Oldies But Goodies

I was hunting through an old journal (10 years) looking for something, and realized that some of the entries are hysterical.  Here are a few excerpts:

December 31, 1999

Evening

          Obviously, a special night: the last night of the 1990s.  Also, according to most normal folks, it’s the last night of the decade, the century and the millennium.  Some extremely anal-retentive, technical people will insist to the last breath that the new decade/century/millennium doesn’t really start for another year.  But we normal people are ignoring them.  Judging from what they’re showing on TV, there are millions upon millions of normal people, and many of them are celebrating in crowded public areas. 

          I’m currently at the office, having volunteered to do “Y2K watch.”   The concern over massive computer glitches kind of mutated into concern over mass anarchy, terrorism, Armageddon, etc. etc.  Some people are behaving the way they did in the ’50s and ’60s, building bomb shelters and stocking up on staple supplies like water and canned goods. 

          Carl’s niece Terry just had a baby.  One of her mother’s co-workers “warned” his sister that if Terry’s baby wasn’t born before midnight on 12/31, “God will just take it back and it will dissolve back into nothing inside her.”  These are people who actually run around loose and operate machinery!!

Thursday, January 06, 2000

          Afternoon

          Things are looking up just the slightest bit.  Yesterday I got my pay stub and saw that it was $2 more than what I usually get.  First reaction:  “They made a mistake.”  Next reaction, “Oh, it’s more.”  Third reaction: “Oh, no, this is the new pay rate, my raise, and this is all I get??”

            I picked up Carl at work, and told him the good news/bad news.  Then awhile later, I showed him the pay stub.  He went over it, item by item, and asked me about my UNICEF donation of $25.  “Damn, baby, you send them $25 a month?”  I told him, no, it was just a one-time donation and……

          Then I realized that yes, it’s just a one-time donation, and it’s just for this pay period!  Which means my next check will be $25 more, $27 more than what I was getting in 1999, and $54 more per month.  Not a fortune, but not bad, either. 

           Wally went to school this morning in 30-degree weather, in shorts, multiple layers on top, and no hat.  I yelled at him and slammed doors and windows, waking Carl.  Then after Wally left the house, I went into his room and took all his shorts away.  He won’t be allowed to wear shorts unless the high temperature for the day is going to be at least 70 degrees, and it has to be at least 45 degrees in the morning when he leaves.  Enough is enough.  He stalls and delays as long as he can, so he knows I’ll be in a hurry to rush him out the door, and uses that tactic to wear clothes that I object to.  Jeez-Louise, we’ve been having this type of war since he was three!  I remember writing a journal entry where we argued about shorts (and woke up Doug…), back in 1994.  The little booger!

Friday, January 07, 2000

          A high-gear, frustrating sort of day.  The most recent example:  I was on the phone, dialing Brother Fax Machines, because our particular machine is malfunctioning.  I’ve been meaning to do this for days, but was delayed by other things.  The preparations for such a call include: making sure you’ve recently changed the toner, because they’ll accuse you of not doing that; getting the model & serial number written down; finding the sales receipt and warranty info; finding the correct, updated number to call; being ready to stay on hold interminably.  Well, I finally got all that in order, made the call, and wouldn’t you know it, some guy from HR calls with a request for some numbers, which I had.  I hung up from Brother, gave Mr. HR the information, and when I went to call Brother back, I got a busy signal, because their queues are full.  Shit.  It’s just that kind of day.  People are missing their paychecks, etc.

          

Later:  Der fax ist fixt.  The technician told me to put it on the table and whack it.  

Tuesday, March 07, 2000

          We just learned that Wally is:

§         Buying breakfast every day at school (even though I usually give him a pop tart or something for the bus)

§         Buying a full cafeteria lunch

§         Also buying ice cream

§         Eating the lunch I pack him (which includes lots of snacks because he says he’s “starving.”

§         Not bringing home the payment details from the cafeteria, so I now owe nearly $17 in back charges for my little eating machine, who swears up and down that he never eats the cafeteria lunch because he hates it.  The lunch lady read me an itemized list of everything he’s eaten lately:  corn dogs, hot dogs, pizza, chicken nuggets, chicken biscuits, sausage biscuits, cereal, waffles & french toast.  To quote her directly, "Honey, that child eats EVERYTHING."

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Time is a River, or Some Such Cliche

My latest conversations with my son Wally have reminded me of the changes that time will bring.

Friday night he said that he is giving serious consideration to enlisting in the Navy.  His main motivation for this is the steady paycheck and the possibility of career enhancement.  I don't have strong feelings either way about the military.  Some of my in-laws are absolute fanatics on the subject -- every week they send me multi-page emails about the honor, glory and sacrifice of our uniformed services, to the point where it sounds like a fetish.  But at the same time, I feel no ideological hostility toward those who choose the military as a profession.  I do, however, believe these same well-meaning individuals are often very badly used by those who employ them.  If you're going to send someone into a life-threatening situation, you had BETTER not skimp on armor and other supplies, and you had DAMN WELL better not neglect their special physical and psychological circumstances when they return home.  Letting veterans languish with PTSD, or lie forgotten on a urine-soaked mattress in a mold-infested hospital unit is beyond unacceptable.
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A double helping of random

First, here's my Saturday Random Ten:

1. Billy - James Blunt
2. I'd Die Without You - PM Dawn (is that a moldy oldie, or what??!)
3. Teenage Confidential - The Flamin' Groovies
4. Black Balloon (live) - The Goo Goo Dolls
5. I Shall Believe - Sheryl Crow (I may leave Sheryl out of the mix next time)
6. In Your Eyes - Peter Gabriel

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Wallyology

I haven't blogged about my son in awhile. He finished his freshman year but may not get to be a sophomore anytime soon. If I thought a "smack upside the head" would make a difference, he'd have gotten one long ago from either his father or me. But he's locked into a pattern of making dumb, impulsive decisions and then lying when the decision starts to go wrong. As a result, he will soon lose his car and basically be disowned by his father, who says Wally has "worn out his welcome."

I think the only thing that will set him straight is being forced to be entirely on his own. No favors, no gifts, no safety net, no second chances, no benefit-of-the-doubt. He tells me a decent-paying job seems to be a sure thing, and I certainly hope he's right about that. He will need one. I'm a long way from giving up hope that he will start behaving in a mature manner. He has the foundation - he just needs a more immediate sense of the consequences when he hatches one of his hare-brained ideas. It can be said that both his father and I made decisions through the last 15 years that have contributed to Wally's mindset...but there is no way to turn back the clock. Even abject apologies from both of us would make little difference. I've used Carl (my husband, Wally's stepfather) as an example of things Wally shouldn't do -- quit school, start smoking, lock himself into a dead-end job and/or "up and move" when things get stressful. I think he understands the truth of this.

He has a girlfriend he seems to be fairly nuts over -- this is the first one he's really gone on about. But I'm uneasy that he may grab onto her as a life raft. I hope her parents are strict and protective, because if they're not, she could be vulnerable to the urge to rescue and take care of Wally as he bumbles his way along to stability. Click Here to Read More..

Any brilliant folks here?

I figured it couldn't hurt to ask:

My son Wally the college freshman is having a hell of a time with math. Specifically, advanced algebra / linear equations and such. When it comes to practical math, he's fine -- inherited that from his father. But his befuddlement at the more abstract concepts comes, alas, straight down the maternal line. He is taking the course for the second time, having bowed out with an incomplete last semester. He's even considered changing majors to avoid it, but every field he's looked into seems to have math lurking in the wings.

He's doing well enough with homework because it's all online and the program encourages students to keep looking for the answer until they get it right. But when a test is on paper, in front of him, and he has no other resources, he's lost. I don't think this is a "test anxiety" thing, since he's doing fine in all his other classes.

Anybody out there know any good secrets for fooling your brain into playing along with the course material and avoid the "oh, this is that stupid math that makes no sense and will never be used ever again after this" mindset? I'd love to hear from people who consider themselves major math-phobes but who found a way to chop through it and pass.

Any and all suggestions will be cut/pasted and e-mailed.

Thanks,

Wally's Mom Click Here to Read More..

Tough Love. Very tough.

Wally's father has decided as of today to cut him off completely. That includes college. The status of the loan I reluctantly applied for is still uncertain, and even if it comes through, it wouldn't be enough to cover all the costs. Though Doug is way down on the list of my favorite people, I do understand why he has arrived at this juncture. Wally seems not to learn from experience, if there's the merest chance of a bailout from anyone. So he will essentially be homeless. When he arrived in Doug's neck of the woods for winter break, Doug and his wife wouldn't even let him stay with them -- they found a friend whose basement was available for Wally to sleep in. If he came south and wanted to stay with Carl and me, I'd have to think very carefully about this. Wally can be an absolute pig; he and Carl seem incapable of being civil to each other, and Wally would surely find a way to put me on the hook for some outrageous expense, most likely under the heading of "automotive." And Carl and I are barely keeping our heads above water as it is.

I have derided Doug in the past for being stingy -- of having more than enough money and not in danger of being poor -- but the issue is something entirely different. It's about the value of an investment. When someone invests money, time, thought and emotion in someone, and that person shows no interest in using it properly, the investor begins to feel that those things have been wasted. Material things, in particular, seem to just fall down a bottomless hole. Cell phones get destroyed inside of 6 months; furniture is confiscated by angry landlords; clothes are "just not right" after 2 wearings, and crippling overdraft fees (paid by one parent or the other) are shrugged off time and again. Wally has truly squandered years of goodwill and care on both Doug's part and mine. Certainly, he resents us both for the divorce and the remarriage, but sooner or later he has to realize that the only person he's hurting by "getting back at us" is himself. Perhaps he thinks it would kill us to see him fail in life and that's why he's doing it. He's going to discover he's wrong. I think that time has come. Click Here to Read More..

Let's Go Sailing Down Denial River

So, I'm using a social-networking site to keep track of Wally. He obliges me by posting these cryptic little snippets, which I'm sure are intentionally designed to push every possible button. Things like "I don't like my new probation slip," and "I'm ready for an evening of underage drinking and intravenous drug use."

Now, I don't believe he does any intravenous drugs -- that really isn't his style. I believe that comment was sarcasm. The drinking, however, is another story. While he abstained after moving back into my home, mainly because he had no friends to hang with, he certainly did quite a bit while living with Doug between ages 13 and 16 -- his circle of friends was affluent and certain of their invincibility. Once he moved out to live on his own, the pattern reasserted itself.

Wally should not drink. No kid his age should drink, but especially someone whose maternal grandparents were both alcoholics, and whose paternal grandmother and uncle have shown a propensity toward substance abuse.

The most recent alarming post was that he had been kicked out of his dorm. This is finals week and he will soon be traveling back to Doug's neck of the woods for his winter break. I texted him with a brief question as to his circumstances; he called back and told me the whole sad story: Unruly behavior indoors, more unruly behavior out of doors, a window broken, police called, alcohol found on him, etc. There were a few "I messed up" comments, but most of what I heard from him was along the lines of:

• "It's finals week -- can't they give us a break?"
• "How can they throw us out into the street? Don't they realize we're thousands of miles from home?"
• "This is just another way they rip us off -- I'll have to pay to get my dorm room back and probably have to take some stupid sobriety course."
• "They were so NASTY to us!"
• "So we were making a lot of noise -- couldn't someone just tell us that without calling the cops?"
  
• "I hate having to tell Dad -- he'll freak out; he's known to be irrational."
• "I don't drink anywhere near as much as some other dudes on campus."
• "Dad says I need to quit drinking -- oh, like he doesn't? He's the world's biggest hypocrite."

After expressing a reasonable amount of sympathy for his immediate predicament, I took the liberty of reminding him (via text message) that it isn't THAT hard to make good decisions. His response? "K."

Within the last month or so, he's expressed the desire to leave the rather large university he's attending and return to the environment he's called "home" on and off since 2002. I asked him if "up and moving" is going to be his default response to any difficulty. True, he's been "up and moving" along with one parent figure or the other since he was five and a half, but his father lived in his childhood home until age 27 or so, and ditto for me until about age 22 -- for us, the frequent moves are a relatively recent phenomenon. No, this activity is much more typical of the stepfather he so loathes. When I pointed it out to him, it seemed to get through. But now I'm not sure. I fear that instability is the norm for him -- one mini-drama after another. He was in trouble with the law for petty vandalism at age 13; refused to settle down and abide by the rules when living with Doug and Judith, thereby getting himself kicked out and sent back to live with Carl and me; continually restless, oppositional and uncommunicative for the entire year and a half he was with us; one can only guess what sorts of scrapes he encountered once he moved out and was on his own before heading off to the university. I know about 3 traffic tickets, one of which I paid. He seems to have fallen into that pattern of continually craving "excitement" and risk, especially if it involves other people. I'm amazed at his level of extroversion -- this is someone who seems incapable of just relaxing by himself. Doug is like that to a degree, although for him it's more of a strong need for one partner. Wally doesn't seem satisfied without a throng.

It's sad; I have no idea what to do about him. This is not to say that the divorce and parent remarriages on both sides aren't at the root of it, because I'm sure they are ... but what to do? Divorce Carl? Have Doug divorce Judith and get back with me? Apologize for ruining Wally's childhood? I've done that already, to a limited extent. Wally's been in counseling with Doug, Judith and more than one practitioner. He is not a stupid person; he has the ability to look himself in the eye and decide to grow up.

Question is, will he? And when?

Edited to add: Reading over his remarks leads me to the conclusion that he's way out of control and headed in a far more grim direction. Time to tie up the raft... Click Here to Read More..

A Done Deal. And Now We Wait.

Well, the loan has been approved (which means the people at Equifax are doing some serious chemicals), and I am now on the hook for about $22K.

And Wally still firmly believes that Doug is going to pay it back and that I won't have to. He won't even entertain the notion that my suspicions and distrust could be justified. He cut me off as I tried to express my misgivings -- he was downright rude. Well, all righty then. I still think Doug is a slug; that he still wants to try to ruin me financially, and that this is his twisted way of keeping a connection between us.

Yes, I suppose Doug may have told himself at some juncture that he has behaved badly during the last several years and needs to let it go and start acting like a human being again, which would mean that he intends to keep his word...

...just as there may be li'l piggies with wings out there that I've simply never had the opportunity to meet.

It will be interesting to see what happens in March of next year when the first payment is due. We will see if Wally is singing the same tune. And I guarantee, however callous it may sound, that if my prediction trumps his, he WILL hear about it. In detail. He will also be informed that any and all future monetary requests to me will be refused, for as long as it takes for ME to repay this loan. The rest of his undergraduate experience, grad school if applicable, wedding, birth(s) of child(ren), and most especially, any "inconveniences" such as speeding tickets or other similar misadventures. He gets his medical costs paid for by me, and that's it.

Of course, if those flyin' piggies happen to show up, I'll gladly go back to being his mother again. Click Here to Read More..

Turning a Corner? Stepping Off a Cliff?

I had a long conversation with Doug regarding Wally's education.

Doug, Wally and I have gone back and forth and all around for many months regarding how Wally's college is to be paid for. To be sure, I've barely a penny to spare right now. I have Wally on my health insurance, which is quite good, and send him small checks when I can. But if I were the sole source of funding, Wally could kiss college goodbye. Fortunately, Doug put money aside some time ago for Wally. The downside of this is that in applying for financial aid, Doug's finances can't be considered or Wally will get none. The application used Carl and me as parent sources because we show up as poor (which we are). Beyond the small grant that Wally got, the rest has to come from direct payments or loans. Doug decided to go the loan route, since it slows down the rate at which he has to shell out money. This I understand. However, the loan application also has to be in my name. If it goes under Doug's name, he has to forfeit the small grant.

The plan is for Doug to write the loan payment checks. However, it's my name on this loan. So that if Doug becomes unable or unwilling to continue writing checks, guess who gets hit with a loan default?

There was this concern, and also Wally's odd behavior. I'd almost be willing to bet that he's been up to something. He's asked me for my social security number a couple of times; he's gone on the school's website with me on the phone. Every time I go onto the website, I end up with a dead end. So he goes on the website, using my information, and somehow gets through. Then he tells me, OK, a 'promissory note' is going to come to you in the mail or via e-mail; just sign it and we'll be good to go. After several days he tells me "I'm not sure what I did, but I got a note from the school saying you had to sign it, not me, so you're gonna have to go on the website and do this." Sounds to me like he's been trying to make an end-run around me, get this thing signed under my name and get it going without my direct participation. This would be because of the questions and objections I've raised, making it clear that I don't trust Doug any farther than I could fling a Steinway. Wally, of course, feels like he's stuck in the middle, and I think this is how he's attempted to resolve it. However, it didn't work for him. So now it's back to me.

Coincidentally (not), Doug calls me, ostensibly to wish me a happy birthday and invites me to call him if I "want to talk about anything." So I called him; we talked; I expressed my very valid concerns about this loan thing.

Here's where we ended up: Yes, it's true that Doug could screw me over royally if he decided to stop writing checks. However, here's the nugget I got from this. Wally getting a college degree is a very high priority for Doug. Perhaps the highest. So, he says, he's willing to do whatever it takes to achieve that.

If he stops writing checks, yeah, it would put me in default of the loan. But it could also put an end to Wally's education. I think he's sincere about this, and I think I'm probably not completely helpless in this thing. If he tried to back out of paying this, I believe I would have some recourse. I may not be able to go after him directly, but I could put some interested parties on his trail.

More than anything, I sense that Wally is under a huge amount of strain regarding the hostility between Doug and me.

Doug said "Wally needs to get a degree." I answered "He needs to get a job." A moment later, I played the tape back to myself and decided I was voicing a lower-class mentality, and it echoed some of what I internalized -- the idea that being employed is more important than being educated. It was this mindset that led to me dropping out of college to enter the workforce because it made me feel more like an adult. During the years since our divorce, I've become aware of a class gulf of sorts between Doug and me. He's done much better money-wise and class-wise than I have. I had been fairly upwardly mobile during the time we were married, but at some point, I retreated back to my blue-collar roots (becoming an evangelical Christian was part of that). Meanwhile, I've filed Chapter 7, maxed out credit cards, and basically descended several rungs down the social ladder.

I hate to admit it more than anything, but Doug is right about that, at least. Getting the college degree is more important for Wally in the long term than being a schlub chasing a paycheck. I have been so hostile toward Doug for so long (probably going back to the days before we even moved in together), that I've adopted a "whatever Doug is in favor of, I'm completely against!" type of stance. I've long known that my relationship with Doug was like a 15-year extension on my childhood -- I moved out of my parents' house and into his, and simply continued my stubborn, short-sighted patterns. In fact, I even replicated what my parents had: Dad was into order and success. Mom was into chaos and self-sabotage.

It's one thing for me to opt for a life that's just a few millimeters above trailer-trash, but I shouldn't drag Wally down into that as well.

Long & short of it: I'll sign the goddamn promissory note and hope Doug doesn't decide to get greedy or ugly and leave me holding the bag.
---
Nothing beyond this point... Click Here to Read More..

Checking in with a Quick & Shallow Update

After being advised a week or two ago that I'm pre-diabetic, I've stepped up my weight-loss efforts. The result is a loss of 3 lbs, which normally would make me say "So what?" since usually the first 3 lbs is just water ... but it's really the first time my weight has gone down AT ALL in a couple of years. As a corollary, there's the money situation, which is actually helping in an odd sort of way. We haven't the money to stock up food-wise; we tend to buy enough for a day or two. So Carl buys his all-important meat; I head for the produce and dairy aisles and keep myself supplied with salads and yogurt. Also those Carl Buddig 90-calorie one-sandwich-at-a-time packets that sell for less than a dollar. I'd swear my hair has more red in it lately, with all the carrots I've been eating...

This weekend promises to be absolutely jam-packed, especially with neighborhood activities -- fall festival next Saturday. Next Thursday, a vacation day. Already overbooked.

Wally's birthday is coming up and I'm hoping to be able to send him something. Looking forward to the start of the year, since the company will be offering flexible spending accounts and I found that very helpful a few years back.

My bff hasn't called or e-mailed lately; I assume she's paralyzed with shock. She frequently sends me her latest Obama-is-a-muslim-we're-all-doomed 2nd-hand screed. I just skim through the stupidity and delete with no comment. Lately, though, there have been some great essays on some of the hypocrisy that surrounds the Obama-vs-Palin brouhaha and I gave in to the temptation to share one with her. She'd BETTER not take offense at one pro-Obama e-mail after all the stuff she and others have flooded me with over the years.

I'm looking forward to the presidential debates (I think), but am especially looking forward to November 4th just getting here, already. Click Here to Read More..

Even Soap Operas Occasionally Take a Hiatus

Well actually, they don't, but I'm happy to report that mine is. Doug and I are once again on the same page with regard to Wally. The youngster has been posting all kinds of worrisome crap on Facebook and not explaining it. His stepmother (who I haven't gotten around to naming yet...let's call her Judith) finally called me directly because she's not getting any useful information from Doug, and Doug's not getting anything useful (and little that's truthful) from Wally. I'm hoping that Wally will understand that the TYPICAL college freshman has parents who check up on him. This may be the most stable home he's had since early 2006. The notion that his parents have stopped taking pot shots at each other seems to appeal to him, so maybe he in turn will relax his defensive stance and start acting more his age (meaning a little more naive and innocent, less like a 35-year-old). Click Here to Read More..

Wally's Back

My DS called this evening, in a much more conciliatory mood than he's been in since late May. While he's not exactly Mr. Warmth, at least he didn't swear at me or slam the phone in my ear.

Carl, of course, doesn't consider this good news because he once again has competition for my care and attention ... but a Quarter Pounder With Cheese seems to have soothed his mood for now. Click Here to Read More..

Wow, I Actually Heard From My Son

For those of you who don't know, don't care, or don't remember, my son Wally and I have been more or less estranged for the past month and a half. This (in my view) due to him allowing himself to be drawn into the soap opera that plays in an endless loop in his father's head.

All contact has been extremely brief, mostly in the form of text messages. Well, he called me out of the blue this evening. Because I was right in the middle of a meeting, it was hard to talk, and it wasn't really a social call anyway. He wanted to (I guess) remind me that college would be starting soon and there are certain administrative tasks that have been assigned to me in this regard. I acknowledged the message and called him back after the meeting was done. I was trying to think up conversation starters on the fly; he answered a few questions and then told me had to go.

Needless to say, this situation is painful, but I'm trying to be philosophical. Wally is the same emotional & social age at nearly 19 that I was at about 24, and I remember clearly how much I wanted to distance myself from my parents. They've been gone almost 20 years and I miss them and appreciate them more than I ever expected to ... but I have to ask myself quite honestly whether these feelings would be here if they were still alive. I don't know if it's the loss or the natural development of maturity that causes us to appreciate our parents more. Most likely it's a combination of both, and it's not the same for everybody.

So I try to see the relationship with Wally through his eyes, and content myself with knowing that one day he will be in a very different place than he is now. He'll have a solid career, good earning potential, be in control of his own life, not dependent upon Doug or me, and able to see the humor and irony in some of the events of his still-young life.

I hope he will get to understand the truth -- about his father, about me, about Carl, about life in general.

And I accept that it may take a very long time. Click Here to Read More..

The Threshold of Adversity

Quick reference:
Wally's my son.
Doug is his father (my ex)
Carl is my husband now.
That's all you get.
---
In the midst of all the current drama with Doug & Wally, I've gained an even sharper insight into Doug.

Of the three of us, Wally for certain has come closest to experiencing true adversity. He had to live in his car for a couple of weeks. He was injured in a car wreck and hospitalized with salmonella some years back. And, most obviously, he's experienced the divorce of his parents. Add to that his level of stress at age 18 and I'd definitely give him the highest score for true adversity.

Neither Doug nor I had parents who divorced. However, I lived through 22 years of violence and alcoholic chaos in my formative years and have struggled monetarily.

For a very long time, I was convinced that my childhood was the definition of "dysfunctional." I've gradually come to understand that it wasn't a perfect existence, but by and large, my parents were decent folks with redeeming qualities, and things could have been a great deal worse. My parents shielded me from a lot of common realities of life, the main one being money. As the cliche goes, we were poor, but I didn't know it. At least not until maybe the last couple of years of high school.

Doug had two parents who were absolutely nuts about each other. They were kind toward Doug and his brother Frank -- not indulgent, but certainly not hostile or malicious. Those people just didn't know the meaning of, well, mean. It wasn't in their nature. But at worst, they included Frank, the first-born, in their little circle, and when Doug came along it was sort of a "been there/done that" experience for them. Or to put it a different way, Frank was The Heir. Doug was The Spare. It wasn't glaringly apparent to the casual observer, but Doug was treated as a fairly limp second to Frank. I witnessed this a few times myself, in the way his parents reacted when there was a dilemma. Anything Frank suggested was greeted with smiles and receptive attitudes, while Doug's ideas were looked upon with skepticism. As Doug tells it, Frank got into a bit of trouble in his teens and the parents remained determinedly oblivious to all of it ... only to become belatedly suspicious once Doug reached that age, and begin scrutinizing everything he did, even when he was a young Mr. Clean. Both brothers were pretty bright, but as different as two people could be. Frank was a hippie; Doug was a yuppie, right from the get-go. Frank was, and still is, quite non-materialistic. Doug, however, was IMO hard-wired to lust after money and to take the Scarlett O'Hara attitude that money is the only thing you can depend upon in this world.

Side note: I've been keeping a running list of traits held in common by Doug and my mother -- there are over a dozen of them, and this "money is the only thing that matters in this world" is yet another sentiment that they seem to have shared.

So Doug grew up with the sneaking suspicion that he wasn't loved much for himself. He was the odd man out, physically, in his family, looking like some of his mother's relatives, but not much like his mother, father or brother. He would often bitterly recount how his parents would leave him to get to and from sporting events on his own, either by bus or on foot if he didn't have bus fare, in the dead of winter. His mother had a falling-out with her mother and sisters. Not a violent one, just a decision to avoid each other as much as possible. Doug thought this, too, was some sort of psychic nightmare.

But in truth, he didn't understand real adversity. The family was never anywhere near poor. I applaud Doug and his parents for having what appears to be a natural, Depression-era sense of thrift and money-management. My parents did not have this. I've had to learn it very much the hard way, and have to admit that rather than graduating from The School of Hard Knocks, I've been left back a few times. Right now I'm still in the Remedial program.

I take it somewhat in stride when the money falls short. Since the divorce, I haven't lived in anything approaching an upscale environment. Possibly the last place we lived would be termed lower-middle class, while this neighborhood and others over the last 13 years would be "upper-lower class," with a more intense police presence and an aura of seediness.

The thing about Doug that led to this current battle is, he's been whining his head off about money, and I hear echoes of the guy I was married to for 13 years -- wailing about his idea of poverty, all the while I very much doubt he's ever seen dollar figures in red in his personal ledger. And then I shared my e-mail back to him with the same people he originally wrote to, and he's just outraged. He has enlisted Wally in his efforts to condemn my "bad manners."

In my experience, bad manners take the form of rocks thrown through windows.

Doug just doesn't get it. His threshold of adversity is so low, it's laughable.

Wally is showing tendencies toward ruthlessness, but at least I understand where it comes from. His aforementioned experience with true adversity has brought him out of it with no intentions of living his life on the edge of disaster, and preferring not to have anyone around him (such as his mama) that would tolerate living in such a state.

Adding Carl into the mix, as much adversity as Wally has seen, Carl beats him by many a mile. As I've written here more than once, his family was truly poor. Single mom, six kids, one bathroom, clothes donated or patched (with duct tape in the case of their shoes).

As for me, I don't know whether I'm "complacent," as Doug describes me, or just sufficiently at peace with my place in the world not to frantically fight to attain higher ground. Click Here to Read More..

A Planned Catastrophe

Yes, it did indeed hit the fan, last night and then today. Wally was the most obvious victim, and Doug laid it on as thick as he could. He is reveling in dumping all the crap there ever was between him and me onto our son. And Wally is falling right for it. I encouraged him to step back and not be sucked into this, but he is very confused and upset right now and feels he should be in it, since this distinguishes him as an adult rather than "a little kid who has to be protected."

So, why do I call this a "planned catastrophe?" Because I thought carefully about what I was going to say and how, beforehand, and then anticipated what the fallout would be. Though I'm not happy that all my dire predictions came true, it's certainly an improvement over my previous patterns of striking out in a disorganized, unprepared fashion and then being truly astonished at the backlash. None of this has taken me by any sort of surprise. I think that's why I can be so calm about all of this. And why there were so many bad moments for me in years past. Click Here to Read More..

On the Offensive

Doug and I are sparring again. This time I am not backing down. I have told both him and Wally that it is no use pressing me for money, since such a commodity is virtually non-existent for me at this time. It should get better gradually over the summer, but no one knows my situation better than I do, and I've been up-front about it.

Doug sent a letter to various parties, outlining his "need for help" in supporting Wally, and after consulting with a friend who has a lot of expertise in communication, as well as a son the same age as Wally, I sent back an e-mail (and copied the other parties he sent the first one to), explaining how my lack of funds is at least partly a result of some actions on his part and Wally's. I had sat on this e-mail for awhile, knowing that to send it would not increase his level of favorable regard toward me, and finally let it fly after getting a couple of "I-want, gimme gimme" e-mails from Wally.

This too shall pass, but realistically, I foresee a period of some estrangement from my son on the horizon. It won't be forever, but it hurts. Click Here to Read More..

Free

Wally came up with a good idea for me a few days ago, and I (like to) think that if I weren't already so stressed out, I might have figured this out for myself eventually.

But one of my lingering money problems has now eased. I took out a cell phone account for him in early '07, but within 8 months he had lost the phone and switched over to Doug's account. Before he could do that, he ran up an enormous bill for the month, for which I was stuck. Not being able to afford the outlay to cancel his 2-year contract, I just slogged along, paying the damn thing month by month and being quite vexed by the situation.

Wally (probably by way of Doug, but my willingness to give credit extends only as far as Wally) suggested that, since my number, unlike his, was not under a contract, I could just cancel it and transfer my number to the one he was using. Doing this was only as complicated as a brief phone call to the provider and a quick trip to the local brick & mortar to have them switch out the SIM card. I now have a few added bonuses: More minutes, unlimited text messaging (like I really need that) and a phone number with a local area code. There are a few people from our former city who liked calling me on the cell because it wasn't long-distance, but they are simply going to have to suffer :)

I've also been enjoying a bank balance that's (barely) sufficient for me to start putting money back into savings again, something I haven't been able to do for a very long time. So things are looking up.

There's also some "stuff" brewing with Doug, but that's for another post.
Click Here to Read More..

The Continung Saga of Wally's Car

After several months of paralysis, I decided on a course of action regarding Wally's car.

I mentioned this in my long posts about Wally in Feb and March, but there's this car sitting in the parking lot of a gas station many hundreds of miles away from where I live - I think it has a tarp over it but can't recall. All 4 tires are flat, and one of the windows doesn't work.

It's the car I bought for him about a year ago, which has been sitting at that gas station for about 6 or 7 months now. When I say "bought," I mean I signed the agreement to pay for it in installments.

The warranty coverage ends at the close of this month and I don't have the funds to renew it, even for 3 months. I've sent the gas station guy a certified letter informing him that I will pay only the repair charges that I previously agreed to, which come to $250 ($150 of which I've already paid). All he had to do was call the warranty company -- an (800) number, for Pete's sake. But he never did. Why, I have no idea. Perhaps he was holding out for the other $100. The guy who sold me the car thinks he's holding out so he can slap somebody with a mechanic's lien. Frankly my dear, I don't give a shite. The only thing I can afford to do right now is keep making those little bitty weekly payments until I get it done, and that should take less than 4 months. Then I'll get the title, and I don't know what will come next. But at least I'm doing something. If the moron wants to take me to small claims court somewhere down the line, I sez, Bring it On!!!

In other car news, Carl got a mailing from AARP, describing their auto club coverage, which is a lot cheaper than Triple-A. My AAA expires at the end of this month also and I think I'll make the switch. My warehouse club membership expires also. I really have to renew that.
Click Here to Read More..

I am a liar

In yesterday's post I said I had "no idea" what the problem is, and of course that's a dirty lie. I know perfectly well what the problem is.

Every time Carl or Wally gets some emotional twitch they go and make some drastic change in their lives that ends up COSTING ME MONEY!!!

• 1999: Carl and I visit NYC. Carl's never been there; he is in awe and sees muchos opportunidades for employment in his field. Conclusion: We have to move to NY ASAP. Sure, sez me. I always wanted to live there anyway. So I quit a nice, secure, good-paying job and sell the condo that I could actually afford, and pack up like a Gypsy and move to NYC. Get an apartment that costs me a ridiculous amount per month, take a job I hate, and meanwhile, Carl never gets off the ground with this dream job he thinks he'll get. He can never see past the short-term. The extremely short-term. As in, somebody pisses him off today, and he's outa there. At least that's what he did in NY. I suppose that would have been a good time to break off the marriage altogether, but having just been through a divorce a few years before, I couldn't get my head around doing that again.
  
• Similar impulse a year later. Carl is miserable at work, as am I. The only one of us who was happy was Wally. But Carl gets upset because someone makes a disparaging remark about the place we moved from. He misses his family - the one that makes him miserable. At any rate, we buy a house "back home" and move there a year after moving to NYC. I didn't have a job; I didn't even have the reasonably nice car I'd sold before moving to NY. I finally found a used one I could barely afford and it lasted three and a half years before finally dying. I was so despondent during the first month or two, I began to think about killing myself.
  
• On 9/11 I was at least working. It was a temp job but permanent hire was a certainty. But I was very preoccupied. Wonder why? So I applied myself very little to my job, even after getting the permanent gig. My performance was truly crappy and I got fired. It was the first time in my life that had ever happened. Not the first time I'd left a job with less than favorable reviews, but certainly the first time I'd been flat-out fired. That led to more than a year of temp work, and it wasn't always steady. Perhaps coincidentally, perhaps not, later in the year I ditched religion and things started looking up the tiniest bit. I got a long-term temp job that did me pretty well. But it wasn't the answer to everything. The depression started to lift just enough to get me out there on the job hunt again. Finally - a good break, and that led to the job I had from '03 to '06. Great benefits (even though I had to ultimately take Carl off my coverage because the minute I got insurance coverage he started having his phantom stomach and chest pains that no doctor could ever find a diagnosis for).
  
• Since I've known Carl, he's worked for: OHH, S&S, TB, RHG, TMG, CPRV, PH, a couple of other places in NYC, back to RHG, GC, BSP, CCD and now CB. That's at least 14 different jobs, and we've only been together for 10 years. My track record isn't great either: JRA when we met, then BHRV, BHRNP, CPUN, temp jobs, PST, PH and the place where I am now.
  
• Together, we've lived in 4 different places. If it weren't for Carl, most likely I'd have stayed in the condo and might even still be there, who knows? The BHRV job might or might not have lasted. I can't blame Carl - entirely - for my less than stellar work ethic over the years. But without some of the strife between him & Wally, and the money worries, I might possibly have been less preoccupied and scattered, and may have done a better job. Thank the ordered universe I've finally gotten it together to the point where I'm not late for work all the time and have the ability to assess the consequences of an action before I commit to it.
  
• But it's still difficult to buckle down and move ahead because of all these constant changes that cost me money.
  
• As for Wally, I can't blame him directly for a lot of that. Much of the situation we're in right now is because of Doug. Doug, who kicked Wally out when he could have hung in for another year or two until Wally finished high school. But no, he sent Wally back to Carl and me, just as things were going pretty well. Then he cuts off the child support, which I don't have the time or energy to go after. And at about the same time, Carl gets another of his "let's move to a better place" impulses, and as usual, I go along. I don't regret moving to this town. It's much better suited to me; I feel like I've flourished, at least socially. I like the job I do and the company I work for. But bottom line, we should be doing better, rather than struggling. We wouldn't be struggling so much if Carl had just behaved like a grownup. He was making good money and all he had to do was ignore the owner and the manager of the company. He knows he had a good thing going and was better off there, but doesn't want to admit it yet. True, the place could go under; they were in trouble with regard to taxes and other issues, but other than a late paycheck once in awhile, that didn't affect Carl directly. Week to week, he made GOOD money. True, the place he's at now has benefits. But here's the thing: Carl NEVER stays in one place long enough to make insurance a reality. He's had insurance twice and either dropped the coverage or quit the job shortly after getting it. If he dies, I'll have to go to his family to afford the funeral. If something happens to me, Carl and Wally will be substantially enriched. Of course, Wally would blow the money immediately; Carl would save it but not find any way to invest or supplement it.
  

Enough bitching (for now, anyway...). I have decided, while writing this, that I am going to do one thing. I'm going to hand Carl the bill for the carpeting at the old house, the carpeting we bought to make the house sellable, and tell him I want him to take care of it, and I don't care how he does it. I just want it done. Maybe it will spur him to do something about his income. Click Here to Read More..

Burnout? Fatigue? Depression? Whaaaaat?

I have no idea what the problem is, so don't even ask. All I know is, I feel less buoyant than I did a year ago. Last year was such a GOOD year, and almost as soon as this one started, I felt things going downhill.

Mainly it's the money (or lack thereof). I have been so drained, so sapped, mainly by Wally, since last Memorial Day. It's been one thing after another.

Now Carl has this new job, and OF COURSE he's making much less money. I haven't yet heard him say he regrets changing jobs. I know the last place was awful. He's faced with a choice: Endure interpersonal strife and a feeling of being beaten about the head daily while still making more money than ever in his life, vs. working in a place where co-workers help each other out, treat each other with respect, and the corporation has a structure ... all the while making much less money (and getting fewer breaks, which leaves him feeling very exhausted at day's end). At least he understands the dilemma. He always asks me, "Would you be mad at me if I got a different job?" I always say no. It's his life. Just as I wouldn't want him to be overbearing with me about my life choices. And he isn't -- he puts up with my never-ending whirwind of social activities. I know he wishes I'd go back to the way things used to be, where I'd get off work at 3:30, get home by 4, change into pajamas and just sit around until it was time for bed.

I still get such a kick out of this small city we live in. I love how you can walk into a restaurant or store and see people you actually know. I love how you can turn on the TV and see people you know on the news. I can't say why exactly, but it's so different from other places I've lived.

But -- this year, I find myself getting little flurries in my stomach whenever a new situation comes up. I'm seeing the negative in things a lot more. Last year I bought 3 new pairs of shoes all at the same time, something I'd never done before. I bought capris, tops, jewelry and makeup. Now I look forward with dread to going shopping. I guess because the money is so tight. And I owe so many people!

And I do worry about this neighborhood. There's been an increase in crime. We've been hit something like 4 separate times, just property crime but still. Too many druggies with guns around here.

Church is great, but I'm starting to see what one of the guys was saying about burnout. A year ago, no way.

I'm needing to buy myself a weekly-format calendar instead of the little monthly one I have now.

Underneath it all is money - that sense of doom, like the whole house of cards is going to come tumbling down.

I know there's a remedy for it, and it's ENTIRELY about attitude. Yes, my claim to fame on this blog is having a bad one, and I play it up for laughs, really. However, in the last couple of years, I've learned ways to really banish negativity and force through a positive affirming mindset. And it really does work. Even when I work on it for a minute at a time, I see instant results.

This too shall pass. Things will be good again, and meanwhile, I can build on what I know. Click Here to Read More..