leave a comment w your email and I’ll send the new URL.

UPDATE – April, 2010: I shut off comments… email a request and I’ll send the URL killer dot spice at gmail dot com.

I moved out.

I don’t get sympathy because I’m the one who left. It makes people uncomfortable to know that because they don’t know what to do with it. If he’s clearly the bad guy we all know how to react, which shelf those feelings belong on. It would be so easy to just say “oh, girl, he’s a jerk. you can do so much better.” But when I correct them and say, “no, there’s nothing wrong with him, it was my decision,” there’s tension. And the face with the searching eyes, trying to figure out what exactly went wrong. I get the impression that there are two conclusions people come to: I cheated or I’m gay. My answers are never good enough to satisfy people, and honestly I don’t think I owe anyone else an explanation.

I get it. I know how quickly I judge a man who leaves his marriage. His kids and family. I know how that looks and how it would make me feel. I wouldn’t be knocking on his door to be his emotional support.

No one’s knocking on mine.

I can bellyache all I want. I can feel shitty and look for a shoulder to cry on, but the truth is that this is what I wanted and I walked out. It’s hard for people to feel empathy for me when what they want to say is “hey, isn’t this is what you wanted?”

It’s true. This is what I wanted. When I have an emotional response though, it’s not about the decision. I haven’t yet second guessed the decision. It’s about adjusting to the fallout. It’s about coming to terms with the fact that I have to vacuum my own damn carpet. I have to fold the laundry. I am going to have to make sacrifices if I want to go snowboarding. It’s a big change and even though I instigated it, I think I’m still entitled to be upset about it. I was married for five years. It’s going to take a little while.

I wish I didn’t have to wear my shortcomings. You may argue that I don’t *have* to be this way. Of course I don’t. But seriously you try being severely overweight for 25 or so years and let me know how easy it is to “fix” your life.

Blah blah blah, angst. Grow up already.

Other news:

I saw Jason Mraz on Friday. He sang for me. And I guess the rest of the people in the auditorium… It was great.

The left mouse button on my trackball is crapping out and I spent a good part of the evening trying to figure out why my computer wasn’t responsive. Mouse failure is so much better than macbook failure.

My cats are crazy.

I thought he was just being obsessed with a new shiny thing. He saw something cool and wanted to play with it. I was mistaken.

“It’s Zoe’s,” he told me. Prior to that I didn’t know why he cared about it. I tried to tell him to just leave it in there; to not bother with taking it anywhere because eventually the owner would figure it out and see it when they dropped their lunch in the bin. My crotchety reaction was that we shouldn’t touch it because whoever dropped it will look in the bin as one of the steps back in the retracing process. Locating its owner seemed too much like work. AND I could imagine the daycare workers looking at me trying to explain where I got this seemingly unimportant piece of plastic and thinking “well what do you want me to do with it?”

Because this is the crazy that goes on in my head. Every day. I have no idea where it comes from. But it got me thinking about my son, and where his irrational thoughts will take root. Have they already? Am I too late? Is it inevitable?

Sometimes when we’re at the playground I don’t want to let him play with the other kids. I know that he needs to learn to deal with different personalities and temperaments in life beyond the playground, but it’s hard to stand there and watch him interact with other kids. He has this light in his eye and it hurts me to think that he will ever want to withdraw; that he will ever feel shitty about who he is. I know that he will face disappointment. That his heart will break. That he will be sad and feel lonely. And I don’t know how to deal with that. The worst part? I know that there will be times when it will be me who lets him down.

Now that it was Zoe’s I understood. He wanted to make sure she got it. He was being sweet and considerate and wanted to return this little piece of plastic to its rightful owner. So we took it upstairs to his teacher and they left it in Zoe’s cubby. Problem solved.

Sometimes parenting is harder than math.

While Hawaii may be beautiful, it does have bugs.

(Disclaimer: I don’t claim that any of these things are possible for me to attain, or that I would be a responsible person, were I to try to attain such things. It’s just a list of whimsy.)

We started the day nice and early. I packed food and fruit snacks in a backpack. I also packed the Hoppediz just in case. I prepared him for the trek by talking about hiking and trees and oh! A waterfall! I had him at waterfall. On the way out to the mountains I stopped for gas (sure this sounds unimportant but it’s cute, I promise*.)

Fast forward to the parking lot, where we see this:

It just looked so… big. And distant.

It took a long long time. Frequent stops to look at bugs. He was obsessed with picking up every ant in sight. And then I told him that the ants were just going back to their mommies and daddies after a day out in the grass. Did not imagine that he would take off with that vision. Next thing I know, he’s picking them up and placing them back in the grass in an effort to reunite them with their families. Cute, yes, but time consuming when you’re just trying to get to the damn waterfall.

And then came the attitude check for me. It’s not about the destination, mom. So I eased up. And we went off the path, trolloped through the tall grasses. We sat down a few times. He rode on my shoulders when he got tired. We chased butterflies. We got lost. I know what you’re thinking: It’s a three km hike that’s rated easy for kids and grandparents. How on earth could you possibly have gotten lost? I have plenty of people in my life who will assure you that if there’s any possibility of getting lost, I will find it and take full advantage.

When I realized we were lost we turned around. Imagine explaining to a not-yet-three year old child why you are turning around when in fact he is right, you have not yet seen the waterfall that you came ALL THIS WAY to see. “Really, we are turning around, but we aren’t going back to the car. We just took a wrong turn.” He did not understand. I feel like taking him out there helped him understand. The complexity of taking a wrong turn isn’t something I can explain to him. It’s one of those things that he has to experience himself, and take the time to realize that the scenery isn’t what it was supposed to be, and that maybe this isn’t what we set out to find. So eventually he did get it when he saw that we *were* going to continue on, and not just return to the car like he though when I said the words “turn around.”

We met random bikers who let him climb on their bikes and pretend to ride. We saw OMGMOMMYDOGGYDOGGYDOGGY!!! We saw horse poop. As we got nearer to the end he got more and more tired. In fact he spent a good deal of the hike on my shoulders, which let-me-tell-you is *not* comfortable at all. Finally we got to a sign.

I was relieved when I saw it because it meant we were on the right path. However, jonah was not impressed and turned around, starting back down the hill. A kind kind mom who was returning from the falls asked me if it was ok to give him chocolate. Of course, perfect stranger, give us some candy. So she gave us a handful of peanut butter cups. And I bribed my child up that hill.

“You can have one now, and the other two when we get to the top.”

In the image above his hands are held to his mouth because he is having the best chocolate snack he’s ever had. And licking it off his fingers. Along with ant crap and dirt from the day’s fun. I held the rest of the chocolates in his hat when I realized that holding them in my hands was causing them to melt. To this day he still pretends there is chocolate in his hat.

We made it to the top and took some really awful pictures. He was cranky and looking for the rest of the bribe series when I was trying to get him to smile in that adorable way he does for the camera, so most of my pictures just look forced, like a bad christmas card.

We did get one that I like. It’s out of focus and the colors are weird, but it’s interesting. And it’s his first hike. Next year will be even better.

*He still remembers that particular gas station and everytime we stop there he asks if we are going on a hike to see the waterfall and butterflies.