the Circle comes back around...

Last week I put a ring on a man's hand. He put a ring on mine. Sitting in the car outside the head shop, my husband and I discovered that $15.00 rings, and a heart connection can make for a very emotional recomittment to one another.

We've had some hard years here. We've nearly spun apart/imploded multiple times. Having teenagers is really fucking hard. Being in work you hate, and in a school that tells you you're full of shit for your ideas, and discovering just how fucked up a family can be can really make a person miserable. When you have two partners in this kind of emotional place together, and they have completely different coping mechanisms, shit sucks. A lot.

But we kept muddling. We didn't throw in the towel, and then as we went through other important and difficult things... not the least of which was a serious illness... a new perspective emerged. As we got through this long and fairly horrid winter, some things came clear for me. Most importantly, what I value in life, who I want to be, how I want to live. I want to live in love. I want to have fun, I want to have friends, I want to be frivolous and spontaneous. Things don't matter at all. My people matter. Right now, this man and this boy with home I share this space.

 Badlands, May 2009

I determined that through all the shit, I had pretty much shut down, become isolated and resentful, and felt very, very alone. I've become quite untrusting, scared of reaching out to make friends. I just feel so different from the sort-of peers I kind of have. But I kept on swimming, ya know? But what of my husband? He was having a completely horrid time of things too! I got so stuck in how put-upon I was, how stressed and over-extended I was, and how he wasn't sucking it up and doing more was sooooo unfair, that I just got disconnected and emotionally shut down. That is what I needed to do to get through the ongoing crises that were my daily everydays. But I forgot a major thing; I forgot to give. I mean, to REALLY give. I was giving, and that was all I was doing, but I wasn't giving to my partner. I was expecting. I never really gave a thought to where he was emotionally in this whole mess. Even though I've known him now for nearly 29 years, and I know know know how emotional he is, and how he processes, I was angry with him for being, well, himself. And in my anger, I left him kind of out to dry. I wasn't his shoulder, anymore than he was mine, but see, the thing is, he needs a shoulder before he can be one. I hold together in the crisis, and come apart after. He falls apart in the midst of, and bucks up once it's dealt with. I expected him to be right there in the thick of everything with me. But I know he can't do that. It was unfair of me.

As I went through this icky medical crap over the winter, and felt like shit, and was pretty fucking useless, he was there. He fed me, he loved me, he took care of the boy and the house. He was my friend from back when I was a girl, that friend that was there in a heartbeat when I needed him. And I realized just how much this man means to me. I totally got just how empty my life would be without him. He's been my rock for 29 fucking years. There's no one on this planet that knows as much of ME as he does. And yet, he loves me. Completely, and for just exactly who I am. No bullshit. No filters. He knows the rawest, most true me. The worst parts of my history. And yet... he loves me.

Goat Rock Beach, May 2009

As I found myself at this epiphany of the depths of my love for my husband, and the understanding that I'd let him down as surely as I'd felt let down myself, my heart just flooded open. All the ... whatevers ... that had built up; I dunno... protection? Coping? Distance? they just - POOF   All gone. I wanted to give. And so, give I did. It feels so very good! And in my giving, he has opened his heart again too, and he gives, and we are... well... we are partners again.

I'm all giddy in love again! I feel as though we are treading rather too close to barfingly cute for people of our age, but who gives a good goddamn?! We can't keep our hands off each other, we once again call each other by Jim Dear and Darling, and we, losers of wedding rings some 10 years past, bought rings for each other. Slim, sterling bands, bought at the head shop. Somehow completely appropriate for a couple who married on Hippie Hill.

November 8, 1988

May, 2009... same spot!

Then, we got in the car, parked on the curb there on West Leonard, Connor buckled securely in his seat, so very curious about what Gramma and Papa were up to. Jim found the smaller ring, and put it on my finger. The finger that's been wedding-band-free for 10 years, and ring-free for 2, and he said, "With this ring, I thee wed. Again." And I put the larger band on his wedding-band-free for 10 years finger, and repeated his words.

And we meant them. With even more of our hearts than we meant them almost 23 years ago. We've been together longer than we've been not-together. We share children and a grandchild, and a lifetime of memories and history. The feeling - well, I can't even articulate the feeling. Rushes of gratitude, and love, and security, and safety, and just... tingly goodness! It really is an amazing thing, what the sight of a band on the third finger of your left hand, and the hand of your partner, does for one emotionally. A beautiful thing. An incredibly, powerfully meaningful thing. My oldest, dearest, truest friend. My partner. Love of my life. My Husband.

April 7, 2010

Weird as it is, this is probably the best ring I've ever had.

Aaaaaand... a bump in the road

Sooooo....
That new drivetrain? The one that came out of the same vehicle we have basically? Yeah. Won't fit. The transmission is 3 inches longer, and the bolt pattern is different. Jim took copious pictures, and took those with him when he went to look at the drivetrain, to guard against just such an event. But, there you have it. When they're sitting side by side, and a guy has a tape measure in hand, things are much more tangible.

Now, interestingly enough, it seems that getting this old thing, and following the signs to the parts to get it put together has led us to a much better vehicle.
Jim picked up an engine stand Thursday from a guy close by us. He and his fiance are selling everything and moving to Arizona. He's got a Chevy RV sitting in the yard. It belonged to his parents, it's in great shape, 75,000 original miles, and he wants $1800 for it. We're going to put this RV we have up for sale, along with the engine and transmission, and buy that one.
So, while Jim was kind of feeling defeated and frustrated by this turn of events, it occurred to us that, well, if he hadn't gone to get the stand, he wouldn't have met this guy, or found this vehicle. It's not on craigslist, it doesn't have a For Sale sign, nothing. We literally wouldn't have ever found it if we hadn't gotten the one we have. So, this was all maybe just a test to see how dedicated we are to this whole notion. I guess we pass muster!

In other news...
An entire sweater for a tall scrawny young man is almost done. I think it's long enough finally. We'll see I guess. I know the arm is long enough, because it's long enough for his dad. I've lengthened the body twice now. It's 24 inches from the back of the neck to the hem. I'll have to go corner him and shove it over his head again.

I've finished a fun gift for a lovely young woman who will be all growed up offishul-like sometime in the next week or so here. She's about to move into a little house with her adored boyfriend, so I thought a fun wallhanging would be appreciated. I hope Andy likes unicorns.

I'm going to have to come up with a couple more things though. 21 is kind of a significant birthday from what I'm told. And of course she specifically requested Bar Money. How's $21 bucks sound, kid? HA! Like she's going to have to buy her own drinks... I guess point more being she can.


Also...
Spring! Happy Equinox out there, folks! Sadly, I missed the supermoon last night, but man oh man! Spring has come to western Michigan! It is raining cats and dogs today, all the snow will be washed away by morning, and there are crocuses blooming! Rilo got out for the first loooong walk this past week, and was that little doggie-girl ever excited to see her leash! Thought she might take the whole door down, she was in such a hurry!

Connor continues to do wild and woolly things, never ceasing to amaze. He got new shoes this week, as it is now sneaker weather again. Fastest shoe shopping trip evah! Went to Target, he spotted 'THE shoes' immediately; Spiderman, with light-up webs on the side! We discovered that he wears a size 12 (!) now, which means he got them on the big guy side of the aisle, rather than the little guy side. This was Tuesday. Wednesday morning he leapt from bed, called out, "C'mon, Gramma! Let's get me to school!" He was dressed and downstairs, in those shoes, before I was fully conscious. Then, of all crazy, unexpected things, he is brushing his own hair!! Big guy shoes turned him into a really big guy, at least for one morning. LOL! He was earnin' some preschool street cred with those babies, lemme tell you! Huh-larious!!! Another awesome step forward is his interest and ability to make his own fruit salad. Cuttin' up strawberries and bananas... he was so impressed to show that skill off to Ellie and Amber, young lady friends of 6 and almost 8 who came to dinner last night. While waiting for the lame grown-ups to quit yakking and order some pizza already! he proudly cut a lovely bowl of strawberries for each of them. What a nifty guy! Now, if he'd just stop filling up my camera memory with pictures of his butt...

 Crafty goodness continues unabated. Working on some flowers, crocheted from various and sundry material. I like ribbon! It is shiny, and it doesn't split when crocheting! But... it comes in such little spools! I have a ribbon sunflower almost done, but no more bright yellow. I'm out, and, sadly JoAnn is out too. I did get the center completed, so yay for that!!

*sigh*
Maybe soon... I guess I'll have to make do with my yarns. Rough life. I know, I know. And the daffodil and columbine I made with yarn are so very, very awesome! No pics of those yet...

In the next weeks, I'm going to be doing some writing/processing of the last few years of our lives here. I've had some epiphanies about a bunch of stuff, and I need to get it down and out. Along with that, I'll be writing more about the crafting, getting my etsy shop, zoesdyedreams, up and running, and continuing to chronicle the saga of the RV. My goal is to take an hour a couple days a week, and focus on one area. So, if you wanna come along, I'd love the company!

Peace out there, ya'll.

The AT&T wringer

That's what the nice guy I finally talked to in Kalamazoo called it last Friday.

"My god. You've talked to everyone on the planet."
"Yes. Yes, I have. I'm glad you can see that!"
"You've really been through the AT&T wringer."

Yup. Eight hours of prepaid cell minutes. That would be $60 of minutes cards, plus the cost of the cheapest Tracfone I could buy. Why? Because AT&T gave me an on-date of January 10th. When did I get my internet? Today. January 19th. When do I get my phone? Supposedly now tomorrow, January 20th. What transpired between the 10th and today is, to put it mildly, unbefreakinglievable.

When finally yesterday, having gone to my bff's house to use her landline, where it took yet another 2 hours (total time on phone: 8 hours, 20 minutes. Total number of calls: 12. Total number of people talked to: at least 20. Total number of reasons given: at least 10) to finally get some explanation and resolution. I totally lucked out and got a woman who knew both the phone crap and the internet crap, and was able to look at everything that had happened, and figure out what to do.

Somewhere along the line, my phone order had been cancelled! And yet, accounts showed that my phone service was waiting on a deposit. Which I then 'paid', but not really, because the order had been cancelled. My internet, so the story goes, had been whatevered by the tech who came out to set the house up because the gate to the backyard was closed and 'client not home', which I was, halfway watching for him. He didn't knock or ring the bell to be let in. So, then, my internet turn-on was cancelled. They changed my due-on date 5 times. FIVE TIMES!!!

While I had little hope going into today, I did have hope, because the nice woman at AT&T who seemed to actually know what the hell she was talking about gave me hope. And lo and behold!!! A tech showed up just after noon, for an 11-1 appointment time, and got me up and running in about half an hour! So now I really have hope for the phone going on tomorrow night.

Let me just say how incredibly relieved I am to have my netflix for my day in bed tomorrow. Holy smokes, people!!!

In other news, Mr. Nic Mann, generous sperm donor of my darling and beloved grandson, has done it again! There is a new young woman expecting his daughter on May 19. Connor will be 5 on May 14. I know I know... how hilarious is that?! And, even better, she's not the girl he's been with since Cassady was pregnant, and is still with now! Nope. She's a summer fling of not-girlfriend status. My attitude about not jamming him up too much more by trying to get his child support increased (I mean, it did get set when he was a 17 year old high school student, and as a 22 year old man it is the same measly little pittance) has completely shifted. New babymama will for sure sue for child support, and will get more, as he is an adult with two jobs, so I will be going in to see what we can do to get Connor's support increased before the new bebeh comes about.

She seems like a nice girl who wishes she'd had a perspective on Cassady and Connor that didn't come from Nic prior to being where she is now. We're going to have lunch soon, she and I and her mom. She and Cassady have bonded over Nic's douchiness, and she reached out to me on facebook. Man oh man. Curveballs! BattahbattahbattahSWING!!!

I got five years under mah belt here with jackassedyness on the part of babydaddy, his scary mom, and his nice but disconnected dad. None of whom know his current predicament. Isn't that cool! He's such a big boy, he hasn't mentioned to any of his parents (his 'team'... ya'll may remember... the 'team' who informed me that I needed to pull parent rank and haul Cassady down to the abortion clinic?) that another one is on the way.

Ya'll, somebody call Maury. Sheeee-it.

Is it bad that I find this all highly amusing?

** apparently, he did tell his mom, who, unsurprisingly, tried to pay for an abortion. She was turned down. **

It never rains...

So, my daughter, my lovely wonderful smart funny thoughtful daughter, is imploding again.

The phone calls apparently started around 8:30 on Saturday evening. Usually this means she wants a ride, or me to bring her something. With the current state of things here, me being on the icky medication and tired tired tired all. the. time. and her being 20, I am not down. So, I ignored it, and turned off my ringer so I could go back to sleep. Apparently, the calls didn't stop.

Around 2am Jim comes up and says, Cassady is calling again. I ignored it. Was that bad? My response? No! It's fucking 2am!!! Not cool, not okay, she's not 15, she's 20. She's chosen to be a party girl despite everything, we have other things to think about, like, who's getting up with Connor (HER son!) in another 3 hours. She makes her choices, she has to deal with her consequences. And we parent her seriously major life choice every day while she continues to flail. Then, a bit later, 2am again, only 3 to our brains as the clocks had JUST gone back that hour, our son calls. He is with his sister. She is not in good shape. She is covered in blood and cuts and bruises, and is high as a kite, and has just seen a friend completely freak out on acid, smashing all of his material possessions and putting his arms through his bedroom window, resulting in life-threatening arterial slice to an arm. Jorma asks if we want him to take her to his house for the night, he's got her out at the 24 hour diner having coffee, and she can crash on his couch, but can we please come get her sometime on Sunday? Holy hell. Oh. My. God. Yes, please, and of course we can.

This was the culmination of a couple rough weeks for her... stress with a straight job, a boy doing the 'it's not you, it's me' thing, too much alcohol, checking herself into a mental health crisis center for a week, missing all the Halloween parties. Gotta make up for missing those... yeah. How'd that work out for ya'?

*sigh*

So, she got sent back to California, back to her grandma, aunt, uncle and cousins, where she usually does well, where people get her, get us, get her life history, and adore her in all her crass, loud, emotional, creative, brilliance. By the time she gets to her usual desire to split from there, we'll be gone from here, so if she wants to come back to the cesspool again, it's all on her. She'll be 21 in March. I'll be in Montana by mid-June. Her brother will likely be in Ann Arbor. No family to come back to. If these people she thinks are her friends are enough to pull her in again, well, nothing I can do to stop it, but for sure nothing I'm going to do to facilitate it. I'm quite sure she can and will eventually pull her head out of her ass and be just fine. Just hoping that can happen without prison or death coming first.

It was 20 years ago today...

... that my beautiful daughter Cassady Rose was born.

Just a few hours old with her very smitten daddy

3 months

TWENTY YEARS. How can that be? I can't imagine that I am actually that old, even as my 44th birthday rolls around next Saturday. The Saturday after, my eldest turns 25.  TWENTY FIVE!!! And 2 weeks after that, my youngest, my sweet baby boy, turns 18. EIGHTEEN!!! My youngest, an adult. And another 3 weeks after that, my beautiful grandson, child of my beautiful daughter, will be 4. FOUR!!! Birthday season is upon me again, and I am once again amazed at the passage of time.

But today, today is my daughter. My girl. My heart. The one I totally get, as hard as she is for others to grasp. My mother and I, we GET her. She is a free spirit. She always has been. She's flown by the seat of her pants, and lived by her own rules since before she was conceived. I was sitting with my husband one evening, looked at him, and I knew... my daughter wanted to come to me. Six months later, I learned I was pregnant. And I knew, knew I would have a girl. And then I woke up one morning knowing her name. She picked us. She is us. She is amazing. A wild, wooly girl who leaps weeks to months prior to looking. She speaks with conviction prior to thinking. She has paved her own way her entire life.

She was born almost 3 weeks late. I woke up in labor on a Thursday morning after learning of the sudden death of a dear friend the evening before. For some reason, she held on until he left. I knew the moment I heard of his passing that she would come the next day. I knew I wake in labor, and I did. Our midwives came early, and passed a long hard day with us. I was sleep-deprived from the previous day's news, and my energy flagged. I heard whispered discussions of transporting me if I didn't start making some progress. One of my midwives, Luna I think, went for recharge, and a friend made miso soup. My energy picked up, and we made it through. I rocked on hands and knees for what felt like forever to get her to flip head-to-back so that she could make an easier passage. Jim below me, talking to her, Michelle behind me, giving counter-pressure during contractions.

Oh man, that was a long day

I was almost fully dilated and pushing. My water broke, she flipped, Luna I think gave the order to lay down on my side NOW. From there, I remember just fuzzy voices of Luna by my feet giving direction to Michelle, who passed it on to Jim, who guided me. My very pregnant friend C'Dale, she of the miso soup, was in the fridge with the Ben and Jerry's when my dear friend Francine said, "Look at that face!" The BnJ was thrown into the freezer, "Face?! Where's a face?!" And my daughter was born. She was born with her eyes open. She looked around the room at her audience while her little wriggly body was still inside. Once she was out and on my chest, she looked around, stretched, sighed deeply and contentedly, and just snuggled into my shoulder. My daughter. I didn't even need to check... I knew. My daughter had come through to me. The first place she went was to our dear friend's funeral service in San Francisco. She was 3 days old. It was April Fool's Day. The irony; it burns.

Her first year flew in a dream-daze of nursing, and cuddling, and playing, and basking in mommyhood as I'd been unable to with my older son, now 5, who'd been born just a week after my 19 birthday, in a crap-ass relationship with a crap-ass 'man'. This was completely different.

She was a bright, bubbly, outgoing and fantabulous little being of light. She loved her Daddy beyond measure, even though I had the boobs! Sheesh!

6 months - mohawked little dumpling

                                                                                          First birthday

Her second year heralded changes brought incredible advances in language and sociability. She was talking in articulate, long sentences by 17 months. "Daddy, I believe I've left my doll in the car. Do you think you might be able to get her, please?" Too soon, her son would mirror that exact skill.

Second birthday with her beloved aunties

When she was two, she got a brother

His story next month... what a cute little monkey! I very carefully coordinated us. We are rockstars! And young... jezuhs, so young...

Two and a half, Redwood Park, Arcata, CA

She sang, she danced. My friend Tyme called her the humming baby. She was always always always always moving through life skipping and dancing and humming to herself. She NEVER simply walked. Her son mirrors this as well. She loved to be center stage. Loved loved loved attention, brought joy and consternation wherever she went, entrancing and frustrating, in the most charming and disarming way, any and all who crossed her path.

Seventh birthday. What a goofy frosting princess.

We had some serious fun in the 5-9 years. God, how I love those years! Such wonderful little loves they are! Connor will enter those years in one more year. Not to minimize the adorableness of 4, but man, 5! Sooooo helpful, so generous, so funny. They get jokes, they tell actual jokes, they just are so... big. Lovelovelove... She's certainly opened unexpected musical doors, and I learned all about swimming, a skill I never mastered. She swam like a fish. She sang like a goddess, she loved all kinds of music. From the Backstreet Boys to The Dresden Dolls, my musical horizons have been tremendously expanded by her. And we've always been advocates of going to live music. The girl was at 25 Grateful Dead concerts by the time she was two. 

Dancing with Sarah, who was in C'Dale's belly at Cassady's birth, thus why C'Dale was in the Ben and Jerry's. Last shows we saw before Jerry's death. Eugene, OR, 1993. Sarah's brother Ben in the foreground. Ah, good times with logical family.

And then, yeah. Backstreet Boys. She was almost 10.

They were actually soooo good that I bought her the coolest, most expensive shirt, and made her daddy take her back the second night. They had a great time. Even Dad. LOL!!!

She's gone through several incarnations in the years since. She's loved punk, she's loved indie, she's loved alt-pop. She's cut her hair almost off, she's bleached it, dyed it blue, purple, green. She's pierced lots o' body parts. The nipple was the hardest for Mommy to contend with. Lips, tongue, nose, belly button... I'm completely inured to face metal these days, along with gauged ears. 

Funky glasses, and funkyish hair

Happy and breathtaking

Weird anti-mullet and super-sweet frames

Pixie and faux fur

Momentary interest in fixed-gear bikes at 18

Brief flirtation with "I am an anarchist punk"

Nineteen -- yeah, that's my kid. No doubt about it

She loves her boy. She was barely 16 when he was born. He entered the world on Mother's Day 2006. She had a natural birth, with midwives. She caught her son herself. He was 8lbs, 12 oz and perfect.

Brand new boy

She loved him and nursed him, and tried to deal with the trauma of Connor's father simply vanishing when she was 8 and a half months pregnant. He'd been solid all the way through, and then, BAM! New girlfriend, totally absent. As he has remained. She started sort of coming and going. She went to family in Washington to try and get her feet under her. Connor stayed with us. He was 5 months old. She came back, and tried some more. She just simply couldn't do it anymore by the time he was 20 months. She loves him, she spent time with him almost every day. But the day-to-day ins-and-outs were just too much for her to manage. She did the hardest thing, and the truly good-mom thing; she admitted her limitations, and asked us to care for him. That had been part of the deal when she chose to have him. We'd be here, no matter what. She went to Portland to try to make her way. She came back after 3 months, and tried to get herself together here. Michigan is just not a good place for my darling. Too much yuck. Too small for such a decent-sized city. Too much history. Doesn't matter what she does, to many all she'll be here is 'that dumb bitch who had a baby at 16'. Not fair. My poor girl.

Last fall, after a horrendous summer, she went to California. She went to find her way among family, and lifetime friends. She's found a way of living that is meaningful to her, that allows her to be exactly who she is among people who love her for just exactly that, where here, she is denigrated and demonized for being exactly who she is, and thus has not been her authentic self since she was about 11. Her authentic self is emerging strong, she is competent, she is truly finding her way. The one thing that keeps her from being totally whole is that her boy is still here in Michigan with us. But she knows that it would be selfish to try to take him on as her own again at this point in her life as well as his. For her birthday, she asked for a ticket home for his birthday. I'll be purchasing that gift tomorrow. Connor is beside himself. We haven't seen her since September 4th...

Birthday last year! Three! He's three!!! She had just turned 19.

Birthday ice cream. 

Last trip to the park before she left.

The boy she left...

... the boy she's coming back to...

... and the Mommy that's coming back to him. 

My daughter. My one and only baby girl. Truly a young woman, strong, self-directed, breathtakingly beautiful, and as an old, dear friend commented to me after meeting her for the first time since she's been in CA... "... a delight. A whimsical delight."

What more could a mama hope for? She is the girl of my dreams. Good dreams and Mommy-nightmares alike. The girl of my dreams. More my girl than I ever could have imagined, or believed possible. 

Two decades I've been her mama. What a wonderful ride it's been...

1990

2010

My darling Cassady, 

"Faring thee well now. Let your life proceed by its own design. Nothing to tell now. Let the words be yours I'm done with mine, done with mine..."


Love you more than words can ever, ever convey. Happy twentieth birthday. Next year, the Meanwhile!

Peace

NOTE: This should have gone up yesterday, March 29th... took me that long to figure out how to correctly insert photos.