Miss Tricky Takes Over

Despite the lack of my beloved Target in Canada (and the squeeze’s shockingly casual attitude about that devastating news), I have decided to stick it out and go through with getting married and moving. I am such a trooper. There are only three items left on my “have to buy this crap before next Friday” list that I am hoping to knock out today and yesterday we went and picked out our wedding bands. True to form, it only took me about 10 minutes of looking to find the one I wanted. Originally, it was very important to me to have old-school matchy-matching bands but since I went and picked out a vintage engagement ring plans had to change. We settled on a band for me that compliments my ring and a nice manly band with a slight vintage feel for Mr. President. In other words, we are pretty much ready to do the whole wedding thing. Go team!

After all that it gets easy- just pack, clean and say goodbye. Okay, that last one won’t be so easy. Anytime I talk about how much I love Philadelphia and how I will miss the dear friends I have made here El Presidente gets all crazy headed and starts thinking that I do not want to move out west. I DO want to go. I want to go very much, and I know for sure how much I want to go because of how much I love it here. (I promise that makes sense.) If Philadelphia were a place I did not enjoy I might be tempted to agree to an international move just to try something else. If I hated it here I would question my decision to leave. Am I going just because I don’t like it here? Am I going just to go? Is this just “anywhere but here” syndrome? Philadelphia has felt more like home to me than anywhere else I have ever lived. In such a short time I have found a groove in this town and I will be sad to let it go. I love this crazy town so much that only one thing could make me leave it. And that is that I am one hundred percent sure that this move is what is best for my little family. This is right, this is our journey home and I cannot wait to get going. I am thrilled that Mr. President and I have made this decision together without any tension or argument, and that The Spawn is trying to talk me into leaving for “Vancoooooooober” right now in our pajamas. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be sad to drive away…

Philadelphia has been good to me and mine. So if anyone wants to buy us a summer home out here just go right ahead and do it (South Philly if you please).

I got the okay to post our big news. Here it comes…..coming….coming….coming……now!

In less than two months, Mr. President and I are packing up The Spawn and moving. Wanna know where to? Of course you do! It’s the most awesome place ever……..it is also the site of the winter Olympics that are starting today. That’s right folks, Vancouver. We’re going. To Canada. It’s like draft dodging except instead of sneaking across the northern border to escape certain death due to war, we are boldly and legally crossing that northern border to live and work and hang out and build a family and to start saying “eh” at the end of all our sentences.

Now, raise your hand if you thought the big news was me being pregnant. It’s okay, despite my constant bitching and over-sharing about my IUD most of the people I know suspect that I am currently growing a person, so you are in good company. Isn’t this news even more exciting though? We are just picking up and taking off. We are so gangster. Do we have jobs up there? Hell no! But we will cross that bridge when we come to it. Starting April 1^st we are taking off on a two-week, cross-country tour of friends and family that will end in our new country. Well, it will be new for me and The Spawn…..for Mr. President it will be old and home-like since it is, you know, his home.

We are thrilled and excited and scared and hopeful and ready (oh-so-ready!) and impatient to go. Yay us!

Things, things, and things to do…I have a multitude of things to do. Operation “sleep all day Saturday” was an unprecedented success but has left me feeling a little shorted on weekend time. I keep hoping that one of these days I will be filled with desire to start checking items off my to-do list but so far I am not feeling much of a desire to do anything. I haven’t even sat down and written a to-do list, which is crazy when you consider how much I love to make lists.

 In happier news, The Spawn is finally starting to give a crap about this whole getting married business. At first he was dismayed that my ring isn’t blue (since he knows that blue is my “frayborit” color) and told us that we needed medicine when we shared our wedding plans with him. Since then he has come to decide that “little mirrors” is my new favorite color and he occasionally kisses my ring (it’s like I’m the Godfather!!) and tells me how much he loves the pretty ring that Mr. President gave me. As far as his actual comprehension goes, he tells us that the ring means “mommy and [Mr. President] forever!” which sounds pretty darn good to me.

 As for The Prez, he is thrilled to not have to call me his girlfriend anymore and is greeting me every morning with;” Good morning my fiancée…. my little bride-like thing!”

 And me? Well, I am down to only about an hour of staring at my left hand a day and just once or twice a week bursting into Muppet songs about getting married. I’d say that’s progress.

 Now someone please come move in with me and force me to do all the other stuff I have to do, okay?

So….. It turns out that I am not a “bride”. (I can tell how shocked you all are from here.) For about 3 or 4 days I decided to plan a wedding and pick colors and look at invites and all that stuff. People could come, pictures would be taken and food would be eaten. It all seemed like a lovely idea except for the crazy panic it was causing me. Thank goodness I have since come to my senses! I was having what can only be described as an allergic reaction to bridal-type activities. My stomach was churning; my head swimming and I couldn’t get any sleep worth having.

 And now, a mere 24 hours since Mr. President and I realized that what we really want to do is just be married to each other, I am 100 times less likely to throw up at random. We will be married, quietly and without fuss and are thinking of planning a bit of a tour of friend visits. In theory I understand the appeal of having a roomful of people around to share in our moment but I just can’t imagine anything better than a simple ceremony with my squeeze and my Spawn and a little romantic weekend in NYC to celebrate.

 I guess some of us girls just don’t have it in us.

I am a wedding planning goddess! Well, I am not sure it is going to be a “wedding” really, more of an intimate dinner with family and family-like friends where we happen to get married at the beginning. I’ve got invitations, locations, photographer, food and cake all set and I’ve only been at it for two days. (I think having a tiny little budget is freeing- so many fewer decisions to make!) Now we need an officiant, clothes and decorations and I’m done, right? Oh wait….. rings. Okay, still, I will get this little event planned and paid for with little to no stress and agony.

Now if I can only get over the crippling anxiety I feel whenever I think about people coming to stare at me while I take my vows…..

I am not sure why this has been so difficult for me to write. I keep thinking that this year’s newsletter will be rather anti-climatic after last year-maybe that’s why I have been putting it off. The constant and often painful change of 2008 made it very easy to point to exactly what happened that year; an ordered checklist was easy to compile. 2009 was much sneakier and quiet. But now that I am looking back on it, 2009 seems like proof that 2008 happened.

 This past year was about committing to the changes I had made. This past year was all about settling into the person I had become. 2008 forever changed me- old habits and ideas fell away and I got a chance to re-define how I wanted to live. 2009 proved to me that I have changed. When all the drama and conflict subsided I found myself calmer and more centered than I have ever been before. Here’s to growth and maturity continuing in 2010!

 The Spawn, on the other hand, spent 2009 changing and healing and growing at an incredible rate. If you came to my house today and met the chatty, imaginative little boy who lives here you would find it impossible to imagine that he was the same little boy who’s tantrums and struggles I have detailed in this blog. He has more than blossomed- he has exploded! The changes in his diet and his new therapy have made it very difficult to spot the remaining traces of his disorder. We fully expect him to enter “normal” kindergarten next year, and though that brings with it a new host of challenges we are confident in his ability to continue to thrive.

 And then there’s Mr. President… That crazy man moved The Spawn and I into his home, was patient during the job search, helped to find daycare and a nanny and even attends school meetings on a regular basis. He is more than my squeeze; he is my partner. I am starting to think of The Spawn as ours rather than mine. When you find yourself being a single mom (autism or not) it seems ridiculous to think that you will ever have a relationship again. It seems ludicrous to imagine that anyone will love your child as much as you do or that you would let them if they wanted to. Obviously Mr. President’s love for him is different than mine, but I am amazed to discover that it is perfectly complimentary. We have built a family- and it was easier than I thought it would be.

This new work schedule is putting a real kink in my online life. I’m busy and off the work both jobs to day but I thought I would share a few of the ridiculous things that have been said to me this week. Here goes…

Miss T: I feel like hot dog shit.

 Mr. P: You look like hot dog shit.

 Miss T: (dirty look)

 Mr. P: Wait…you look hot, I mean…ummmm…

 Miss T: (dirty look with pout)

 Mr. P: I am going to stop talking now.

~

Mr. P: Did you go potty?

 Spawn: No…I go later. My pee-pee is up.

 Mr. P: what? Go downstairs and go potty please.

 Spawn: My pee-pee is up! (goes downstairs)

 Miss T: I think he was trying to tell you that he has morning wood.

 Mr. P: No!…..what? wow…

~

Mr. P: You know, if we had a baby by the time I was 43 that wouldn’t be THAT old, would it?

 Miss T: If we had a baby by the time you were 43 I would have to get pregnant in the next 3 months or so…

 Mr. P: oh.  (quietly attempts to do math in head) really?!?

~

Mr. P: You smell like restaurant.

 Miss T: (quietly to herself) fuck you.

Another year of Miss Tricky has come and gone…. and I hate to be too cheerful, but it may be the best one yet. Out of the myriad reasons this year has been stupendous, there are two that really stand out.

First is The Spawn. It seems like everyday for the past two weeks I find new reasons to be amazed by him. It’s hard not to cry every time he sings. This morning he crawled into bed with me and sang his own version of Old MacDonald…

“Old bedonald has a farm,

eee, iiii, eeeee oooooooo.

The pig goes oink, oink,

Eeeee, iiiiii, ooooooooo!”

Last night he slept naked because he asked me if he could “sleep with my body”. All of this is incredible because it means he is engaged and interacting. In previous years life just seemed to bounce off him and never get in; he wasn’t a part of anything. Now he is a part of everything and is grabbing the world in big, greedy handfuls.

The other started exactly a year ago…

For my 27^th birthday a couple of small miracles happened and I got to actually make plans and go out. Some good friends of mine from back home drive the Jager bus all around the country and just happened to be in Southside (my favorite neighborhood in Pittsburgh) on my birthday that year. I secured a babysitter for the Spawn and made plans to go out for dinner with my parents and then out for some serious drinking with old friends. Dinner was lovely, my parents and I were starting to hit a stride in our newfound relationship and we stuffed ourselves on seafood and drank expensive champagne. I actually got them to stop into Jack’s for a birthday shot when they dropped me off to find my friends. (At some point I was walking up Carson Street listening to voicemails when I noticed two guys walking past me in the opposite direction. I don’t remember anything about them except that they totally checked me out. Who doesn’t want that on their birthday? )

I still don’t know which bar we were in when they introduced me to some guy they worked with- I suppose it doesn’t matter. I was drunk, it was my birthday, and I felt pretty and free and was having an amazing time when they insisted that I accept a ride home from that particular gentleman. Despite the fact that I had plans to meet up with some old Southside friends who I surely would have gotten into some debaucherous trouble with, I allowed myself to be ushered into his car.

I was far too birthday drunk to try and figure out directions and I know for a fact that his GPS took us the longest way possible but who cares? It’s my birthday and I definitely don’t know this dude from Adam! I do remember that I had a severe case of diarrhea of the mouth and that I ceaselessly scanned through his satellite radio the entire way home. So far so good right? Hot-mess, drunk birthday girl who won’t stop talking or pushing buttons in the car; it must have been dead sexy. We made it to my house at some point where I immediately marched inside, kicked off my shoes, grabbed a bottle of Cook’s Champagne (classy) from my fridge and dragged that poor man out on a barefoot walk through my neighborhood. We drank from the bottle, talked about life and he very wisely convinced me not to climb the fence and get in the pool.

I kissed him in my driveway. I kissed him because it was my birthday and I wanted to kiss someone. I kissed him because I was drunk and wanted to see if I could. I kissed him because he seemed like a good person to kiss. He was a GREAT person to kiss and when I pulled away he reached out instinctively and didn’t let me go. It was pretty fucking hot. That’s it, right? Birthday kiss with random stranger never to be heard from again…not bad for my first birthday as a truly free woman.

Except that I saw him again. The next night (where I embarrassed myself at a whole new level- another story, another time) and then that fool called me and asked to come see me again before he left town. I don’t know why but I let him. I let him come to my house where my kid and my friend’s sick dogs that I was watching were on a Sunday afternoon. The power was out and it was hot and sticky and all I had to offer him for a beverage was a Capri-Sun. He took it and we sat on my porch and talked. I was kind of a bitch to him. I was embarrassed and hostile and just threw my whole story at him and waited for him to be appalled. But if he was he didn’t show it and as he left to travel home he asked if he could call me.

So he called and we talked. Over time I discovered that he was the one checking me out on the street that night. Over time and hours of late night phone calls and visits and incessant texting I fell completely and totally in love.

This year I spent my birthday in his house with my son and my monkey-cat. (Oddly he spent it in Southside with my parents.) Life moves in strange and amazing ways if you let it, and some days I still can’t believe that this is my life. I guess if you are really lucky one year you’ll decide to steal a drunken, birthday kiss from a charming stranger who just happens to be the love of your life.

I had one of those moments last night, one that made me feel so crazy and helpless that my chest hurt a little. Nothing really happened before hand…. it was just all of a sudden there. I tend to think that when you are experiencing huge emotions your brain has a special filter that only lets you absorb a little at a time. It is how people survive the death of a loved one, it is how women handle becoming mothers and it is how couples manage to achieve true love.  Human beings are jumpy creatures who shut down when overwhelmed. If your brain suddenly let you feel the full impact of your deepest emotions you would probably spend the rest of your days eating valium flavored pudding at the funny farm; but we can handle it all in small doses. Last night my filter slipped just a little bit. Last night for a moment I got a taste of just how deeply happy I am.

 It totally rocked me. I have never been in love with a whole person before, not every part of them. My ex I was fascinated with; he was this aggravating taunt, always out of reach that drove me to chase him. At the time I thought that was the only way to stay passionate about someone. I thought that love couldn’t fill you up the way need does.

 This may shock you guys, but I am a bit of a cynic. (gasp!) I do this stupid little thing in my head when I think about Mr. President and how I feel about him. I bargain; I rationalize. I seem to be so prepared mediocrity in love that my brain starts to try to and put him in a tidy, little, predictable box. Something I can control, I suppose. All my defenses want to squish him into a little spot in there that I could lose without losing everything. But he just won’t stay in it. Every time I get him wedged into the companion “we talk for hours and he’s my favorite friend” box he kisses me again and I panic. Why do I just naturally assume that you cannot be great friends, great lovers and focused parents all with the same person? How did I learn that? Why is it that every time we match each other step for step in humor, passion and reliability I am flabbergasted?

 Last night I got this one little peek behind the curtain and saw just how good I have it. Maybe it was a perfectly planned flash to remind me to stop over thinking, maybe it was just an accident, but either way I woke up a little different today than I did yesterday. I’m glad I can’t feel all of it all the time, that much joy might kill me; but for one little moment last night I got to feel exactly how much I love him. There is nothing better than that.