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Just Too Busy for Life in General

I can’t say I have had no time to blog, but rather that I have not found the time for it.  Made the time for it.

So I’ve been on vacation for the past 7 days.  OK, I’ve got 2 kids here and had the hubby here for a few days, but otherwise my time has been my own.  I’m left realizing that like Anne Lindbergh, these weeks should be a solitary venture.

What I have had reinforced by this time is that I’m not living the life I want to live.  I am busy beyond all reason.  My work consumes everything, leaving me nothing to offer anyone outside of it.  Despite my recent efforts to improve my strength via physical therapy – an act of desperation to save my knees – I don’t spend nearly enough time in the sunlight.  I feel bound by so many responsibilities that really should not be mine.  I feel responsible for outcomes of lives that are not my sole responsibility.  I spend most of my days with so much internal chatter in my brain that I simply can no longer focus on anything effectively.

The sea takes all this away.  The sound of the unrelenting surf is medidative – forcing me back to the present over and over again.  The sun rising on the horizon reminds me of the nature of life – each day a new opportunity.  I do not see this any longer in my home life.   I see the start of each day as one filled with problems I cannot possibly solve and the fear that more money will have to be tossed at this nearly 4 year old endeavor.  If I have to spend another $20,000 on something, it better be a trip to Fiji.  But it won’t be.

I’m making an exit strategy, but it will take a while to put into play.  We have threats and opportunities, and in the end, I’ve still got mid-6 figures riding in this.  Hubby says it doesn’t matter and part of me believes him, but part of me knows that he won’t forget a failed investment of this magnitude.  If only it didn’t take 10-12 hours of my day, every day, to keep it afloat.  3 days a week even – that would be tolerable.

I’ve spent this week seeing my husband here miserable with doing “nothing”.  He’s hated carting kids back and forth to a pool or the beach, as they are too young to be left alone just yet at the beach anyway, given the shark attacks.  He left yesterday, finally admitting he really didn’t like kids.  Of course, I’ve known this for 26 years.  Problem is that before they hit adolescence, I really like kids.

I’m lonely when he is here.  I’m lonely when he’s not.

We’re going to have to find some common ground, he and I.  He is happy and proud to see me work – but miserable seeing me depressed and overwhelmed.  I just want to quit.  I hate to even type the words, because it seems like a self-fulfilling prophecy.  Like bringing a wave of negativity onto myself.  But these thoughts lurk in my mind all the time.  And they’re going to take me down anyway unless I figure out a way out that doesn’t waste all the money invested.

What would I do if my time were mine?  How would I spend my days?  I’ve thought about this each and every morning this past week.  I would read, write, put my home in order, prepare for the future when my body fails me.  Grow things. Find old friends.  Stop calculating and timing everything.  Move my body – find its strength and stop overfeeding it.  Think about things other than profit margins, and client satisfaction, and productization and balance sheets.

How exactly am I going to get myself out of this mess?

21st century travel and far away places

The first time I flew on an airplane was 1977.  I did have a passport as I was going to Europe, but not much else was the same.  There were no rolling bags – only heavy Samsonite luggage loaded with enough stuff to last me for 30 days in the south of France.  I have a clear memory of bolting through JFK with 3 other friends to try to catch a flight.  Back in those days the thought of flying was pretty terrifying – and I was easily made motion sick.

Today it literally takes about double the time to fly.  Bags have to be checked 45 min prior to departure.  Despite TSA Pre-Check, multiple forms of ID and careful packing of every conceivable element – there are delays.  In cabin liquids are limited to 3 oz (help me) all of which must be packed into a quart sized ziplock bag (what happened to sales of that product when Homeland Security decided on that requirement).  Sometimes you can wear a jacket and shoes, other times not.  Sometimes computers go out.  This last time plastic ear plugs (like you’d see on a construction site) were banned from around my neck – like the foam posed some threat.  The underwire in my bras no longer sets things off, but eyeglasses perched on top of my head will.  We wait in lines to wait in lines.  People drag bags into the cabin to save $25 to have them travel out of the way in the baggage compartment.  Gas is half what it was 2 years ago, but flight costs are up about 40%.

There is a lot more variety in the airports when it comes to food and beverages.  Of course, it comes at a price.  And then there is just the uncertainty of everything.  Will someone go nuts on the plane?  Will it be the pilot?  Are the mechanics overworked and frustrated?  Hell, the last flight I was on this week was delayed 37 due to insufficient toilet paper – which is deemed a mechanical failure and requires documentation of such mechanical failure.  However, none of us wanted to be on a 4.5 hour flight without TP so we sat patiently while they worked it out.  I wondered if the pilot was suicidal.  Wondered about the mental status of a passenger with odd affect and poor eye contact.

Flip side – I’m in sunny California where the weather is perfect, the people are thin and beautiful, and workplaces are literally so tricked out that they rival high end hotels.  Technology is king and youth is celebrated.  Cars plug in to charging stations and veganism is rampant.  Local university students are not lost with their noses in books, but rather in smartphone screens.  They don’t talk to each other, they type at some nameless person who could be 6 inches or 600 miles away.  Do they know what they are missing? Do I fully understand that which they know and I see only from the outside?  Questions.  No answers.

Family and such

Son has been to court (without me) and regained 50/50 custody (without me).  The “without me” part is an enormous relief.  I have little energy left for the drama that falls in the wake of his life.  I guess this has triggered this line of thought.

I didn’t meet my birthmother until I was 35 years old.  She was dead 2 months after I turned 36.  The story behind that is one for a “based on true events” movie, but the telling is for another day.  Even now, I don’t know the identity of my father, except that his first name (I think it’s his first name) was unusual (I know it) and that so many conflicting stories about what happened have been told that the truth is now lost to those who no longer are among us.  I also know that I really like to listen to Tanya Tucker sing “What’s Your Mama’s Name.”

I spent perhaps 24 hours (yes, hours) in the company of my biological mother during my entire lifetime.  She’s been dead for many years.  Despite this, I have to acknowledge that my relationship with her (or lack thereof) has served as the major driving force in my lifetime.

My “mother” – the woman who adopted me – could have no children.  Blame was tossed back and forth between my parents silently, but in that day and time there was no stigma to adopting nor to mothers who gave up their babies for someone else to raise.  People in general were expected to have families, and there was an assumption that if it just so happened that you couldn’t have one, that didn’t mean that you wouldn’t be a great parent.  The same is true now.  That said, the reverse is true as well.  People want kids for a variety of reasons.  In the 50’s and 60’s it was an expected part of life, a right of passage, and not much thought went into whether you’d be a good parent or not short of making sure you had a job, hadn’t been to jail, and weren’t actively in psychiatric treatment.  So, a lot of kids ended up in homes that were better than the ones they were born to, but sometimes still very, very problematic.  That sums up my situation.  My Mom had some very serious, undetected problems. Hell, in the years before I left I still didn’t put my finger on it and call it what it was – mental illness.

But I knew some things were off.  I guess the first time I realized there was a real problem was when I was 4.  I recall living in a large city in a high-rise apartment – 11th floor.  I was permitted to go down to the playground with my brother (2 years older) and play.  I have no idea what my mother was up to in the apartment, except to say that I was happy to go.  There had been a couple of mind-blowing incidents of bizarre abuse and Mom was high-strung.

Flash-forward in my memory and I’m talking to some lady on the bench at the park, telling her in all earnestness that my mother had been in a terrible car accident – she might even die.  I knew this was a lie – I just really wanted to believe it so much.  I know, those are not nice thoughts.  Oblivious, the woman then accompanied me back to the apartment only to find my Camel smoking, otherwise apparently healthy mother answer the door.  This was the last time I remember my mother having any control whatsoever when she got truly angry with me.  I think she had no idea what to make of it – this subliminal line of thought coming from her preschool daughter that she simply could not understand.  She tried to talk to me, but I was 4 and really wasn’t much in touch with my subconscious mind.  I promised Mommy I would tell no more lies.

More craziness would come.  I’ve got images of my mother screaming in agony while Dad and Mom’s best friend pulled her nude from a hot bath and wrapped her up on my parent’s bed.  Her expansive happiness when she thought she was pregnant once, and the raging anger and depression that fell behind it.  She never, ever reconciled the fact that she could not make her body reproduce.  She blamed my father’s low sperm count more than her blocked fallopian tubes and thyroid problems.  And through it all, her mental illness grew worse, and worse, and worse.  Her rage when I got my period.  Most of the crazy came my way.  At least I think it did.  I realize now that Dad would have never said.  He’s been gone for a long, long time now.

My brother escaped through drugs and alcohol.  I escaped through school and at one point, religion.

My whole childhood I dreamed that out there was my “real” mother – the one who if she only knew, would come and save me.  At one point I believed it was Liza Minelli – but she was too young.  I never thought about my father coming to save me.  I had a Dad who didn’t hurt me.  Anyway, no one came to save me.  Never happened.

When I did meet this person – this “real” mother who was to have saved me from everything, amongst all the questions she had was “Are you looking for a mother?  Because I can’t be that.”  I just told her, “I have a mother, but it hasn’t worked out very well so far. So I’m good with that.”

Mom is 80 this year.  I last saw her in 2008.  It took me until 2004 to really, really get over it.  My life.  That neither she nor I could ever be who the other one needed or wanted.  I wonder how much time people waste on what are supposed to be really important relationships in a life, only to discover this is their hard truth?  Some waste a lifetime.

April

I missed March – well, didn’t really miss it, but didn’t post about it.  In the long run, it was pretty confusing.  April is definitely coming in like a lion, too.

Heard from son in a reasonable way for first time in over 7 years.  Saw a grandchild with his permission.  I know he wants something from me – he is in a battle with his ex regarding custody.  I don’t have much to offer him after so many years of hatred toward me.  I’m trying to be there for him on some level without being consumed by him.  This is very, very difficult

My oldest grandson’s mother has decided to abandon her house and her existing life in favor of another one without real form or substance.  It is substantially farther away and will make seeing my pre-teen grandson difficult.  But hey, pre-teens aren’t exactly into the grandparent scene anyway.  As it should be.

Sales are terrible, but that’s given me a much needed break for taxes, sorting, organizing and some thinking.  Formulating a marketing plan in my head.  Going to break out a couple new products in 2015.  Just need to keep enough drive to bring them to fruition.

Kitchen is done – sort of.  A week after we signed off on it one of the cabinets is lilting badly.  Sent a second message this morning to the contractor – waiting to hear back.  Has to be fixed.

In my world, Saturdays are typically dedicated to cleaning because I have wicked allergies, we live with 3 cats, and folks and coming and going in and out of the house all the time.  These past few weekends, my time has been dedicated to taxes.  This weekend is a split – part tax, part cleaning, part hair coloring.

After what is essentially a lifetime of cooking and cleaning, I can honestly say that I am over it.  If I had my way, I’d have daily help for pickup, clean up and meals.  No justifying that expense though.  Funny how in the end, we have it sometimes.  Thinking of retirement homes, facilities, etc.  Of course, all that for a price – loss off control over your life and your body.

But today, I whine:  I really am sick of spending at least one full day off cleaning, doing laundry, and foraging for weekly food.  Meh.

Running to keep up

First – Happy birthday to my only granddaughter.  You know who you are.  You don’t yet know you’ve met me, but you’ll know some day.

New office property closed on Thursday and the moving and painting has gone full-force since then.  As of today, there are only a handful of items in the old office.  The new office has three rooms painted – 5 to go.  😦   Internet connectivity established today and Diet Coke stocked in the fridge.  Of course, the computers aren’t actually hooked up and there’s a forecast for snow again tomorrow.  My left knee is in shambles and my doc’s office called 4 (FOUR) times on Friday to be sure I’m showing up tomorrow at 11:15am.

No word back from crazy RFP – but frankly, I have concerns since the last parting shot that procurement made to me was to demand that I work for no payment until Phase 1 was completed.  Of course this could be 2-4 month and hundreds of hours.  This really doesn’t work for me.  I countered with 15 April, whichever is sooner and I’ve heard not word one since.

Team is heading into town in March in part to celebrate hubby’s birthday and in part to refocus, regroup, and reestablish exactly who we are and where we’re going.

The only thing that is clear right now is that we’re going there in a nice building.

Can’t quite figure out this February

Drama rages on all around me.  Clients lost to competitors.  Just got out of a meeting where a procurement officer evaluating an RFP really wants the numbers in different places.  Apparently, I am supposed to be able to read their minds and give them what ever other vendor gives them.   Procurement is worried that the RFP proposal could become and endless pull on their resources.  Exactly how this is possible when it has a bottom line – I cannot figure out.  I just need to see some of these other RFPs to figure out what they are talking about….

I am a little concerned about business right now.  It’s painful to do all the work of selling, only to have the potential client select another vendor.  Problem is, the don’t want to tell you why they chose the other guy.  Trust me, I’ve asked.  Reality is that I just have to keep at it and find more potentials.

Kitchen is not yet finished and I’m not certain the contractor knows all that is still left on the list of “stuff to be done”.  We still need some cabinet replacements, a bar handle on the pull out trash/recycle area, screw coverings on the interior cabinets, one knob handle needs to be found, and there’s trim near the end of the cabinetry next to the garage door that must be put in place.  Add to that the need for a bit more filler in some places and I think we are done.

We still have a garage full of stuff, some of which will be transported to the new office.  Bad weather is on the way, so today won’t be a day I can consider starting a move.

I’m tired. Wish I were in a little bit better mood.  I get to meet the Chief Academic Officer for grandson’s school district tonight – to discuss all the nonsense of last week.  I am soooo looking forward to that.  Sigh.

Can’t escape the drama

Soooo, Thursday I picked up my grandson after school, fed him and got him started on homework.  Suddenly, he said, “You know what the worst part of today was?  When a lady from CPS took me out of math class and made me talk to her.”  Yep.  The school called CPS for reasons not yet clear, but probably related to his response to the ongoing religious persecution he’s experienced in his classroom.  The class is comprised of kids who have almost all been together going on 5 years.  Teacher is a fundamentalist Christian, and at least one girl in the class has a father who is a protestant minister.  We’ve dodged issues of paper topics throughout the year, including one in which a discussion of the words “under God” in the pledge of allegiance was deemed too controversial.  Interestingly, the teacher delivering anonymous Christmas cards to each child’s mailbox was not so controversial.

So, grandson is pushing limits hard and has had kids whisper to him that he’s going to hell and that he must love Satan because at this point in his lengthy 10-year-old life, he’s pronounced himself an atheist.  Wonder if Grade 5 has helped push him that way?  No matter.  He did something inappropriate (wrote on his hand) in class in response and the next thing we know, we’ve got the school psychologist talking to him (without family present), the Vice Principal, School Counselor and someone else then doing the same.  Friday culminated in the visit by CPS (without family present).  Of course, this gal claims she asked for an appointment and was ignored (she mailed it on Feb 3, it arrived afternoon of Feb 5 – appointment was for 8am Feb 5).  Long story short, there has been fear, confusion, a wake-up call for my grandson’s mother, and another long hard look at the public school system.  We’ve got a meeting on Monday with the Principal who still denies that the school called.  Cowards.  Talk about violating a sacred trust.  This kid is in no danger.  How do we send him back to school knowing they will do this on a moment’s notice?

For the record, I was raised Southern Baptist, went through my own agnostic, New Age  hippie, try on a bunch of churches period.  I am now a semi-practicing Episcopalian.  I like this group of people because they respect the origins of liturgy, but are actually rationalists.

I do, however, rabidly believe in the separation of church and state.  At this point I want to demand that the school start recognizing Jewish, Muslim, Wiccan, Ba’hai and ISIS holidays and whatever else anyone can think of.  I would really like to see the kids who’ve been whispering “You’re going to burn in hell” to have a psych eval because,well, that sounds like bullying to me.

Work continues to be on a bit of a roller coaster and hubby and I had it out yesterday morning because of his sheer moodiness and taking it out on me.  I really just need a week/month without drama.  I’m thinking that might be too much to ask, but I’m still setting my intentions on making it happen.

Business, Family, Relationships

Week is coming to an end.   There has been much drama on the work front with a major supplier of software to us wreaking havoc with an existing agreement we have with them.  Hopefully, we’ve reached a compromise as of yesterday but my inbox is devoid of messages from them so I am by no means certain.  It is clear that we will continue to diversify in 2015.  This will mean some more long days.

Just for the record, owning your own business is simultaneously liberating and imprisoning.  The hours are brutal at times, but the ability to make decisions on the spot is usually wonderful.  Until you realize that you alone are responsible for any ripple effect of those decisions.  I know for a fact that if I had to do this over again, I would not.  I would be quietly retired and enjoying my retired husband (I think – another subject) and a life free of these particular responsibilities.  I don’t like the stress, the hours, or the amount of space this company continues to take up in my daily thoughts.  And yet, I truly hated working for other people.  I never, ever got the true recognition that I’d earned because to recognize me was a threat to them.  Duly noted.  No grandiose thinking here – I could typically do my boss’ jobs without problems.  Now I am the boss.  Cool, but it’s no vacation.

Retirement for my husband is a total coin flip.  He hates having days without structure or tasks by which he defines himself as valuable, capable, and relevant.  He and I often have power struggles over minor things and I’ve grown to feel like I no longer really understand how our relationship works on so many levels.  I am exhausted most of the time and he is either bored or highly invested in some project.  The days that should be filled with gentle intimacy are instead filled with what we’re familiar with – managing the logistics of the tasks of the day.  He doesn’t really see this as broken.  And I don’t really know how to start moving us to a better place.  He believes we have all the time in the world, and the people in my life have taught me that such a belief is simply not true.  What to do?

Oh – update on brother-in-law:  Stage 3a lung cancer.  Starts radiation and chemo tomorrow.  Age: 57.  Think about that.

Strange Days

So, since I last posted I’ve seen 2 of my grandchildren.  I’m not going to go into too many details here, but I had help and no one knows – not even these kids. I will say my disguise was good enough to fool my husband of 25 years.

My granddaughter is the image of me, but it was my grandson who took me back in time to when his father was young.  They look so much alike.  Only difference is that this child is so calm, so self-contained – unlike the hyperactive being his father was at that age.  But the language skills – they are the same.  How bizarre to hear a 3-year-old child speak in entire paragraphs and complex sentences.  How like his father.  I have a few pictures and a couple of videos, taken surreptitiously with my cellphone by a “helper”.  There are no words to describe how wonderful seeing them was.

In other news, the kitchen has cabinets (some with doors that need replacement), countertops, sink, faucet, and appliances.  Some shelf-paper has been laid and a few dishes put in place.  Floor is 90% finished, with only the toe molding and last bits of corner pieces left to be laid.  We still will likely have to touch up paint.  And we need to get a kitchen table/chairs in place.  But it is a million miles from where it was 30 days ago.  And for the record, a 65″ TV is awesome.

I’ve had company (a friend/employee) at the house for the past 4 days, so I’ve not been of much use in getting things back to normal.  Hoping that the weekend will bring me some time to do that.  Also hoping that we get the big contract next week.  And that we can resolve some contract issues, and that we have world peace…..

Changes, conflicts, deadlines….

The kitchen renovation moves forward.  Yesterday brought a trip to the southside to look at the stone and determine where the cuts might be.  I still cannot believe how beautiful this stone is.  After much back and forth, I think we have the correct configuration.  They cut on Monday and then multiple teams return on Wednesday to finish the cabinet work left undone and install this beautiful granite/marble (there is some disagreement as to exactly what it is).

More painting yesterday and tempers are growing short as the days are long and we have two strong willed people managing the project.  OK, let’s acknowledge that I am not managing the project in any way and that doesn’t thrill me.  I prefer having much more control, much clearer paths to completion, and much clearer communication.  Hubby is a lone wolf – keeping all the details in his head and delegating out tasks without any detail as to where we’re going.  It works for him – he’s good at project management.  But being on the receiving end of this style of management is not for me.  Right now he is sawing away inside the house to start getting the bamboo floors down.  There will be excessive dust.

Grandson’s mother posted pics of 3 of my still unseen grandchildren online to Facebook yesterday.  I long for Ember to look up and let me see her eyes, but seeing her at all is a huge bonus.  Her mother revoked my “friend” status on Facebook because I didn’t ask to see the children in the right way when my son had some moments of sanity.  We are back at square one.  At some point I will tire of all this and simply go find them.  Guess we will see what happens when I do that.  But know this:  Ember, Rori, Tenzin – I love you all and would be a big part of your lives if your parents would allow it.  Some day you will be able to ask your older brother about Nana and hopefully what he says will carry some weight.  In the meantime, I wait.

Client is emailing us today about a delay in work product which cannot possibly be our fault – and add to that they have not paid for it.  This is not making me very happy, and I’m sure the team that is now tasked with work on Sunday is less than thrilled.