Thursday, December 30, 2010


Writer and literary critic Cyril Connolly said ..."Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self."

This is for my Self.

Tuesday, December 28, 2010


There I said (typed?) it.

I just opened the syllabi for my classes for the next term.  Winter term 2011.  It hasn't even really began yet.  I still have two more weeks of "break" yet.  After pouring over the course instructions and the module readings (not to mention in one course the instructor was kind enough to make a checklist for us ... to keep us on track... this is a 5 page Word doc) I will admit I am afraid.  

I am still feeling foggy brained at times and disorganized.  Online learning is a lot harder than traditional learning from my experience.  I'm already feeling overwhelmed.  The one thing I feel good about is S's support.  She's very good at that.  
Also, I've got my resume out to 2 different facilities.  I need more steady income.  I won't let financial stress affect my health again.  I'm already getting that burning in the pit of my stomach feeling once in awhile.  I haven't felt that in almost a year.  And I'm afraid.

So I'm trying to let this fear be a motivator.  

Why does everyone think that if I am a nurse... I'm assured a job anywhere and at anytime?  Where is this fucking nursing shortage at?  If I hear one more time, "Oh you're a nurse... you can go anywhere and do anything with that degree" I just might snap.  Because right now I feel pretty worthless and penniless.

Anyway... venting.  And now my stomach's doing that burning thingy again... so this may not have been the right outlet.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

Back to the Beginning

Thank you everyone who has sent me private messages, emails, facebook chats, or even commented on this site regarding the ending of Rainbows and Pony Rides.

Some of you "got it" more than others - and that's okay.

One particular blogger asked me, "What is the blog for?"  This question strung a chord with me.  I took immediate pause and went back to the beginning.  I started this blog because I was newly divorced, newly out of the closet, and I felt very isolated in my small community.  There was a certain stigma that I felt from my peer group at that time, that of course I have blogged about (and I'm like... kind of all set with that.  I don't really feel the need to go on about it anymore...).  I understand some of it had to do with ME pushing them away too.

But then there was this other stigma that I felt from the gay and lesbian community that I don't think gets talked about very often -  or if it does, I hadn't heard about it and maybe that was part of my isolation problem.  The stigma I felt was that I was married and had these children with this man.  How could I reeeeaaalllly be a lesbian?  And so on... I even felt some of this from the woman I was involved with at the time.  In fact, after we had broken things off, she had accused me of sleeping with a man.

So, I think I started out feeling isolated and wondering if there was anyone else "out there" like me.  A lesbian, a mother, possibly even someone who may have lived a straight life for a good many years... could there be even ONE other person?  That's all I hoped for.

I was already a reader of Sasha's Card Carrying Lesbian blog.  I admired her candor and honesty.  She blogs about her escapades.  She blogs about being "too pretty to be gay."  And when I read some of her posts about her bipolar disorder, I immediately felt connected to her.  However, she wasn't a mother.  She was never married or divorced.

So for many reasons, RPR began.  Mostly, I was just seeking a community.

And now, I need to embrace what I have found.  I have found what I was looking for.  There are so many of us who did get married, have children, and then "later in life" (*cough*... I'm only 31!) come out.  I started reading blogs of other women some like me and some not, some femmes, some butches, some undefined.  Some of the blogs make me laugh, some make me cry.  Some of the women were born men.  Some of the women pretend to be men.  Some of the women are straight.

But I feel accepted when I read these blogs.  And, when I write my own blog posts, I worry less and less each time about being accepted... because... I think through these last 8 months I've grown to accept myself.

I have started to blog more about *me* recently (not so much about my relationships or my kids or my job...).  Some of it has really left me feeling quite vulnerable and raw.  But I don't want to be afraid of doing it more.  Because I think that what I started this blog out to accomplish has sort of been conquered and now it's time to move in a new direction.

The tag line under the title of this blog used to read "blah blah blah blah .... of a single lesbian mother." Or something like that.  Well, I'm not single any longer (haven't really felt that way in a while now).   I have since changed it.  I am not sure if anyone ever noticed.  Today I asked S if she would ever want to be a "guest blogger" or a "co-blogger" on this site.  I told her she could even write about whatever she wanted... not just the things I tell her to.  (It's okay... laugh.)

I think it might be fun.  To get her perspective on this whole parenting thing... or she could just write about how crazy I am about the dishwasher getting loaded "properly."  Who knows.  It may suck.  But, I mostly think it's going to be great.

Saturday, December 25, 2010

No More Pony Rides

My apologies.  I sort of dropped off there didn't I?  The last week of my school term proved to be rather stressful.  But, it was all worth it.  A's again.  And I actually kind of enjoyed my last assignment (a paper) in one of my classes.  I thought I would get straight away to blogging again... but... well... my house, kids, and S all needed some attention.  Plus, I had the opportunity to travel out of state to meet S's parents (The Duo) and spend a little time with my BFF Jess.  I can blog about all that later, I s'pose.

I've felt very pensive lately.  Had quite a few talks with S about this.  And many times she's encouraged me to blog, to write.

She knows how important writing is to me.  She knows that without writing in my life I would not be able to sleep well.  Writing is like the same as breathing air.  I don't even think about it.  I just do.  Well... I do think about it.  And that's where my problem has been the last month.

People Clutter.  People Clutter is hiding my work.  I'll try to explain:

I've had some opportunities where I've felt some boundaries were blurred in personal relationships - friendships - and I've done enough work and value my relationships enough to want to keep these boundaries clear.  My first instinct, of course is to write.  Like many would want to take a deep breath, I want to go to my keyboard and write.  Get it out.  Purge it... and then it sorts itself out.

But, I feel so choked up here on this blog.  I started this blog with the intent to be able to write as if no one were reading my words; that way I would be able to write as honestly and as uncensored as possible.  In order to do this I had initially decided to be as anonymous as possible.  But the ex girlfriend found out about it... then a schoolmate... and of course a couple BFFs... and I'm not sure how I told my sister, but she reads... and then of course my partner S reads....then through those wonderful trackers out there I found an entire slew of people reading that don't know that I know they are reading.  Oh and that guy from where I used to work...

I digress...

After awhile anonymity didn't really seem that important to me.  I felt like I was still able to write as if no one were reading (i.e. uncensored), and I still felt like I was breathing.

I don't know when I stopped breathing.

But I think all of these people are really just clutter that is choking the air out of me.  Maybe I'm just being a little dramatic.

Don't ask S her opinion about my melodrama.

Of course I was discussing this with my friend (or maybe a few friends, shhhhh!)... and I have decided I have a few options here.  I can stop blogging here, on Rainbows and Pony Rides.  I can move to another site (I've been wanting to go to WordPress anyway) and take caution to use extreme anonymity... with exception to S.  I feel completely comfortable with her reading my writing and often I need her to read something before I hit "publish" anyway.  Most of you won't get the forwarding address.

I can keep this blog for just fucking around and use an "old school journal" with a fancy pen (of course) for when I need to really breath.... I mean write.  I don't know how much I like this idea.  Part of the process for me is the keyboard.  Is that stupid?  Part of the process for me is actually having it in print.  Part of the process is having OTHER people read my story and take something from it.  I need that.  So I like this idea least.  I think. 

I think the last option I have is to continue, as I am... but just be brave.  And when I start to feel the People Clutter choke the air out of me... that's when I need to push myself through it... and just come up for air.

What do you all think?  Anyone... any ideas?

Because I'd really like to get to writing about some shit that's gone down this month.

Monday, December 6, 2010

Mothering Motherless (Now and Then)

She came to me, via text of course, about depression... asking if I have it, if I take medication, because... she read somewhere that it can be genetic and well... she thinks she's depressed.  Her exact words, "I have been kinda waiting to be happy for like two years now."

She told me she told her dad and he bought her hot chocolate, and then told her it was because she was a girl and a teen.  She said, "I feel like he doesn't take it seriously."

OMFG.  Is he retarded?

I told her it was serious and how she was feeling is real.  I told her how brave she is and how proud I am of her. It opened up this incredible dialogue between us where I was able to validate her feelings and create a safe place (via text of course) for her to come to about some tough feelings.

Then on Thanksgiving I invited her to our dinner.  She refused.

After dinner, though the other kidlets were on the phone and I couldn't understand who they could be talking to for so long, so I got on the extension and it was Motherless.  I invited her over, "Hey do you want to come over for pumpkin pie?  We are playing cards too."  She said fine.

She was there within 15 minutes.

All of the kids showed her around the house, they all have new rooms (their own rooms).  S and I have the master bedroom.  She wanted to see that.  She wanted to see The Baby's room.  She said it was cute.  She didn't make fun of anything like she usually does.

After cards and pie, S and I were sitting in the living room with a couple of the kidlets watching TV cuddling under a blanket, and we invited her in to watch with us (which she did for a short while).  We started talking about her favorite movie.... drum roll.... Harold and Maude.  OMFG.  It only happens to be one of S's favorite movies, possibly THE favorite one.  I don't know.  Anyway, we all giggled and shared our favorite scenes.

Then, she gets up and says, "Well I'm leaving, bye" and then leaves.  WTF? 

S tells me she is just a teenager.

It's like my heart has a revolving door and she just spins through it.  But that's not really accurate either.  Because she is ALWAYS in my heart.  Cemented there. 

She was very independent as a baby and toddler.  As a baby she never really had "needs"... I swear.  I mean, of course she fussed a little when I needed to change her diaper or feed her, but while I was doing that she smiled and giggled the whole time. 

She entertained herself mostly.  She would unload my laundry baskets full of laundry.  Over and over again.  She would sit in a kitchen sink full of water and bubbles and play with plastic cups.  She would take everything out of my cupboards and climb in.  When her dad would fix things around the house, she would toddle after him and just sit and watch.  Just watch intently.  She got a doll for Christmas when she was 2 and she became a little momma.  And I would sit and watch.  Intently.  She was so loving and caring.

Motherless sucked her thumb.  She was a self soother.  I was told to "break her of that bad habit."  I saw it differently though and I let her learn to sooth herself.  I did not try to "take her thumb away from her" and she did it on her own when she was ready.  At an age I will not disclose here... just in case she ever reads this... I will say, I sucked MY thumb longer than she did.

At bedtimes I would want to read her a story, but I could never do that.  She would take the book away from me and read ME the story.  Some times the words were jibber jabber of 3 year olds and some times the words were the actual text of the book she had memorized.  The song "Jesus Loves Me" still makes me think of those nights and well... I cry.

All of my photos, my family memories of those times, are left behind with my ex with the promise of, "We'll split the photos between us."  It's been a year.  I don't know if it will ever happen.  And the new memories I have with my oldest daughter, my daughter who made me a Mother, are only the saved texts on my iPhone.  And maybe some emails.  Oh and the Facebook messages.

Today, as I reflect on my little girl, then and now, I am very sad. 

Does she know I love her?
Does she know I miss her so much I cannot breath at times?
Does she know how incomplete Thanksgiving was without her?
Does she know how lonely Christmas morning is going to feel when her stocking stays full and her presents remain unopened?
Does she know I am sorry?

I am sorry.