With very little provocation, I grew a second head this morning. A demon head. It blossomed out of my neck, stretched and roared at my oldest son in a deep, threatening voice.
This child of mine, so beautiful in a million different ways, will not get ready in the morning. He must be dragged from his bed, given his clothes, and reminded constantly of the same four tasks that he's been required to do every weekday morning for six years.
He is not a morning person. And neither am I.
All of this is compounded by the fact that we must leave earlier now, so that I can get the bus. Each morning I have the kids, my friend shows up, drives me to the bus stop, then ushers my kids off to school with her own. And despite the fact that mornings were not much smoother when I could drive, I still feel guilty for subjecting them to a more complicated morning.
The whole morning drama only lasts 20 minutes, but it takes me the 30 minutes on the bus for the demon to calm itself, tuck its horns back in and disappear completely.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Days at the Beach
My youngest son had a playdate/sleepover at his buddy's last weekend. I promised W we would do something special, just us. What did he want to do? "Let's go to the beach!"
Crap. How about the pool? "No. The beach."
When I lost my license, the thing I cried about the most was that I wouldn't be able to drive my kids to the beach this summer. It's one of my favorite things to do--throw the boogie boards and the cooler in the car and just go. We're all happier at the beach.
And, as it turns out, it's ridiculously hard to get to the beach by bus from my house. So what to do? Because I really want to go to the beach now, too. The usual suspects for giving us a lift were unavailable, or had been pressed into service too often of late. (I try not to wear out my welcome). So I called a car service--Terramoto Transportation. They have a fleet of Priuses, all painted black with a cool hummingbird logo in green. They charge about what a cab would cost, but plant a tree for every ride you take. Nice, right?
It cost me $40 each way. They were friendly and let me stop at the store on the way back home. Not cheap, but nothing about this gig has been cheap. Water was icy, but W and I ate chocolate chip cookies and had a blast.
My friend Cindy and I hit the same beach, sans kids, the next day. We wore our bikinis and pretended we were in high school again.
And on Labor Day, my dad called and invited me to ride the 9 mile-trail to the beach from my neighborhood. It was an awesome ride. When we got to the beach, we hit the taco stand for chorizo breakfast burritos and called my stepmom to come get us.
I really have nothing to complain about. Life is good.
Crap. How about the pool? "No. The beach."
When I lost my license, the thing I cried about the most was that I wouldn't be able to drive my kids to the beach this summer. It's one of my favorite things to do--throw the boogie boards and the cooler in the car and just go. We're all happier at the beach.
And, as it turns out, it's ridiculously hard to get to the beach by bus from my house. So what to do? Because I really want to go to the beach now, too. The usual suspects for giving us a lift were unavailable, or had been pressed into service too often of late. (I try not to wear out my welcome). So I called a car service--Terramoto Transportation. They have a fleet of Priuses, all painted black with a cool hummingbird logo in green. They charge about what a cab would cost, but plant a tree for every ride you take. Nice, right?
It cost me $40 each way. They were friendly and let me stop at the store on the way back home. Not cheap, but nothing about this gig has been cheap. Water was icy, but W and I ate chocolate chip cookies and had a blast.
My friend Cindy and I hit the same beach, sans kids, the next day. We wore our bikinis and pretended we were in high school again.
And on Labor Day, my dad called and invited me to ride the 9 mile-trail to the beach from my neighborhood. It was an awesome ride. When we got to the beach, we hit the taco stand for chorizo breakfast burritos and called my stepmom to come get us.
I really have nothing to complain about. Life is good.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Where the Hell is That Pony?
Just missed the bus. Next one doesn't come for an hour. I ran, but missed it anyway. What to do? Call my friend. Tell her I'll be late to dinner, and look! Here's a Starbuck's! New York Times, free wifi, and a mint refresher. Some kinda funky jazz on the sound system. Could be worse. Could be better, but could be worse.
The new mint refresher is tasty. And I wish hitchhiking was both socially acceptable and not ridiculously dangerous.
The new mint refresher is tasty. And I wish hitchhiking was both socially acceptable and not ridiculously dangerous.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Ain't Got Nobody
I have one more DUI education class left, then my Sundays will be free again. I have nine more "group" sessions left before my Monday nights are my own. I have three "face-to-face" meetings with a counselor to go to, and a MADD program. I'll be done with all of this in October. And then I still won't be able to drive for six more months.
I have a good routine now. My bike and my super squishy flip flops get me through. Friends and family are generous in giving me a lift here and there. And yet. And yet.
I found myself home alone last Saturday night and really at loose ends. Kids had gone to their Dad's. In fact, I had earlier in the day met his love interest, and was musing over that. My own romantic interest had other plans. Many of my friends were with their families. Single friends had dates. If I'd been able to drive, I'm sure I would have taken myself out, but as it was I didn't feel like biking anywhere. I could do a bunch of housework, but it seemed like it would add insult to injury. So without a viable alternative, I watched a six-hour House marathon on tv. Made myself a burrito. Ate some ice cream. I wasn't depressed or unhappy, just at loose ends.
I'm not sure what this means, except that I miss my car. I miss driving.
I have a good routine now. My bike and my super squishy flip flops get me through. Friends and family are generous in giving me a lift here and there. And yet. And yet.
I found myself home alone last Saturday night and really at loose ends. Kids had gone to their Dad's. In fact, I had earlier in the day met his love interest, and was musing over that. My own romantic interest had other plans. Many of my friends were with their families. Single friends had dates. If I'd been able to drive, I'm sure I would have taken myself out, but as it was I didn't feel like biking anywhere. I could do a bunch of housework, but it seemed like it would add insult to injury. So without a viable alternative, I watched a six-hour House marathon on tv. Made myself a burrito. Ate some ice cream. I wasn't depressed or unhappy, just at loose ends.
I'm not sure what this means, except that I miss my car. I miss driving.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Fag Love
I have one cigarette left in a pack of Marlboros I bought last week. I'm going to make it my last. For now.
I've smoked off and on since college. The habit kicks in again during stressful times, and the last year has been a stressful time.
It's a nasty habit. I hate the way it makes my hands smell. I hate the way my mouth tastes when I'm done. I hate the way I can't breath when I'm biking up the hill to my house.
I hide it. I don't want my kids thinking it's okay. If I've learned anything about parenting, it's that they'll do what I do, not what I say. So I hide it. When they're engrossed in t.v., I sneak out to the front of the house and light up. I sit where they can't see me if they run outside looking for me and I can put it out before they find me. My neighbors must think I've lost my mind.
My favorite smoke is the last one before I go to bed. I like the first one in the morning, too. The ones in between make me feel enslaved.
I want to be around long enough to enjoy grandchildren, so tomorrow, after I get to work and have some coffee, I'm going to smoke the last one and then go cold turkey. And we'll see how that goes.
I've smoked off and on since college. The habit kicks in again during stressful times, and the last year has been a stressful time.
It's a nasty habit. I hate the way it makes my hands smell. I hate the way my mouth tastes when I'm done. I hate the way I can't breath when I'm biking up the hill to my house.
I hide it. I don't want my kids thinking it's okay. If I've learned anything about parenting, it's that they'll do what I do, not what I say. So I hide it. When they're engrossed in t.v., I sneak out to the front of the house and light up. I sit where they can't see me if they run outside looking for me and I can put it out before they find me. My neighbors must think I've lost my mind.
My favorite smoke is the last one before I go to bed. I like the first one in the morning, too. The ones in between make me feel enslaved.
I want to be around long enough to enjoy grandchildren, so tomorrow, after I get to work and have some coffee, I'm going to smoke the last one and then go cold turkey. And we'll see how that goes.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
The Waiting is the Hardest Part
I caught a ride from my AA meeting to my DUI class. It's all about alcoholism today. Some people go to church on Sundays. I work on not ever picking up another drink.
At any rate, I have about 45 minutes before class begins, so I'm just hanging out outside. Goes without saying that I wait around a lot more than I did when I could drive. Wait at bus stops. Wait at Starbucks if I'm early, or late, to the bus stop. For some reason, the dogs have been waking me up in the night to go outside, so I wait half asleep in the doorway for them to come back in. (this has nothing to do with losing my license, but it has coincided with that event, so sometimes it feels related).
Last week I waited at the courthouse to set up a payment plan for my fine, and then waited again to meet with the substance abuse assessment counselor. The thing I'm waiting for is not usually unpleasant. In fact, the counselor practically gave me a gold star for being in recovery already. It was nice to hear, and I'm glad I saved us both the trouble of him trying to convince me to get some help.
These DUI classes aren't too bad either. There's a feeling of camaraderie. They remind me a bit of high school. There are class clowns, pretty girls, jocks. Lots of rules, too. Your cellphone has to be off. Can't even vibrate or you get kicked out for the day and pay 25 bucks to reschedule. No tank tops, no mini skirts, no shower shoes. You can wear flip flops, but I'm at a loss to understand the difference between flip flops and shower shoes. Wear the prohibited item and you're out. No food, no beverages, except water in it's original water bottle. Don't be late, or they'll lock you out and you pay $25 to reschedule. The whole thing has a bit of an army bootcamp feel. I don't mind it so much. What I do mind is that to get here on my own steam, I have to take two buses. The irony of this nags at me. Really? It couldn't m
be on a major bus line? Or is this part of an effort to make life such a pain in the ass that we'll never drink and drive again?
I'd better go in now. Eight minutes left, and I don't want to be late.
At any rate, I have about 45 minutes before class begins, so I'm just hanging out outside. Goes without saying that I wait around a lot more than I did when I could drive. Wait at bus stops. Wait at Starbucks if I'm early, or late, to the bus stop. For some reason, the dogs have been waking me up in the night to go outside, so I wait half asleep in the doorway for them to come back in. (this has nothing to do with losing my license, but it has coincided with that event, so sometimes it feels related).
Last week I waited at the courthouse to set up a payment plan for my fine, and then waited again to meet with the substance abuse assessment counselor. The thing I'm waiting for is not usually unpleasant. In fact, the counselor practically gave me a gold star for being in recovery already. It was nice to hear, and I'm glad I saved us both the trouble of him trying to convince me to get some help.
These DUI classes aren't too bad either. There's a feeling of camaraderie. They remind me a bit of high school. There are class clowns, pretty girls, jocks. Lots of rules, too. Your cellphone has to be off. Can't even vibrate or you get kicked out for the day and pay 25 bucks to reschedule. No tank tops, no mini skirts, no shower shoes. You can wear flip flops, but I'm at a loss to understand the difference between flip flops and shower shoes. Wear the prohibited item and you're out. No food, no beverages, except water in it's original water bottle. Don't be late, or they'll lock you out and you pay $25 to reschedule. The whole thing has a bit of an army bootcamp feel. I don't mind it so much. What I do mind is that to get here on my own steam, I have to take two buses. The irony of this nags at me. Really? It couldn't m
be on a major bus line? Or is this part of an effort to make life such a pain in the ass that we'll never drink and drive again?
I'd better go in now. Eight minutes left, and I don't want to be late.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Paying the Piper
I am officially sentenced.
The DA dropped the resisting arrest charge after all. I was sentenced for a first-time DUI and refusing a chemical test. The judge gave me time served for the community service requirement. I'm left to fulfill the following: a 3-month DUI program and a fine. The fine is $1980. My lawyer cost me $2000. I have to pay the DMV $125. The DUI class is $477. I still owe my parents $550 for bailing me out and getting my car out of hock. Luckily, the court and the DUI program have payment plans. My parents are extremely lenient creditors. Nevertheless, paying all of this off isn't going to be a cake walk. I work for the government, after all.
I went to the orientation for my DUI class today and it was not an uplifting experience. I'm going to be spending a lot of time there over the next three months. I have to go to a weekly group therapy session for twelve weeks. I have to go to an education class for six weeks, and I have to have three one-on-one meetings with a counselor. I also have to go to three "self-help" meetings (AA). Of course, I go to 3-4 of these a week anyway.
Don't get me wrong. I am fully aware that these are the fair and square consequences of my actions and no one else's doing. They played a Tom Brokaw production while we waited for our numbers to be called to set up our class schedule. It was a documentary about what happened to a carful of kids who were hit by a drunk driver. One died. One was seriously injured, requiring months of surgeries and physical therapy. All the survivors were psychologically scarred and incurred thousands of dollars in medical bills--the driver was uninsured and they weren't fully covered by their own insurance companies, if they had health insurance at all. It was depressing. So don't get me wrong. I'm grateful and lucky that this is all there was. Extremely grateful that no one was hurt, or killed. That my kids weren't in the car with me.
But I think because I have been working a program and managing my car-less situation in fairly good spirits, I had started to put the events of January 16 behind me. Today was just a reminder that there is a lot more work to do. And I guess I was chagrined to find myself properly in the company of--there's no other way to say it--common criminals.
The DA dropped the resisting arrest charge after all. I was sentenced for a first-time DUI and refusing a chemical test. The judge gave me time served for the community service requirement. I'm left to fulfill the following: a 3-month DUI program and a fine. The fine is $1980. My lawyer cost me $2000. I have to pay the DMV $125. The DUI class is $477. I still owe my parents $550 for bailing me out and getting my car out of hock. Luckily, the court and the DUI program have payment plans. My parents are extremely lenient creditors. Nevertheless, paying all of this off isn't going to be a cake walk. I work for the government, after all.
I went to the orientation for my DUI class today and it was not an uplifting experience. I'm going to be spending a lot of time there over the next three months. I have to go to a weekly group therapy session for twelve weeks. I have to go to an education class for six weeks, and I have to have three one-on-one meetings with a counselor. I also have to go to three "self-help" meetings (AA). Of course, I go to 3-4 of these a week anyway.
Don't get me wrong. I am fully aware that these are the fair and square consequences of my actions and no one else's doing. They played a Tom Brokaw production while we waited for our numbers to be called to set up our class schedule. It was a documentary about what happened to a carful of kids who were hit by a drunk driver. One died. One was seriously injured, requiring months of surgeries and physical therapy. All the survivors were psychologically scarred and incurred thousands of dollars in medical bills--the driver was uninsured and they weren't fully covered by their own insurance companies, if they had health insurance at all. It was depressing. So don't get me wrong. I'm grateful and lucky that this is all there was. Extremely grateful that no one was hurt, or killed. That my kids weren't in the car with me.
But I think because I have been working a program and managing my car-less situation in fairly good spirits, I had started to put the events of January 16 behind me. Today was just a reminder that there is a lot more work to do. And I guess I was chagrined to find myself properly in the company of--there's no other way to say it--common criminals.
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