MIA

I have been quite absent lately. I want to believe that will change, but I've got one week left in my next to last class (EVER!) for grad school and so I'm really hoping I can stay focused for 6 more days... which means I will likely not be around much. However, I have a question...

For the three of you who actually read this, what age was your child when you stopped telling them what they had to wear? 

I'll explain why I'm wondering in a few days. Until then, enjoy your leftovers and the {hopefully} happy memories built this Holiday week.

Embracing Chalk

Flashback: It's Algebra class, sophomore year. At the start of class my cute little nerdy Grandpa teacher would have several members of the class write math problems from the homework on the board. For most, there was anxiety over being given a problem that they'd actually finished, let alone done correctly. For me, there was anxiety over having to hold a piece of chalk. The gritty, rough, powdery surface left my OCD self feeling like I needed to take a shower. I did not like it, not one little bit.

Fast forward to today and the years-long trend now of chalkboard everything and I have had an internal battle. I don't like chalk, but those projects are all so cute!!! I don't want to have to hold chalk in my hand, but I want a cute memo board like that!! I don't want loose powder in the air or grungy erasers or the smell or anything else that goes with chalk, but I want to be able to make cute chalkboard messages that can change on a whim!! When it all comes together, 1 + 1 = I made a chalkboard. 

It's sort of my equivalent of selling out, just on a crafting level. Should I feel bad about that? 

I used this frame, that I have used many times before for my front door. I had to peel off some hot glue from a Valentines "wreath" and replace some scraped off paint from floral wire, but this little can of paint + primer spray paint by Krylon was just the ticket to take care of that.

Since a frame clearly needs something to go in it, I decided to use the glass for the base of the chalkboard. The chalkboard paint can said it should go on a smooth surface, but I was worried the glass was tooo smooth. I sprayed a super light coat of the white as a primer so the chalkboard paint would adhere better.

No need to worry getting perfectly even coverage, it's primer! We're going to cover that baby up.

I already owned a can of the brush on chalkboard paint, so that is the route I went. I think the spray paint would give a better final surface, but if you haven't figured it out yet, I tend to work with what I've got. Using a nice Zibra brush helped get thin, even coats. I love those brushes.

I let it dry, then added two more coats.

I absolutely do not love washing paint brushes, especially when I want to use them again soon, so I slapped that puppy into a sandwich bag between coats so the board would dry but the bristles wouldn't. It works famously. You probably knew that already, but I seriously do this all the time.

Long story short, or short project long, that's it! Then it's just a matter of making sure the paint is fully dry, slipping the glass back into the frame, and replacing the back. It's almost embarrassing how easy this is and how long I've debated making one.

Man, I wish I could paint these doors.

It's only taken two whole months to find chalk, and I finally found it for $0.47/box at Walmart (despite the fact that I've looked there at least a dozen times already). It's kind of frustrating to look for something for so long and then have it be so very cheap. Not that I'm complaining.

Squirt had a great time writing on it and I can't bring myself to erase her note.

 You can see progess is being made!! It's sure not done, but it's so much better.

It's going to live {for now} on Baby Boy's door. I figure it can hold messages like "Baby's Sleeping" or "Last ate at 3:42 a.m." so I actually remember in the morning when the boy had his midnight snacks. Most likely I will slave over making some sort of cute typographic saying, and then freak out when it gets smudged, but that is a topic for another OCD counseling session.

Now that I've sold out to chalkboard-dom, I think I'm rapidly getting addicted. I have more projects in mind with no end in sight. Now if only I could talk myself into not minding the feel of chalk...

Major Changes

I've toyed with the idea of branching out and talking more about my family and the different situations that arise with a blended family. Goodness knows I'd love to read a blog where someone understood some of the unique qualities of my life. I always get scared and talk myself out of it. It is frightening to open up that way. It is intimidating to put one's struggles and challenges out where they can be mocked, ridiculed, or otherwise belittled. I fully recognize that the things which are hard for me may not be hard at all for anyone else. If that is you, then trust me, I am a little jealous. Some of the things that are hard I'd rather not have to deal with at all.

The ex is getting married in the Spring. I'm really happy for him. I am so overjoyed in my own marriage and family life and I want to believe that he can have that happiness too, let alone provide a healthy example of relationships for our Squirt. It's proving to be a bigger challenge than I expected.

The first hard thing is that he is converting to another faith so he can be married in his fiancees church. He has told me that he disagrees with some of the core doctrines but is going to do it anyway and that is hard for me. I could never align myself with a religion I did not believe in, and I saw what he went through personally when he tried to do that during our marriage. I am worried for someone I don't know and the possibility of things very sacred to her being treated with disrespect. It's none of my business, and it's purely my own baggage talking, but that is hard to watch. Rather, I have to be a contributor as well as observer because I have to submit statements so it can be determined if they are allowed to marry in the church at all. Trying to balance honesty, forgiveness, and tact is really hard when asked "when did the problems start and why did the marriage fail?" Suddenly all the things I thought were over, done, and locked away in distant memories resurface and bring the pain and despair with them.

The next hard thing is that Squirt had a really, really miserable summer at her dad's this year. Like, he tried to send her home after only five days (out of a three week visit) kind of bad. I don't know what happened but I do know that whatever it was is not characteristic of her. As a result of whatever difficulties there were, her dad has whined about her behavior enough that none of his family is willing to sit with her during his wedding. Granted, they had no relationship with her to start with so it wouldn't have taken much to talk them out of that. Since there is no one he can trust with her, there is a possibility that she is not even going to be invited to the wedding, despite previously asking her if she'd be willing to be the "best lady" instead of a best man. He keeps saying that he can't be in "dad mode" on the day of his wedding. That is clearly a part-time parent mentality. The rest of us know that every second of every day is parent mode. It doesn't turn off when we'd rather do something else. The worst part about it is that things have progressed to where the fiancee refuses to talk to Squirt on video chat and Squirt doesn't care if she misses the wedding.

Oy.

I fully admit that being a stepparent is the hardest thing I have ever done. It is HARD to step into another child's life and try to build trust and understanding. It it HARD to enforce limits that may be different than what you would do if you were a full-time parent in their life. It is HARD to keep a healthy perspective when time with a child is so limited and inconsistent. It is HARD to know that you are not the parent, and at least for a while are seen as completely replaceable. It is HARD to be a parent regardless, adding part-time or step to that just magnifies the difficulties at least tenfold.

So it's difficult. I want to be supportive of him and his role in Squirt's life, but I've been placed in a role that I feel makes me an enabler to destructive behavior. He is trying to get me to say that decisions I do not believe are ok, are in fact ok and that his life can be lived independent of how it affect our daughter. I have worked for ten years to protect this little girl from the pain of her dad's foolish choices, and now I am powerless to stop it any longer. Relationships are hers, not something I can dictate and control. Besides, I want her to trust her instincts and not force herself to like people she doesn't actually like.

So there it is. I never dreamed that watching Squirt get a stepmom would be just as hard, if not harder, than becoming one myself. Today she cried on the couch after school saying that she's afraid the new stepmom "won't be the best stepmom ever." That was hard. For the next several months, I am sure I'm going to be hugging her a lot and letting her cry on my shoulder. Then I will likely wait until she is in bed, cry over her pain, and go eat some chocolate.

Chocolate will be consumed in mass quantities in this home for a while.

There are still people like this in the world

To the stranger in the Walmart vitamin aisle:

I really was not trying to block your view, with my bulbous belly and my cart in the center of the walk space. I've been exhausted and had a month-long mental block. Despite the fact that I can alphabetize and I know chemical abbreviations for elements, I simply could not find the Iron supplements the doc said I should start taking for anemia. My apology was sincere, if simple.

When you responded that I was the most important person in the world right now because of what I was doing (having a baby) I was completely thrown back. Then you continued and lavished me with praise and told me how beautiful I am and what a better world we would have if everyone recognized that this was the most valuable thing there is. Your kind words, your smiling face, and your genuine good wishes in parting were more of a boost to my spirits than you will ever know. I don't feel beautiful right now. I don't feel like what I am doing as a human incubator is the most important thing in the world. I do feel like my slow movements and tendency to take up space is an inconvenience to others who may be in a hurry, especially in a big discount store.

You completely made my day. In that moment I was reminded of the beautiful things going on within me at this time. The discomforts, fatigue, and seemingly endlessness of it all faded to nothing and I was reminded, there under the blazing fluorescent lights, of all the joy and happiness and fulfillment that is to come. It was such a simple thing.

That one minute.

You changed the course of my morning, and I thank you for it.

Sincerely,
The pregnant stranger you were so kind to