Busy Buzz
I was only AssUming when I AssUmed the busy woman who rebuffed me at the daycare was the mother of the girl Big Sis hit it off with. The medical scrubs could point to any number of careers which would bring the age-appropriate woman into the daycare with two children in the same classes as Big and Baby Sis. Leaving that mystery be, our relations fell seamlessly back to the Busy People Ignoration Protocols. Yea, I recognize ya. I ain't got time nor interest to know ya. Nothing personal. The flurry of lies and pretense of her rebuff are still eating at me. Nothing personal, busy woman. I donae even know your name, rank or serial number, nor would the intel be useful to me at this moment in herstory. Don't make me pull busy rank on you. Trust that I have the rank to pull. You are only the trigger to force me to review more important and strictly personal problems.
Reviewing the strictly personals. . . There are most definitaly pieces of my first parenting career which I would like to avoid in my second parenting career. My end results were far from spectacular in that first career. My eldest son (40) honors me as "Toxic Mom" and looks like an extra from The Walking Dead on the rare occasion he gets out of bed. Quit trying to eat my brain, my darling cherub. My youngest son was a tortured soul at the time of that fatal carwreck. I donae believe I earned any parenting awards in my first career. Prayers in progress that I can resist repeating that bloody herstory.
That Busy Buzz is one of the elements I most regret in my first go-round. Retiring from my construction career to take charge of out-of-control adolescants **still** feels like too little, too late. I remain deeply shamed for having waited until they were both in the juvenile justice system to take that action. I still should myself like a Suday sermon over the yaddahs of those blahs. I still believe taking control of those adolescants was far harder work than running construction crews, sexism and all. Lord knows the payscale and work recognition was far and away shittier, with blood and guts on top.
As I shift focus from the child needs to my own adult needs, can I keep that Busy Buzz out of the equation? Can I find a balance between my strictly personal needs and the needs of these precious little ones?
Works in progress. . . Small bytes and long chews. . .
I have decided to start with workin the Grief Specialist links for my own healing needs. Works in progress. . . Indulging a few wishes that getting help was as justy as the folks who tell me to, "Just Get Help" seem to think it is. Hubs thinks he might need to "Just Get Help," too. I have told him that I will keep him updated on my own search but he needs to find his own through his own ways and means. Healing is a strictly personal journey. Not even wifey can do it for you.
On the physical front, we have decided to start with hiring a cleaning service to come in twice a week to apply spit and polish to the living space. Feel free to call it, "work" my friends. We'll even provide the dollars to prove ^it^. We have decided to sign with a corporation who can provide bennies for the worker and send new workers when the old workers become unavailable for whatever reason. Ply Busy Buzz here? ? ? Donae wanna throw the baby out with the bathwater. There be a time and place for everything.
I believe I really am okay. All this still hurts like a father fuck, but I believe I am holding steady. Sometimes life just hurts.
Replies
Arfie- I am glad you are working with a Grief Counselor-you have hardly had time to stop and mourn your loss. Don't let the other mother intimidate you and don't take on what she is putting out. It's her problem and not yours. Noone gives any parent a handbook on raising kids. Most of the time we use what we know and saw growing up. Don't be hard on yourself-your doing a great job!
I have only begun shopping for a Grief Counselor, Sage. Therapist shopping is even more tedious and risky than shopping for used cars poor folk can afford. In my past rounds through both those shopper joys, I ended up with something I could work with in place of what I thought I wanted.
Repeat, Sage, I do not know the busy woman at the daycare is a mother. She could be a hired caregiver as easily as she could be a mother who works in the medical field. She could even be an escaped mental patient who stole her doctor's life. Simple fact is, we have only spoken twice and it weren't nothing personal on either side and there is a world of possibility.
Thank you for validation and the reminder to be gentle. 'Tis all to easy to doubt from the inside.
With prayers that I amnae suffering manic delusions of granduer and grasping blindly at straws. . .
We might have scored more than a cleaning service today. The salesman/proprietor recognized our circumstances immediately and knew more about the car accident than I do. Apparently the tale spun into a local drama and the fellow looked like he could hardly wait to tell his fellow prayer warriors that he had found the missing orphans.
Dunno. . . Those prayer warriors could just as easily be praying to Jack Daniels.
Important detail is that the bid is promised for this evening. Full spit and polish for both house and porch, once a week. We see what grows.