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My Profile
Fairytales for a Practical Princess - 2008-11-30
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10:14 a.m. - 2003-05-17
Thanks to everyone who left me hugs yesterday. They help...a lot! There have been many reasons why it's been since forever that Mike and I got away on our own, and why it's longer still since I had any extended time to travel on my own. Time- His work, my work. For many years we lived pretty close to the bone and it was impossible for us to take any time off from work. We simply couldn't afford it. We used to have polite wrangles with our German exchange students. They were convinced Germans worked harder and longer than anyone else on Earth. Mike and I laughed and laughed. Even the lowliest grocery clerk in Germany STARTS their employment with a guaranteed 4 weeks vacation time. Whereas Mike after 3 years with one company got a princely 6 days a year. And I worked on commission and was entitled to take time if I wanted, but I would earn no money and would be risking losing my clients to the other sharks in the sales pool. Eat or be eaten, it's the American Way. Money- see above about the consequence of taking time off. Plus there was Mike. Money was always really tight in his family. A family of 6 living on an Army NCO's pay meant they never ate out, never stayed in motels when they were on the road- they camped, and it was against the family ethic to "waste" money on frivol. Vacations definitely qualified as frivol. Also as a life-long Army brat Mike had already been everywhere thanks to his dad's constant postings. Mike could not nor would not understand my need to go somewhere. Empathy isn't his strong suit and since HE'D been to Berlin and Venice and Stockholm and Tokyo and Manila and Seville and just about anyplace else you can name, his blasé “Been there, done that” attitude overrode my desire to go. One of the bitterest times in our marriage was when Alex was 6. Air France had a sweet getaway deal, some outrageously cheap long weekend in Paris. My friend Mary was willing to watch Alex. We actually HAD enough money to pay for the trip and our meals. Mike wouldn’t go. Flat out wouldn’t go. Laughed in my face even for my “stupidity”. 4 days in Paris? What would be the point? 5 months later I sat in a neurologist’s office and listened while he told me that if I was lucky I might get to see 30. Me? In Paris? What would be the point, indeed. Never before or since have Mike and I been so close to divorce. And then came Wolf. In previous entries I’ve gone on about how having this child turned my life upside down. No need to lay it out again. Yeah, by the time Wolf made the scene I’d helped Mike rearrange his thinking (a little) when it came to travel and such. He’d been a good sport about my birthday gift to him of a trip to Mexico. In fact he enjoyed it so much we’d left a deposit on a time share in Cancun. The Yucatan wasn’t Europe, but at least it was a guaranteed real vacation in a foreign country at least once a year. I liked Mexico well enough, anyplace that has that much silver jewelry for sale is up there on my list. But one of the first things I did when the stick turned blue was get our deposit back. With a new baby and me out of work I knew our chances of getting back to Mexico were slim to none. By the time Wolf was 1, it became obvious we’d NEVER be going anywhere without him. Geographically isolated from family, and even if my MIL lived next door, she had a full time job. Granny sitting was out of the question. Mary had bugged out. My getting pregnant with Wolf effectively killed our friendship. Unmarried, childless, and beginning to go through menopause, my pregnancy seemed to rub her nose in that which she would never have. She freaked. We had a big fight. And that was the end of that. My other friends were employed full time. I literally had no one in my life who could watch the baby. By the time Wolf was 2 we realized that our boy was different. He never slept. He was constantly in motion. He seemed immune to discipline. He didn’t talk often, but he could scream. He could scream for days. He was into everything. There were no locks he couldn’t pick. No gates he couldn’t climb. He was fearless, heedless, and unstoppable. Wolf was a 3 foot tall juggernaut. Even when he wasn’t being deliberately destructive, his antics foshed other people to death. During a rare visit to Ohio to see Mike’s sister Wolf almost sent my SIL’s husband to the loony bin. Wolf was messy. Wolf was noisy. Wolf repeatedly washed himself in the wee tabletop fountain in the front hall. And then dried himself on the curtains. My BIL spent the weekend alternately throwing himself in front of the breakables to protect them from Wolf and locking himself in his bedroom to get away from our tiny terror. I’m not blaming BIL, I’ve had that desire myself. It takes a rare talent to be around Destructo Boy for any length of time and NOT want to flee the house or lock the kid in a dog kennel. And so it’s gone on. Time passes, but not much has changed with our situation. A couple well meaning souls have offered to watch Wolf for an afternoon, but we knew better than to take them up on it. Leaving Wolf with someone who’s inexperienced with kids, let alone a kid like Wolf, is akin to dropping a pit bull into a box of kittens. It would be damn ugly. Not only for the unsuspecting friends and their homes, but it would be dangerous for Wolf. Nobody seems to get how closely he must be watched. How fast he is. A moment’s inattention and Wolf is in the road. Or on the roof. Or sampling the cleaning compounds under the sink. Or dismantling the computer. Or using a butcher knife to pry open the peanut butter. Or pouring motor oil all over the floor in the garage and trying to skate on it. If I daren’t leave my boy for an afternoon...how the hell can I get to Paris? LA’s Wistful Pick of the Day: “Vacation” by The Go-Go’s
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