Nothing quite like a case of the maternal crabs.

So my mother and Jaye’s mom were supposed to come and visit with my nephew this week. I’ve been planning for about a month, getting stuff ready for people. They’ve never seen the new place we’re in. I bought my mom and nephew the plane tickets. Jaye’s mom was the one who kept asking what we were doing this summer. I felt obligated to create some kind of vacationy happening for her. That’s why I invited my mom also, who I have an awkward relationship with anyway. Over the last two months, Jaye’s mom’s been hemming and hawing about committing. I mean she was at first, but once I planned it, she sounded like, “Oh sure, sounds great!” but no exact date of arrival. So last night I texted her about when her plane was getting in and she said that she couldn’t make it, gave me a bunch of reasons why she couldn’t make it… Drs appointments that sounded routine or those that could wait until she got back. She’s done this before, so while I was pretty irked, I’m not surprised. I’m not inviting her to shit ever again. Also, this morning my mother called me crying and said she couldn’t come because she has SCABIES. ..yeah. Scabies. I actually laughed into the phone. She’s 70. She has no idea how she got them. I believe her.. She had to look up what scabies were. I have so many last minute people coming to the house first thing in the morning to prepare for their arrival. Today we had the window washers, the tv guy, a handyman. Tomorrow we’ll have a painter, the cleaning people, and the gardener come at 8 fucking am because my mom’s plane comes in a 10am. Yesterday, I bought a tree for the atrium. Yeah. A fucking tree. Not one of them little ficus trees, neither. Seriously, I want to go to the airport tomorrow morning, run out onto the tarmac, and shake my fist at my mother’s incoming plane and scream, “SCABIES YOU MOTHER FUCKER< SCABIES!!” I told my mother to mail one of her towels to Jaye’s mom so that maybe she can get the scabies too. I’m so upset. Emotional whirlwind right now. *drinks lots of beer*


The first day of Kindergarten

I am filled with worry and concern for my child’s well-being. It’s not that I think that he’s going to come to any real harm in Kindergarten, where I just dropped him off, its that I feel that I am not equipped to help him if he needs it. I am deficient in the ways of social mores. I know how to fake it. I know how to cater to my survival strategies and tactics. These can’t be taught to a normal person, and I’m sure that my reasonings for things would only confuse him and teach him the wrong way to go about it. My way is how to travel in through the side window because I can’t see the front door. Teaching someone to scale a wall and shimmy up a drainpipe to break into the upstairs window unnoticed would surely seem an odd way to go about it to a normal person who sees everyone else going into the front door. I’m terrified of giving him the impression that he isn’t worth enough to go through the front door, as I was taught.

My mate was raised differently than I was. His race breeds and raises children that are prepared for hardships they might face. They are tossed into the mix and expected to be self-reliant, learning as they stumble along the way. They emerge emotionally strong and independent, socially forthright. My race raises children that are quiet and thoughtful, but largely dependent on their parents for guidance. I know no other way, and while I am very concerned about the social issues that my child might face, my mate has no worries, believing that once tossed into the river, he will learn to swim on his own just fine.

While it doesn’t appear that my son has the same level of social anxiety that I have had, I can tell he is nervous. One asset that he has that I didn’t is the ability to voice his thoughts and concerns without fear of ridicule. My thoughts and needs were forever trapped inside a box of fear, locked behind my eyes, serving only to confuse and frighten me. I do my best to soothe his fears and answer his questions, but sometimes I flounder. My biggest fear now is not being able to help him transition from aloneness to sociality. If he feels unsure and looks into my eyes for guidance and sees only that I am also unsure… they say that parent to a child is just another word for God. What does a frightened one feel when they look at God and see fear in his eyes?

When he is outspoken, he embarrasses me, and I reel him in. When he is ridiculed by someone else, I don’t defend him and instead try to find out what happened and why he did what he did. I don’t mean to shoot him down. It’s my own fears that I cater to. I don’t like social confrontation and would rather exit the situation in the smoothest way with the least amount of interaction. It’s the only way I know to get out of a social situation. I praise him when he does well. I swallow my nerves and cheer him when he’s doing something difficult in front of other people. But confrontation, especially with strangers, is not something I know how to deal with. All social interactions have a pattern, an accepted recipe that people follow. It’s a dance I can’t learn, and I don’t know how to learn. Unfortunately, this side-effect might be teaching him that he isn’t worth standing up for, and I would rather die than have him feel this way about himself. I was taught this, and it has left me feeling damaged.

I had the hardest time in school, mainly because of this. If I had felt that I was worth standing up for, then I might have voiced my concerns regardless of the fact that I lack the natural ability to interact with people. I don’t want him to feel the way that I did. I don’t want to be the one to teach him to feel that way.

Sometimes desert living sounds so appealing

There’s a mold issue in the attic. The landlady is having someone come to replace the roof next week because of the rot and leak and nasty. He’ll be here in a few hours to evaluate one more time before he sends the crew over with the dumpster. Yeah, I think we’re talking serious overhaul here. We are supposed to move our cars out of the driveway because that’s where the dumpster is going to go. He’s also going to take a look at why parts of the house don’t have electricity because he can’t send guys out if the outside outlets (out out out) don’t work.

With the rain and the heat lately, the mold in the bedroom and bathroom is really high. I know because I’m allergic to mold. I think Jaye is too because since this started happening over the last few weeks, his face has been getting more swollen each time he wakes up. We’ve been telling the landlady for months that there have been dark streaks leaking from the ceiling and running down the walls when it rains. There’s something gross going on above the bathroom, and I can tell you it’s growing.

At any rate, when my allergies hit bad, I tend to sleep 12 hours at a time – which is what I did last night. I didn’t really appreciate it, but I know there wasn’t much I could do about it. The roofer guy was horrified at the rot, saying that the shingles weren’t nailed on, there was no felt under them, and that all the wood of the roof would need to be replaced. Sounds like a huge job. Got to love a team of 12 strangers crawling around over my head as I sleep during the day, hammering away, probably wanting to come into the bedroom to get to the bathroom and replace the ceiling. I can’t wait! It’s going to be fucking awesome! :/

This is going to blow so hard.

Anyway. I didn’t talk to anyone online today. I took a long walk along the golf path with my family and then afterwards went to dinner. It was pretty cool. We made a list of things to do, and I worked all night on it. Got everything done that I needed to.

I wrote Dude1 about Job1. Received, filled out, wrote example article, and mailed back to Dude2 for Job2. Worked almost 5 hours for Dude3 for Job3. Emailed my insurance company because Dude4 for Job4 is a fucknut. I will stop doing Job4 ASAP. Only thing I didn’t do was apply to Dude5 about Job5, but that one can wait a little bit. Job5 would make all the other jobs go away because it’s full time and would be all-encompassing. I wonder if I could do that. Sounds a little like camp. Also a little like 12 strangers crawling over my head, banging away and wanting to enter my personal space when I’m really not wanting them to do so.

This could also perhaps blow so hard.

What also blows is that it’s 7am, time for me to sleep, but I think roofer owner guy is going to come around a-knockin’. Also I have a tax appointment at 2pm to get all that mess straightened out. I don’t think I see sleep anytime in my near future.

Oddly enough what I don’t want to do – at least in this moment, is go on IMVU. I don’t feel the pull, but not only that, the notion sounds awful. I don’t trust any of those people, even the ones I’ve had deep relationships with. I ignored it before because I craved it so much. I wanted those people to be trustworthy, and sometimes I made myself believe that they were. It is all a lie though. Every bit. And now, the more I pull away the more I realize that I don’t even trust the ones that were in my tight inner circle. I trust one only, and that one’s asleep in my bed….probably with horribly swollen cheeks. I should get him an antihistamine, poor baby.

Yay, Reality. You go girl.

I’m talking to this guy about doing some work for him, which is very cool. Thing is, I think some of it really isn’t in my area. I need to email him back, but I’ve been having critical shutdowns lately. This is prompting me to back up all my data, just in case I have to reinstall the operating system :/

Last night, I spent time with my son and mate watching a movie and then afterwards some tv. It was pretty cool. After that, I just spent time talking to said mate with no electronics between us. It was nice. So, reality two points.

Love your neighbor, not luuuuuuv your neighbor.

Today I spent eight hours on my job hunt, just like you’re supposed to. Looking for a new job is your new job, and you have to do it eight hours a day like any job to see results. I’m hoping this is true and not bs. I had a few good leads, made a few good decisions, wrote a fair amount of networking emails.

For some reason, even when I spend time with my son, he’s grumpy at me like he’s mad that he doesn’t get to see me that often. I have a feeling it’s going to take more than just one afternoon out for lunch and ice cream. Nonetheless, I feel good spending as much time with him as I did. Hopefully, things will get better between him and I. While I knew I was detached from other humans, it never occurred to me that I’d be detached from my own son – but he’s out there, a foreign object like everyone else.

There are very few ways for me to connect with a person from outside my eyes. One way that I’ve found is through sex. It’s like, that’s one of the only ways I can see their eyes, and then they can see me. Because of that, sex can mean very little, but it can still mean everything. Depends on the emotion attached to it. It can be a good bonding experience between friends. Being with one person really puts us in our own little bubble because I don’t connect with anyone else. It’s a lonely kind of monogamy, or a romantic kind of monogamy, depending on your outlook. I go back and forth. Being online allows me to have close relationships that I need (everyone needs friends), without going outside of my monogamous relationship. It works, for the most part, but what I need to do is spend more time with my mate and son – which I have already started making an effort to do.

This brings me to a quandary. What about relationships where sex isn’t a variable? I mean sure this means co-workers, bosses, teachers at my kid’s school, neighbors, etc. (I’m not a *whore* HAHA…ha. meh. Shut up.)  I just assume that those are the people that I speak to in a disjointed manner, and try to bring along my mate to do some human translating for me. But what about my son? How do I connect with him so that I can see him outside my eyes? These days when I try to connect…he can tell. He turns away from me or tries to hit me. It reminds me of the story I was told about when kids first start going to preschool and how they can show anger toward the caregiver instead of excited happiness when they are picked up in the afternoon. I’m here, but as my mate says, I’m not –here-.

My body is killing me and I’m not sure why. Maybe I’ve reached the end of my endurance for those 11 hour days. I was looking online and I saw that they will enlist you in the army up until age 42. I seriously considered for a while until I figured that with all the crying in the recruiter’s office and the abundance of gay, I probably wouldn’t stand a chance.

I have an IMVU account that I created to hold one of my signature screen names. It’s just a bared-bones guest account with no money invested, but I think I’m going to log into it anyway and kill a few hours. The clothes are noob and idiotic (even though its pretty idiotic to use the word noob), but I might be able to make due. Anyone that comes across me is going to know its me just from the name, but since the account itself doesn’t have any friend connections, most people won’t realize I’m even there – provided I don’t go into any gay rooms. Then word will probably spread pretty quick.

I worked all night last night and slept most of the day. I did get a chance to spend some time with my son, but not enough to his liking, and I really was too tired to do much of anything except want to lay there and groan. I figure I need to exercise more, maybe. I just need to find a bit of motivation.

I’m going to work some tonight, just a few hours. After that, I have a week off from work, and I have to spend it looking for another job. I’m so ready to go back to bed though, to be honest.

Ok. I’m done working and I’m trying to encourage myself to turn the computer off and go mingle with my family. I’m not comfortable doing so. And I don’t mean out-of-town family.  I mean my spouse and my four-year-old son. *sigh* Could be worse. The older three could be here as well. If that was the case, I’d probably hide back here regardless.