, or the kids, and maybe has a little more glam than the average Josefina is used to; but like many of us, Ron wasn't searching for more or even wanting more-- at least not consciously. And as unto Ron, sometimes change comes our way anyway, whether we're looking for it or not.
Ron's catalyst came after hucking a burrito out his car window and inadvertently hitting a motorcyclist(played by Jack Black) in the face. The burrito launch causes said motorcyclist to crash his bike, seethe in a fit of rage and ultimately punt Baxter over the side of a bridge. As in football. Followed by free-fall. Bye-bye Baxter.
Following me here?
On a purely symbolic level, this guy is taking the comfort and security out of Ron's life, the essence of Ron's beige, forcing him to face a new world that challenges him on every level.
I started this blog because I am the Jack Black of my own life. I see the road ahead; I am attempting to affect change, to find myself, to accept myself, to be who I want to be. I am attempting to define my dreams, set my goals and realize them all.
I know what I want. I think I know how I have to get there. But first I have to find the courage to punt Baxter.
About me….
Perpetually anxious/simultaneously exhausted mom of a blended family of 7 kids & 2 pets. Writer about same. Wife to one amazingly patient husband. Drinker of wine. Columns found via online syndication in 38+ newspapers across the U.S.
Radio segments found here or live weekly on Thursdays at 5:15 p.m. on KYNO 940 AM radio's "The Drive."
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