My greatest triumph

Today, I have been thinking a lot about this quote: "... the most triumphant moments are the days when I have no idea how I'm going to fix anything, but I get out of bed anyway." (It's from this great blog post.)

That's me right now. I have no idea what comes next for me and P -- it seems impossible that we could go back to where we were, and equally impossible that we'll have no relationship at all. We'll have to talk sometime soon ... there are work issues to figure out (does he come on an planned work trip in April? if not, how to explain the change in plans to the others involved?) and the dreaded exchange of stuff. I know I will lose it when I have to clear out my hard-won drawer. Him giving me that drawer meant so much.

I also have no idea what comes next in my career. Here, too, it seems all or nothing -- either I get the new internal position or I start looking to leave the company. As with P, I hope there's an alternative that I just can't see yet. My current company is such a safe place -- I think I'd have to assault the CEO to get fired -- and I need the financial security that it offers. But it's also not offering me the career satisfaction that the type A, first-born overachiever in me craves. And then there's all the history that looms when you've been somewhere for 12 years. You can't reinvent yourself. Plus, there's P.

For now, I am just focused on getting out of bed, getting through the day, and spending time with Lulu and Boo, who have no idea the comfort they provide.

End of the Road

I think P and I are done. I say I think because we haven't stuck with either of our past breakups, but this time feels different. No matter how much he cares for me, even loves me, he's not in love with me, and I need that. There's no one to blame -- he feels how he feels. It's just not enough. The rational part of me knows there's no hope and that I need to move on. The rest of me? Is absolutely miserable. It's a sad day when you have to put on extensive eye makeup so that when your ex drops off your children, it won't be immediately obvious you've been crying for the last 14 hours.

I hate breakups. I hate starting over. I hate feeling (even more) alone. I hate that I will have to see him every day. I hate that people at work will eventually know. I hate that Boo (and even Lulu) might miss him. I hate that we'll have to somehow exchange all of the belongings we have at each other's houses. I hate how much I already miss him.

This just sucks.

Mud Bath

The past few weeks I've been, well, there's no word for it other than wallowing. Down in the mud like this little guy, though believe me, he looks much cuter than I have lately.

Last time we spoke, it was Super Bowl Sunday (and all went well, even though Lulu and Boo were in top "hey, P's here so let's be as obnoxious as possible" form). But since then, things have gone downhill. Sort of like a mudslide, and not the yummy frozen drink kind.

(Warning: I read some advice today that said blog posts should be around 300 words. This is not that post.)

First, P and I started fighting. Over different stupid things. Last Tuesday it was over a dumb comment he made to a mutual friend about how exH sounded like a cool guy to hang out with. The mutual friend, B, is a tad evil and made more of it than it was, plus we'd all been drinking a little too much and I ended up storming out in tears, then waiting in the lobby of P's building until he came home, then arguing and crying some more (I told you, it hasn't been pretty).

We made up, then went out Friday night for lots and lots of drinks (hmm ... bad pattern already emerging) and had a teary drunken conversation about our future, wherein he said he loves me but doesn't know if he's in love or what that even means. More tears on my part, much consoling on P's. We talked about it more then and a few times since, and he's said he is happy with me and can definitely see a future for us, so I don't really know what to think, but man, it hurt to hear.

Saturday was nice and lazy, cuddling on the couch clutching our coffee. I felt better. Until I went home. And saw poor Boo's eyes, all red and goopy. Awesome, pinkeye. Again.

And then I got the mail. Which contained a bank statement for a joint account that exH and I have to manage the rental of our townhouse. Last month, it contained roughly $4500. Now? $191. ExH, who was not even supposed to have access to the account, let alone a check card, somehow blew through $4300 in less than six weeks. And I can tell you exactly what he spent it on -- booze and a lot of fancy dinners. While unemployed. And not paying a cent in child support. And asking me for money. How did it happen? He claims it was an honest mistake, yet he doesn't have the money in his main account to replacec what he stole spent. My discussions with the bank have been inconclusive. But still. How do you spend $4300 of money that YOU DON'T HAVE and not notice?

It was the last straw and something sorta snapped. I cried. I confronted him. I cried some more. In front of the kids, which I try really, super hard not to do, haunted as I still am from watching my mother just lose it after my dad died. I don't want my kids to feel responsible for me and my well-being, the way I did for hers. And yet, there was Lulu, peeking at me under the covers, pleading with me to tell her what was wrong. Her anxious little face broke my heart. I cried more.

I cried most of the day Sunday too, though thankfully mostly when the kids were otherwise occupied or asleep. I told my mother we weren't up for company when she asked to come over with Valentine's offerings. I let the kids eat popcorn and apples for dinner.

Monday, I made it into work, where I got the news that I am one of five finalists for an internal job I applied for. This might sound like good news to you, but this is for a lateral move that I am highly qualified for according to all involved. But still I am having to compete, American Idol-style, rather publicly for it. It's frustrating. ExH and continued bashing each other over our various crimes (him, blowing through $4300; me, calling him on it). Fun day.

Tuesday, P and I got into another stupid fight. He was in a bad mood, I was (still) in a bad mood (but not drinking at least). He was annoyed that I wouldn't stop whining (fair), I was annoyed that I wouldn't stop whining and also still smarting over the in love/not in love comment. I dropped him off after dinner, ignoring his plea that I at least come up and get my Valentine's gift. Then I went home and cried more.

Now it's Thursday. I'm feeling better. He seems better. The weather is warm and sunny, which always cheers me up. The joint bank account is still empty, but at least exH is moving all his furniture out of my house tomorrow, so I can start preparing for the arrival of my new couch. P and I have plans to see a movie (for the first time in our 13-month relationship!). So perhaps things are looking up.

Wardrobe Malfunction ... in honor of the Super Bowl!

P is coming over to watch the Super Bowl with us. I'm making chili, I've got wood in the fireplace stacked up for a fire, Lulu and Boo are pretending not to be excited that P is coming but have still asked what time he'll be here approximately every 8 minutes ... and I'm nervous.

I'm always a little on edge when P comes over. When it's just us, I think I do a darn good job of being a fun, smart, pretty girlfriend. I'm laid back, low maintenance, and I can give him my full attention, undistracted by sibling squabbles, dirty dishes, or Boo's absurdly frequent requests for food. (Seriously, he eats ALL THE TIME. I eat like twice a day. I don't get it.)

But when P comes here? I'm a mom first and second and being a girlfriend comes a distant third. Which is why I just spent 20 minutes trying on clothes to find the perfect "of course I didn't dress up for the Super Bowl -- that would be crazy -- but don't I look cute anyway?" outfit. Sweats? Too frumpy. Skinny jeans? Too dressy. Yoga pants? Too obvious. I settled for a gray and white striped tee from Old Navy and Gap jeggings (jeggings: great invention, horrible name). It looks casual but (I hope) sexy. After all, the kids can only stay up until halftime ...

I've got to start chopping onions for the chili now, but I've got a new "favorite things" post in the works for you soon. It's been awhile and I've got a couple of things to share (three words: no more vacuuming).

Also, a quick blog note. I've got a new friend -- Singlemommyhood.com! Check out their link on the right side of the page. If you're a single parent, definitely check out Leah and Rachel's site -- it was a life saver for me when I first began navigating the strange new world of separation and divorce.

Finally, while I really couldn't care less who wins the Super Bowl when there are no Manning brothers on the field, I think I'm going to root for the cute, clean-cut QB over the bearded one accused of sexual assault. But that's just me.

One Down, Two to Go

... Months in my no-clothes-shopping pledge, that is. I can't believe I made it an entire month! There were some close calls, I'll admit, but it's a good feeling to have gotten through January. Just two months to go ...

Not that I haven't bought anything at all. I love Craigslist -- in fact, I may never buy furniture new again! (Well, except for upholstered items. Those I'll still buy new. More on that in a sec.) Why buy new when CL has so many cool pieces for so much less? My latest finds? A Crate & Barrel desk & chair for Lulu ($100 for both) and a pair of super-chic Design Within Reach acrylic side tables ($100 each). Since I sold a rug and a chair (on CL, natch) this month, I'm only out $60.

Lulu's desk

I also decided to splurge on a new sofa with a portion of my upcoming tax refund. I have two couches now -- one is an Ikea sleeper sofa of exH's that I inherited when he moved into a furnished sublet, the other is a small leather couch that he and I bought along with two matching chairs about seven years ago. Both are serviceable and decent-looking, but neither is all that comfortable and both are too small for two people to lay on together.

With depth, comfort, and color (gray is a must) as my criteria, I first settled on the Lounge sofa from C&B. It had everything I was looking for and the price was reasonable. Perfect, right? But something kept bothering me about it. It just wasn't ME. I've always liked furniture with a slight edge to it, something you notice when you walk into a room. ExH's tastes were a little more, um, boring, so we compromised with more basic styles. (Note that I am gradually selling all that stuff and rebuilding!)

But I had no idea what sort of sofa would be ME. So P and I set off for the mall to sit on as many sofas as we could find. And in the second store we hit, there it was. Big, sprawling, yet somehow also classic and chic. A bit pricier than I had planned, but wait ... on sale! And it came in the exact color and fabric I wanted (a pewter microfiber/faux velvet -- easy to clean! soft! gray!). P sat on it. I lay on it. I took pictures of it and jotted down all the key info. Then, following my wait-a-day plan, I went home and slept on it. It will take 3 months to produce (in the USA no less, I feel so patriotic), enough time for me to sort out what to do with the existing sofas (hopefully exH takes one or both and whatever's left gets sold) and collect my tax refund and bonus.

Are you ready to see my new baby? Here she is! (Now imagine her in gray velvety fabric, sans animal prints.)

What do you think? Love it? Hate it? Unclear as to why you should care? Share!