Another weekend of brain fucking. Friday morning was my son's moving up ceremony from pre-k3 to pre-4. Scoff if you want to, but it's so cute. They marched in to "It's a small world" wearing their paper graduation hats and scream/sang a bunch of songs with all of their hearts and souls. In the short history of my motherhood, it took one of the top slots. So cute and so proud was my little man up there singing and dancing with his buddies. His Dad showed- on time! He took public transportation from Rockland county NY, and made it to Staten Island for the 9:30 start. Thank God. I wasn't in the mood for a heart break that morning.
We went back to my (my parent's) house after the ceremony to play in the yard for awhile, and then loaded into the car to go to the RainForest Cafe for a celebratory lunch. My sister also joined us with her two kids, as well as my parents. It was great. The restaurant is pure magic to little ones. Everything looks so real and mysterious to them. John ran next door and bought each of the kids a helium balloon just to up the ante on the joy level. After lunch, my parents let each of the kids pick out a souvenir from the gift shop. There was nothing but happiness and overindulgence going on, and we were all enjoying it. It was almost as if we were all pushing the limit to see just how happy we could make those kids in just a few hours time. I loved it. I took it all in. I was tempted to take out my camera, or flip video a few times to capture it all, but I chose instead to actually be in the moment, and live it with them. Good stuff.
Lunch brought us into late afternoon/ early evening. The following day was a graduation party for John's niece and nephew up in Rockland, so we decided the easiest thing to do was to go straight up to John (Noreen's) house from there so we'd be up there nice and early. Plus, John offered to cook some of the food and said I'd help. The boys went to bed with relative ease after such an exciting and eventful day. John began the prep work on the 6 trays of chicken Marsala that was his contribution. I poured myself a big round glass of red wine and sat across from him and watched. I stirred the mushrooms and onions occasionally and pointed out that he was using entirely the wrong knife for butchering the chicken, but that was pretty much the extent of my "help". Fuck'm. Let him break a little sweat now and then.
We got to the party earlier than most so that we could get the food in the oven and help set up.
Literally minutes after John's brothers and nephews arrived, they were picking teams for whiffle ball, and jam can (if you haven't heard of it yet, ya will. it's glorified frisbee). John was picked right away for whiffle ball.... and that's when I dropped the bomb---- "uh, John, you know that I come up here with the boys on the weekends because it's supposed to be YOUR visit with them, right?" and. I. Loved. Every. Second of it. You kind of need to know more of the background to know the severity of the words I just laid down on him. His family produces about 80% boys.. They dominate the bbq's and family gatherings. Whiffle ball is not something to pass the time to them. It's real deal competition. John, and his brother that is one year older than him (0f the 4 boys in their immediate family (4 boys, 2 girls)) are the most competitive and ridiculous of them all.
I let him sweat from the sidelines for a little bit and then told him I'd take over the boys for a bit so he could play... this is where I got all the teen/ preteen girls to take my boys on a walk and spoil them with attention so I could continue to enjoy the bbq.
Blahlblahblah. Fun bbq. I made John be primarily responsible for the boys while I enjoyed spending time with my sister in laws and neices. It's strange to me how comfortable I still feel with the family. It's been about a year and a half since I left, but when I sit with my girls, it's gossip as usual, and just plain fun. It's encouraging to hear them talk to me about wtf is going on with John, and how am I holding up with the boys on my own, and what is he thinking? yadda yadda. It's reassuring to hear that his family has the same thoughts and concerns about his mental health that I do.
So, Sunday roles around. He asks me if I can drop him off at the restaurant so that me and the boys can see where he's working/ taking over. So I do.
It's a dive. The kinda bar I would looooove to spend every weekend in back in the day. He'll turn it around and make it great. I know he will because that's what he's good at. Making bars and restaurants successful. Unfortunately, during the process of making it great, he will beg borrow and steal from Peter to pay Paul for the work it's gonna take to do so. He will also dip into what is supposed to be mine and the boy's monthly stipend. Soooooo, we'll see. Until then, let the mind fucking continue while I do my kids third load of laundry of the day and wrestle them down to put on sunblock and restrain them while they get vaccines and make them eat their fruits and veges.
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