Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Down Dog (pt. 2)

This was a stress that I didn't want or need. The situation would be comical if it weren't so sad. He is so naive, and lacks so much common sense. I keep wondering how he had a 4.0 through out high school. Did they give him the grades because he was a football player? We've all been 21 and made mistakes...but this boy takes the cake! I mean you spend your whole life raising him, trying to give him the best possible environment, the best schools, a full-time mother, a hard working, ethical, honest father. Yet makes choices like he was raised by village idiots! I hoped that the majority of our parenting was done -but it never ends unless you cut it short. We have stop helping him so that he can bite his nose to spite his face, and then pray that it hurts bad enough to teach him some difficult life lessons.

So I'm at the climax of my yoga class in down dog, hopefully the last one before savasana (meditation where you clear your mind and take in all of the poses that you've just completed). The door opens and somehow I know. "Is there a Karen W- in this class? Her husband is on the phone -he says it's an emergency." Shit! Did one of the kids get hurt? I hope it's not anything serious. I get up from down dog and answer the phone. My friends are all concerned when I return for my mat and blanket. "Is there anything we can do?" I'm touched by this. Of course the answer is, "No -I'll be fine."

I hall ass over to the pool to pick up my children and their friends who have been kicked out of the facility because Kendal was using curse words at a couple of young ladies. Wonderful. Isn't my life just freakin wonderful? When I arrive which is literally five minutes later. The boys run towards the car screaming and upset that they were all kicked out when they didn't do anything. Of course Kendal claims it wasn't his fault. The girls dropped the F-bomb on him first.

I verify the story with the head life-guard. It's true the girls did curse at him first, but he over reacted and his volume was turned on loudspeaker. I can only imagine the whole scene as other parents of small children nearby are horrified by his behavior. A few of them chime in their two cents, which is like adding fire-crackers to a smoldering flame. The crescendo was being disrespectful to any adult who crossed his path. Once you set off a kid with Asperger' takes time and patience to rain him back in. He has to get away from the situation, calm down. Then of course he is apologetic for his behavior, angry and self loathing because of his lack of control.

The natural consequence is that he is suspended from city pools for one week. I added that he will not attend a public pool with out my presence until I can be assured of self-control, which is never. From now on he will swim at our local pool or another pool where we have membership and I will be present. So much for inner-peace.

BTW -one might ask, "Why didn't your husband go and handle the situation instead of calling you out of your class? What was he doing was he too far away?" When we got home -he was laying across the bed watching the All-star game. His reason for not going was that he was too stressed out after dealing with "21" earlier in the day. Mind you...he made one phone call to our son. I talked to him, texted him half a dozen times then followed up with the creditor.

This is why I don't work outside of home. These boys -even the one that's out of the house, are more than a full-time job.


Down Dog

For the first time in over a week -I made it to an exercise class. For the first time since the beginning of the summer, I attended Yoga. My schedule has been so screwed up with the boys out of school. Their appointments, camps and play-dates that often interfere with my early morning Yoga class. Not to mention that my favorite yoga instructor quit because of being mistreated by management, but that's a whole other story.

Even though it's been well over 100 degrees for the past few weeks here in central Texas, this instructor had the bright idea of making it a heated yoga class. The heat is supposed to help us sweat out the toxins and help our muscles relax. Meanwhile, the rest of you is swelling from the heat, especially those of us who eat too much salt and don't drink enough water.

How did I manage to get away at 6:30 on a Tuesday evening? I dropped the boys and a couple of their friends off at one of the city pools nearby, as I have done many times this summer. I confess -I feel this deep sense of elation whenever I drive away without my children. This time however, I notice that I did not have my cell phone in my purse (slight panic). I left it charging at the house (what else is new?). "I'll only be gone for an hour," I rationalize. Hubby is at home and they can call him if anything comes up. "I deserve this hour," I tell myself. He's been off duty on a business trip for the past couple of days. I've been with them 24/7 well 24/2 anyway.

Did I mention that my day started off with another headache. I spent the better part of the day on the phone with our eldest son (lets just call him "21" in order to protect the innocent or not so innocent). I received a phone call from a creditor with whom "21"-allegedly signed some idiotic contract with, and has not been able to pay since he lost his job a couple of months ago. (Another long story). Let's just say I spent a lot of time trying to get him to face up to his responsibility. Why do I even care? I don't want him to ruin his life with stupid, avoidable mistakes!

Monday, July 13, 2009


I found myself craving alcohol yesterday. Poured myself what was left of a bottle of wine at exactly 5:04 p.m. I was so proud of myself that I actually made it till 5:00 since it was a particularly lonely day. Alan got on a plane to New York around 10 a.m. I wasn't motivated to much of anything. It's so freakin' hot outside in this miserable Texas summer heat. I feel like a prisoner in my own home at least during the day.

I spent the majority of the day drawing with pastels. I find that putting my anxiety into a creative project helps quite a bit. Not that I'm some great artist or anything. I just love working with colors. I do best with kind of abstract pieces. There is no right or wrong when you work in abstract. In fact, I textured the entire downstairs of my house with glaze. What I loved most about doing it, was that there is no wrong way, no mistakes. It would be great if life worked that way.

I called my dad yesterday, which is an exercise in hilarity. It takes a lot of strength lately to pick up the phone and call him. You have to prepare yourself for a certain amount of bullshit. I have to admit that he does always make me laugh. He finds a way to put in these digs about my brothers and sisters and how he never hears from any of them. He make outrageous accusations about their personal lives, which you have to take with a grain of salt and just laugh. Then you wonder what he is saying about you when he's talking to them.

We will be going home to L.A. for a visit soon. My boys can't wait to see him. They love him unconditionally, without judgment. I love him because he is my father and he did contribute directly and indirectly to the person that I have become. I tribute my love of music, my sense of humor, the calm and outrageous sides of my personality to him. I will allow the boys to spend time with him with mixed emotions and angst over what he will say to confuse and damage them. Some of my siblings have given up on allowing their children to spend time alone with him. I figure the boys don't get to see him often, and as he is 80 years old, we never how much longer they will have him in their lives. Besides they get a kick out of all of his cursing. They don't get to here it much at home.

My second drink was an unsatisfying margarita, which made me think I should stick with wine. The high is much more mellow. So I went to the store (to get eggs) and bought another bottle. It was a leisurely Sunday after all. Besides, it would go great with the pizza I picked up. I refused to cook for my little ungrateful heathens. Unfortunately, the bottle wasn't cold enough so it went unopened last night. I was actually proud of myself for going to bed without it. I confess...I did however make and partake of a lemon ice-box pie (my grandmothers recipe) that I don't plan on sharing with anyone if I can help it.

Sunday, July 12, 2009

How honest can you really be in a blog? I found myself thinking about that today. Do I really share who I really am? There are some close friends and family members who don't know me entirely. When people ask, "How's it going?" "How are the boys?" "Fine," I automatically respond. You don't want to bog people down with the truth. I mean you share some of your reality. How can you not? There are good parts of my reality. From the outside looking in -I am remarkably blessed. I am able to be at home with my kids full-time. Our bills are paid. We live a modest life. We don't have everything that we want, but we have what we need. I should be happy...right?

The truth is that there are constant aches and degrees of emptiness that are my personal blues. I share some of that with those I am closest to, but I don't want the judgment and opinion of some.

I confess here today that I take a small dose of Lexapro for anxiety and depression. Some might say, "Anxiety and depression? What do you have to be depressed about?" In comparison to some people, I may have little or nothing to be depressed about -but it's still there. Others may mask or self-medicate their issues with alcohol or food. That's what a number of people in my family do. I won't name any names, but let's just say, it's not unusual for some to drink an entire bottle of wine a day...alone. Me? I take my little pill and only have one glass of wine. You choose your poison. Sometimes I eat comfort foods -but lately, they have become less comforting. I also excercise regularly as a release of stress.

There are days when I feel great! In fact on those days I say...why do I take these stupid pills. I don't need them. Then I have one of those days when I get a phone call from my son's school, because he's having a meltdown, or heaven forbid, he's having one right here at home. At thirteen I've lost count of the times he has threatened to hurt himself in the past two years.

I haven't explained yet that both of my boys are on the austism spectrum. Kendal definitely has Asperger's and depression. Cole is more along the the lines of PDD-NOS. I will have to write an enitre blog devoted to how this affects both of them. Let's just suffice it to say today, that they are highly intelligent, quirky boys, who appear very normal, but they have extreme difficulty relating to the rest of the world socially. Add that to the fact, that Kendal is a teen, and Cole is a pre-teen and they are boys! I love them, but there are days when they make my life a living hell and I want to run screaming away from here. Every quirk that Alan and I have, they have multiplied times 10. From food pickiness, hypersensitivity to sound, hyper-focus, perfectionism, sensitivity to smells, talkativness -I could go on, but I won't.