Boy Growing Up

This is a really long entry, sorry!!!

Aaaah, watching your child grow a wee bit older, this is the hardest part of parenting. Anthony turned a whopping seven years old this last week, and I watched him lose a bit of that innocence of his youth. As a parent, you know it's coming, but it's still hard to see. Especially the way this one came.

I can't say that I am thankful for my child having a brain disorder, but it has kept him rather locked in a state of perpetual toddlerhood, for better and worse. He delights in the simplest things, is so very loving and gentle, and often times the heavy issues of the world sort of slide over him. I love the world he shares with me, it is a bright and beautiful one, full of possibility and joy.

As most know, my ex has really pulled away from his parental role for...well, sheesh, I guess it's always been that way, just moreso over the last two years. Between him not being able to come to terms with our son's disability, and his new life with his fiance, well, he's all but completely removed himself from kiddo's world. Those in my "camp" would always shake their heads and cluck their tongues. "Eventually Anthony will pick up on it and hold it against him". But I didn't want kiddo to, I wanted him to have a relationship with his father. When I saw him delighted to go to Daddy's, I was relieved and encouraged it. Every time I felt frustration that my ex didn't want to extend visitation, I would swallow it and hide it from kiddo. I didn't lie, but I would downplay it. So I'd still see him smile at the mention of Daddy's house, write little books in his excitement, and figured all was well. After all, with Anthony's condition, would he ever really pick up on the gravity of it all? Would he actually be able to put together that there was a skew in the visitation?

*sigh*

I should've seen the warning sign when a week or so ago, Rick had the wild hair to want to keep kiddo an extra day on his visit. I've always offered him that flexibility, God knows I just want him to have more involvement. But apparently kiddo refused, and asked to be taken home. When Rick kept asking why, he'd first say he wanted to play with Smoosh, but then stated he missed me. Needless to say, this didn't really sit well, and Rick showed a bit of lashing out to kiddo, which I quickly reminded him wasn't the proper method. Ah, well, what do I know, right? I chalked the whole incident up to the fact that either kiddo was not comfortable with Rick's fiance, or he was simply clinging to the routine of spending the one night at Daddy's. When it comes to autism, never underestimate the importance of their understanding of routine. I brushed off the incident...

Leading up to his actual birthday, kiddo was pretty excited. He knew there would be a party on Saturday. He knew Mommy was sending cupcakes with him to school on Thursday (his actual bday). But best of all, he knew he'd get to see his daddy for a special time on Thursday evening, just for his birthday. He mentioned it several times, and I thought all would be well. Rick had said he would retrieve kiddo at my place after the bus dropped him off, and return him the next morning. I enjoyed a wonderful visit with Jesse for a few days (swooon), then in the evening set to work baking 3 dozen low-sugar vanilla cupcakes with whipped frosting and sprinkles. I had to go to the unemployment office that morning, so my neighbor had to send him off with the towering stack of tupperware. After I returned home I set about straightening up the house, and my phone rang. My ex of course didn't even know what time the bus arrived, and was asking to talk to kiddo to wish him a Happy Birthday. I asked why he wasn't just waiting to tell him in person in a few hours, when he nonchalantly told me he decided he wouldn't be picking kiddo up. Apparently he hadn't had time to get kiddo's present yet. I told him the present really didn't matter, kiddo just wanted to see him. Then he mentioned not even having the car. That jerk had already planned on not bothering to actually see his own son for his birthday, and waited til the last fucking second to tell me. I wanted to cry, just thinking of yet again having to disappoint kiddo with the "daddy's not coming" message...I had really hoped Rick would've been making that night special for him. I was completely broke from paying for the party, I hadn't even thought to get a special dinner together. I had barely passing cupboards, and little energy after cake baking most of the day.

I went and met kiddo's bus, and he bounced off, swinging the bag of empty, frosting smeared tupperware. I only wish I had witnessed the horde of first graders descending upon those containers like a pack of frenzied pirannhas. He beamed that toothy grin up at me, a telltale sprinkle still stuck to the side of his mouth.

"Is daddy here?" this is the sound of my heart breaking a little bit.

I bent down and took the bag off his shoulder. "Well, kiddo, Daddy can't make it today. But that's ok, we'll have a nice night together"

I saw those blue eyes cloud a bit. The smile faded a bit. "Oh". But...that was it. No request for an explaination, no tears...no...anything. I think...well, I think that may have been the moment. That moment when it clicked in his now slightly more age-wisened little brain that Daddy wasn't exactly...reliable as a daddy. I was hoping I was reading too much into the moment, and quickly changed tactics.

"Hey, birthday boy, let's go have a super birthday dinner!" I can live off of top ramen, I don't care, my kid will have an awesome goddamn birthday. "Anywhere you want out here. You name it, it's dinner. You are the boss!"

He beamed at me, the moment passed, and he vehemently demanded Subway. I trotted him over, let him order whatever he wanted plus chocolate milk and cheetos, and we skipped back home, swinging the bags in between our tightly clenched hands. My world was better.

His dad called right when we entered the apartment, and I handed the phone to kiddo so he could at least hear a birthday wish. I'd never seen him look more emotionless, he just quietly thanked his dad for the wish and said little else. Apparently Rick gave up trying to coax out a conversation, and had kiddo hand the phone back. As he angrily miffed about his child not wanting to talk to him, I made up excuses about him being hungry and staring at his dinner. I asked if he'd at least stop by the next day, present or no. He said he would, and then had to actually ask me what his child wanted for his birthday. I had to inform him of kiddo's Spiderman obsession, and the fact that he was receiving a DS. I couldn't help feeling anger and contempt that I had to actually tell him what his kid was into. Can you really know so little about your own offspring?

Of course, he never actually showed or even called the next day, and kiddo never asked after him. The cake was frosted with care, love, and a completely spastic lack of precision, my usual method. Mounds of fruit was cut up into 7-year-old sized chunks. The next morning Grandpa showed up and we had a nice breakfast of fluffy pancakes and sausage, kiddo gleefully discovered his very own DS, and we carted all of my spider-themed supplies off to the park.

More children showed than I thought, a little over 15 in all, but I had thought ahead and gotten supplies for 20. I find it a personal bit of heaven when I stand there in a playground, amidst delighted squeals of unadulterated pleasure and sunshine. Some of my favourite children from his classes were there. I will note it is a bit scary how trusting some parents are, btw. Of the two that were left entirely in my custody, only one of them had I ever actually interacted with the parents. I chalk up the second to the fact that the little girl herself knew me, and was quite comfortable with me, and probably told her parents that. She's a sweet little blond, and I thought it adorable that she kept wandering over to my side.

My favourite little princess, Anika, blessed us with her presence. I was glad my folks could finally meet the little angel I had babbled about before. Her joyous grin is brilliant, and I love every single giant leg-hug she frequently bestows at my knees. It kills me to know that her diagnosis still isn't solidified, especially when I've made so many strides with Anthony's. Her condition is much more severe, which perhaps makes her delightful attitude all the more heart wrenchingly sweet. A few of the other SPE kids were there, too, which always makes me happy. After seeing how some of them are scared to do parties, I'm glad they at least came out for this one. Seeing the gen class kids scampering around with the others, as well as my other friends' children in the mix of all of them, it just reminded me how at this age, it really doesn't matter to those kids. Anthony's bestest friend, Reece, is a "normal" child in the gen class, who apparently can be a bit of a trouble maker. But he dotes on kiddo, and seeing his gentle nature towards my son and the others is very precious. Watching all of them play together...well, the sun warmed my skin, but that moment warmed my heart more than I can possibly describe. It was predicted to rain most of that day, but magically the three hour window of the party was sunny and perfect, like the very clouds knew to part and give us this special moment.

In my exhaustion at the end of the night, I did little through the house, save packing the leftovers into the fridge. The next day, my ex finally made his appearance. Anthony seemed awkward around him, and actually kept scooting closer and closer to me on the couch. Rick was put out, and I did recommend again that he seek an appointment with Anthony's therapist. I know he won't, but hey, I have to throw it out there. He left in a huff. I won't dwell on the rest of how awkward the visit was, with him once again pretending to be my "friend", and lamenting that I am the cause of the unrest in our relationship by not inviting him to the party. Let's just go with...wtf?!

That night, I tucked kiddo in after reading some new books. He looked at me with those big, amazing eyes and said "I love you, mommy. Thank you a lot for the awesome party. You did a bunch of good things for me" (yes, I realize quoting my child verbatum makes for an awkward read, sorry). My beautiful, wonderful, appreciative baby boy is growing up. I hugged him fiercely and gave him way more kisses than his rosey little cheeks could handle, just to hear that giggle.

After I left his room, I set about the monumental task of freeing the new toys from their cardboard, inserting batteries, etc. I made a mental list of the toys that should probably be thrown out to make room for the new ones, and set aside a stack of the learning aids I know he has finally surpassed in Speech Therapy. I cut up the remaining fruit to be enjoyed over the next few packed lunches. I checked on the supply of fresh yogurt, and noted that I needed to buy more of the individual milk boxes.

This is the life of a mother, and I wouldn't trade any second of it for anything. I love and cherish every moment of being a mom, and I know that the innocence of this time is precious and fleeting. My ex is missing these wonderful moments, and my son stopped caring about that absence. I can want for everything to give my child the moon and stars. But the most important thing I can give him is my love, and to be a damn good mother to him. Tonight, I feel like I am doing a great job at both.

Happy Birthday, Baby Boy. Mama loves you more than anything.

On The Quit

So, as previously mentioned, I decided to quit smoking. Huh, kinda scary that I've been doing it for 15 years! There were two large factors in coming to this conclusion (this time).

1) They just hiked up the price again, so now they are $8 a pack. I smoke a little more than a pack a day, so we're looking at a bit over $300 a month. Spent on slowly killing myself. As I thought about the larger number, I realized there is NOTHING, save rent and feeding both of us, that I would so willingly dump $300 each month on. In fact, I don't even think I spend that much on food. But there it is, $300 getting flushed down the toilet on something that is doing terrible things to my body. And teaching my son an awful habit. Pretty damn absurd when you look at it, no?

2) OK, so I'm not quitting for the boy, but his presence did make something click. Obviously, Jesse doesn't smoke (ya know, purity of body and all that monk stuff). Now, he was emphatic that he really didn't care if I did, but being considerate, it bothered me. So when he was visiting, every time I smoked I'd stand away from him, waving my cigarette fumes in the other direction, etc. Much like I do with kiddo (for those of you who don't realize, I never EVER smoke in my home because of my son, and generally keep it as far away from him as possible). And because there may or may not have been kissing involved, I was pretty much constantly shoveling breath mints into my face so as not to dragon-breath the poor man. When he left, it dawned on me that I had a disgusting habit. I mean, I knew it was gross, but to be sitting there feeling so much shame in this horrible addiction that I am expending a ton of energy to keep it away from someone...well, it really sunk in.

In the past few months, I have transformed a lot of aspects of myself that I didn't like. Why the hell hadn't I changed this? I've overcome monumental self-improvements regarding things I didn't like about myself...shouldn't this be on that list?

So, Saturday, I walked into my usual smoke shop and asked for my usual 2 packs (I prefer to buy every other day, for some reason it makes me feel better about it). As I swiped my card and saw I was signing away $16, both reasons 1 and 2 smacked me in the head. I told myself right then "These are the last ones. We're fucking done".

Monday morning I puffed through the last one, and dug out my box of patches. Yea, I know, I've tried this before. I feel really good about this one tho.

• Cost is a big factor now. More than ever, I have to trim this budget. $300...just no fucking way. I believe that even if I come close to failing, the sticker shock will prevent me from actually buying another pack.
• I'm not quitting with someone this time, it's allllll me. Before in my attempts, it was always me and Scott (and once with my ex husband). Each time...we'd both topple simultaneously. But I'm the only one that can be let down. And at this stage in my life, I am not about to let myself down ever again.
• I've proven the strength of my own amazing willpower recently. I lost 20 lbs, and go to the gym almost every day. I've done this over a period of months, and feel pretty amazing about that.
• This was my one "bad" thing. I mean, I don't really drink all that often, and when I do it's not to excess by any means. I've never done a drug in my life, and I am pretty damn happy keeping it that way (I like my brain just the way it is, I have never had a need to chemically or "herbally" alter it, thank you very damn much. And we all know about marijuana). But as all these other things prove, I don't need a vice. I'm great on my own, why hang onto this one?
• I finally got my son involved. I've told him lately that smoking is bad and awful, and it's not a good thing at ALL that mommy does it. So when I told him I was quitting, it actually meant something to him. He seemed very happy, and I told him that if he ever thought mommy was about to pick up a cigarette, to tell me not to. My son guilting me is a powerful thing! Two days ago he thought I was about to pick up a cigarette (I used to keep them on the TV cabinet, and I was over by there fiddling with something else), and he ran up, grabbed my hand, and cried "Mommy!! Don't Smoke!!". I'm tellin' ya, if that doesn't make you stop dead in your tracks, you don't have a soul.

So...there we go. The last cigarette was smoked on Monday morning. Jesse had given me a great pointer on it (he knows a thing or two about quitting). He told me to keep the empty, and write the date and time of my last one on it. Every time I felt the urge, I would look at it and realize how long I'd come without one. I don't think he realized how much of an impact this would make, mainly because he doesn't quite know yet how incredibly stubborn I am. The few times I was feeling weak and needed to stare at the pack, the stubborn side kicked in, because I all out refused to have to change that damn date. I adamantly got through the craving, because I am too stubborn to cross something out that I put down with conviction.

If you are in my kitchen, look over and see on the counter a somewhat torn empty pack of cigarettes, with "5/3/10 11AM" written in pink sharpee across the front. And if that's scratched out and a different date is written on there, feel free to kick my ass. But I don't think you will, because I refuse to let myself down this time. I've come too damn far to stop now!!

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes...are in front of me!!

So, today Dad and I continued on our mission of apartment shopping. A while back, when I determined I was going to return to school (come hell or high water!), and of course, got my life obliterated by my exboyfriend...we had concocted a grand scheme. This scheme, by the way, is further proof of the amazing selflessness of the wonderful man who raised me. He has decided that he will move up to the north end, where I am currently settled, specifically to help me out. We're attempting to find 2 units in a given complex; a two bedroom for myself and kiddo, and a one bedroom for Pappa. Should I work or take classes in the evening, he would step in to help watch over my son, leaving me the freedom to take care of the business at hand. We'd also share a vehicle, allowing me a bit more mobility in these pursuits, not to mention just generally make life easier. This arrangement is almost entirely one sided, as about all I can offer him in return is...well, I'll cook for him, of course. Sheesh, that man lives on pot pies, preparing a nightly meal for him is downright necessary if his sodium intake is to decrease enough to see his 60th birthday.

So we've been poking around a few different places, as my lease ends in June, and he's already on a month to month. Right now, I'm estimating my income at a minimal level, since I am still looking at returning just as an associate at Le Shack. He knows anywhere we move in, he'll be saving money, since he's getting gouged for in city prices. I know I am overpaying for where I am right now, too, so I will also see a savings. And, well, returning to school and working a crap job means I need to start looking at corners to cut.

So, we browsed. The first place we checked out was ok. He loved it, but he's also pretty dang easy to please. It had good amenities, a good location, and a nice neighborhood. Not only is the rent about $100 cheaper, but they also pay water/sewer, so I'd in total be saving almost $200 every month. Sounds great, right? *sigh* the two bedroom unit would be smaller than what I have now, and the kitchen was abysmal. I mean...ick. Dimly lit, super dark tacky cupboards, not much counter space. It had a godawful bathroom, too. I guess it dawned on me that although I am over paying, and I may not love my fellow tenants, Park Edmonds really isn't that bad a place. My apartment is pretty nice, if a bit overpriced.

Oh, yea, sidenote...I quit smoking. Again, yea yea, but I'm pretty sure this one is going to stick. My broke ass cannot afford $8 a pack. Screw you, Olympia, but I guess thank you for giving me one final reason to knock this crap off. There's another reason that got me there, and he's quite handsome...but I digress!

Hmmm...so we continued shopping today, and I hit a bit of an internal struggle. We looked at about 6 different places in total. The last two were brilliant. Gorgeous grounds, tons of amenities, and the apartments were spacious, gorgeous, (awesome kitchen!), well lit...pretty damn perfect. But...well, here's the deal...because of all this awesomeness, I wouldn't be really saving any money. Like, maybe $40 in rent, total? Dad just kind of looked at me, and we decided to discuss more heavily at my pad.

"you have some pretty major decisions to make, then. This whole effort was to get you a better living situation. I know you liked those last two, but you wouldn't be cutting the costs you need to."

Sigh...Daddy knows best. Goddamn him and his perfectly reasonable brain.

Basically, here's the list of options I have:

1) Work part time, go to school full time, live in semi-crappy apartment. This will require downsizing quite a bit of the life I've grown accustomed to here. But I'd still have a small space to paint, and kiddo would have his own space. I'd have to really flex creativity to make the small space work, and the ugliness. But damn, I'm looking at possibly the next 4-5 years in this place. Wouldn't the cramped quarters and ugliness make me go a little batshit?

2) Work Full time, go to school part time, live in decent apartment. This pushes the whole "sharona school plan" out further, and causes me to do some serious financial dancing. I'd have the space I have now, and prettiness. But...well, with finances being forced to their max, who knows if I could afford art supplies, let alone the living expenses. And push out my school plan? Ugh, don't want to!! I really, really like the plan I made!!!

3) Go on complete assistance, go to school as much as assistance allows, live in smallest apartment possible, store everything I love at my grandparents house, give up painting entirely for a few years. Again. Fuck, that's a horrid option. I don't want to do this, and the thought of ripping my own art away from me makes me feel dead inside.

*sigh*

I think the reality of what option 1, really the true option for me, means. I don't mind downsizing my stuffness. I mean, it's just crap. And I've lived in tackier places, and always enjoyed the creative challenge of making those living spaces work for me. As far as creative space goes, well, I've had less to work with, again, just means rising to the challenge if I want it so dang bad.

I'm really I guess hitting the reality of what changes I really am about to undertake. I have to let go of this old world I thought was mine. Because it isn't, this isn't me anymore. I have this amazing future I am working towards, and sacrifices will need to be made to meet those ends. I am willing to give up a lot it, as long means still providing an awesome life for my son, and meeting that amazing goal I've set for myself. I set out to do this on my own, and goddamnit, I'm going to. I knew that doing this meant giving up a lot. So I guess this is step one, compromise my previous notions of a "standard" of residence. I know steps two thru godknows will probably include some major financial cutbacks, but I've already begun those, so it's ok.

Hmmm...

There's another part of this reality setting in for me. Or rather, unsettling me.

So...there's um...a boy. I'm actually still editing another entry about said boy, painstakingly rewriting it to ensure I capture how just downright amazing he is. Because he is just...wow. Awesome. And he thinks I am awesome. Which is awesome. And we as a "we" is even more awesome. There's a whole lotta awesome there.

And what I am about to say I don't think is the old Sharona doubting herself again...but maybe it is, I don't know. *sigh*

It's just, well, with all I am going to be giving up to make this work...well...what the hell am I going to be able to offer Mr. Awesome? I mean, yea, there's my...uh...awesomeness. And of course there's the unflappable loyalty and all the affection I can muster (which, if you know me, is a lot). Any guy who'd be willing to stick by me and cheer lead while I do what I need to do is definitely worthy of all the loving goodness I know I have the ability to provide. Tenfold.

But, well...I'm going to be living in a dinky little place for a few years. Penny pinching to pay my tuition will mean some pretty skimpy cupboards. Thank god I know how to make so many things from scratch! But, well, how much homemade yogurt would one man possibly want to eat? Today I had to hang-dry all of my laundry because I could only afford to throw Anthony's load in the dryer. Jess is on a pretty solid path of his own, which is why I find him so amazing and wonderful. But does he really need to sit by and watch me struggle my way through mine? Yes, it'll be all great and amazing when this is all accomplished, but that'll be years from now. This guy is pretty great right now...maybe he deserves a heck of a lot more than having to wait for me to get through all this, only watching from the sidelines. I'm not saying I don't deserve an amazing guy like this, because hey, I'm pretty cool! But...on the same note, acknowledging how wonderful he is also means acknowledging that I may not really be able to provide him with what he deserves now. I mean, sure, he loved the tapestry I made him. But chances are, that'll probably be the first of many handmade gifts, because I can't afford to buy anything. How many times is he going to tolerate hearing "I can't afford to make it up to see you", before he gets tired of being the one that has to travel?

Gah..I'm thinking too far ahead. I'm really good at overthinking things, and I did promise myself I wouldn't be doing this, especially not with stuff involving him. I have some HUGE changes in front of me. Time will tell if he can cope with riding them out. And if not, well, I did sorta embark on this journey under the impression I'd be alone for it.

So there's um...a boy...

Funny how the universe decided to be rather Impetuous as of late. I've spent the last few months in full blown "overhaul life" mode, and have discovered I have an amazing capacity to...well, do stuff. I mean, wow, the checklist of crap I can accomplish all on my own is...well, see here:

Get ex-husband off my back in court - check!

Get Anthony's diagnosis resolved - check!

Rewrite IEP, get correct treatment for him, create longterm ed plan - check!

Resolve the eating disorder - check! (okay, yea, work in progress, but there's been a lot of progress)

Lose weight the RIGHT way - check!

Get schooling figured out - check!

Get citizenship stuff nailed out - check! (I are a canuck! wheee!)

Paint like a goddamn mofo and create a ton of new things - check!

Get SELF to a happy place - check!

I bolded that one, just because it was a friggin huge deal. After intense amounts of therapy and self-exploration, I really feel like I've emerged from the darkness. I feel more whole than I ever have before, and completely on my own. I think the major turning point was there at the beginning of March. I felt...just happy, ya know? Content with my world, content with who I have discovered that I am. When I passed our anniversary on 3/15, instead of flipping out and becoming all sentimental and weepy, I saw it as sort of a blip. I breathed a sigh of relief that day, knowing I was not spending another minute wasting my life with someone who wasn't worth wasting it on.

I won't prattle on and on about the enlightenment, because I think anyone reading this blog over the last few months has seen it, and my friends that surround me apparently have as well. I've become pretty damn happy just being me. I actually really like the solo life I've carved out for kiddo and I.

Of course that's when the universe decided to say "Ok, folks, she gets it! Now let's throw her something new"

In my path of self-exploration and pursuit of self induced happiness, I discovered I really wanted to be more social. I also wanted to know what the whole "dating" thing was actually like, but in a non-threatening manner. Ya know, the whole boy-picks-up-girl, girl-wears-pretty-dress, boy-drives-them-to-restaurant-and-buys-meal, boy-and-girl-make-small-talk...blah blah blah. A date! I didn't really ever experience those, I was curious. So I put up a profile on a social site. I made sure to pretty much hammer in every possible way that I was just seeking friends. I didn't even check off the "short-term-dating" option (wtf is that, anyways?). I think I said about 8 different times in my profile that I only sought new friends. it's still amusing how many people completely fucking ignored those bells and whistles, tho! ugh. Ah well, I did manage to go on a few "dates", and actually, pretty much all of them were lovely. They were exactly what I had hoped to accomplish in my little experiment: a perfectly acceptable example of a "date", but without feelings of intimacy, and resulting in a few new friendships.

Anyways...I was "matched" up with this guy who had a really great profile, but lives in BC. At first I was about to completely dismiss him. I mean, I was looking for social partners here in front of me, not more long distance penpals (I have enough of those from OB). But he sent me a nice, disarmingly quaint message, so I decided I'd add one more person to the "sharona's friends spread across the globe" list. I mean, it's not like having another person to chitchat with was a bad thing, right?

Ahhhh, universe, you delightfully puckish thing...

We chatted a lot. A LOT. Like...every night, for a couple hours. It seemed such an innocent thing, really. As I think we were both chalking this up to a friendship that would doubtfully result in even meeting, we were pretty honest with eachother. It's strange, when you don't think you will ever stand in front of someone, you can become just intensely open with who you are as a person, as there's no fear of judgement. Here's who I am, and if you don't like it, screw you, it's not like I'll ever see you, right? Plus, as I am at this place in my life where I feel like I really, really know myself and am growing at peace with that, I felt it...well, almost necessary to have someone know me for ME. He's in a similar place, mentally, so he was doing the same thing.

Yea...it's the monk guy. Mr. "unique beauty".

As our chatting progressed, I think I went slowly from "hey, what a neat-o person!"...

to "wow, this guy is epicly awesome, I am so glad I get to know him"...

to "huh, ya know, this guy pretty much sums up exactly the type of person I want to find. And he sees me exactly the way I want someone I'm dating to see me"...

to "in fact, if he lived closer, I would probably want to date him"...

....

.......

Canada is only 2 fucking hours away. I really don't even know why he and I saw it as this crazy barrier. I think maybe we created a false barrier there, because we were focused on just enjoying building an honest and open friendship, and enjoyed the mutual lack of expectation. Even when he finally said "Hey, I think I'm going to hop on a bus and come see you", I think we were still firmly in the "No Expectation" zone. It was clear we were really starting to like eachother, but we were both heavily guarded about it. I mean, who's to say we weren't creating some weird fantasy out of what we were getting to know about the other person? Reality rarely ever meets up with the ideal created in a purely online connection (yes, we'd spoken on the phone a few times, too). I was really just intensely pleased with what we had managed to build, tho. I found myself delighting in simply just knowing him. Just having someone like him in my life, in a minimal capacity, well, I was grateful for it. He's an amazing, inspiring individual. In the peaceful gratitude I found in simply just knowing someone like him, I created a piece of art celebrating that. It was a very ornately embroidered tapestry, and was sort of an homage to who I felt he was, or at least, what he represented to me. The frame of it was Jorgumandr, the Norse serpent (the one biting it's own tale). He has a thing for Norse mythology, and actually has this snake tattooed on his arm. I liked the representation of balance, it was very suited to who he is as a person. Inside was the tree of life, Ygdrassil (yes, I did some serious reading up on Norse Mythos...for a boy. God help me.) in quite painstaking detail. The leaves on the damn thing, since I stitched them individually, took four days. On either side of the tree were representations of some of his own beautiful tattoo work, with the words "Harmony" & "Balance". I realized as I had gotten down to adding those last pieces, that it wasn't just a piece he was inspiring...but it would be for him. I've never created art specifically for, and about, one person. Yes, I find the concept of me even doing that incredibly fascinating.

As I said tho, he's not like anyone I've ever met before. Yes, I've known buddhists, but not to the level that he is at. He's inner peace and sanctity I find incredibly inspiring. He is comfortable with himself, and has risen above a lot of the nonsense that surrounds me. No ickiness inside, no ickiness allowed from without. Yes, I celebrate this superficially (yay, no asshole drunken-ness! Yay, he's not going to smoke pot around me and kill me! Yay, I don't have to watch someone do drugs which make me all kinds of uncomfortable!). Everyone knows I'm not even big on drinking, so finding someone who was even more substance free than myself = win. The inner peace, and his quest for it, is nothing short of awe-inspiring. As I mentioned in a previous post, Jesse is just damn awesome in this respect. Who knew monks were so damn sexy?

He's a chef, so we share the insane passion of food. In fact, not a single night goes by that we aren't mutually swooning over some form of culinary fantasy. Talking with him about my love of food actually rekindled a lot of my forgotten passion during this latest round of anorexia. Ah, how his mind works within the culinary creativity is nothing short of breathtaking. When we talked gnocci, I was about a nanosecond away from proposing.

We have a lot of the good stuff in common. He's a meganerd, too, which of course as we all know makes my dorky little heart swoon five ways from sunday.

I mean, he games! A lot! So he doesn't mind that I do!

(in fact, he thinks it's pretty darn awesome!)

He likes the same comics I do! Sandman love!

He appreciates good sci-fi and zombie flicks!

Ah...there's a big word right there that comes with describing the boy...appreciation. He appreciates that I am a dork. He appreciates the fact that I can be pretty darn thoughtful. He appreciates the fact that I have a brain working a million miles an hour (usually about the subject of brains). He appreciates the fact that I am an incredibly devoted mother.

Oh, there's the typical desireable traits, of course...he's incredibly intelligent, articulate, and well read. He's quite witty, and always seems to pry a giggle out of me. I look forward to all of our talks, because I really enjoy his unique take on the world. He also has this inherent kindness, a sweet, gentle nature...it catches me off guard sometimes, because it's so rare. He's respectful, polite, and very very genuine.

I will admit, a few days before he came out, I heard the little click click click of the gears in my head as they flipped over to the next line of thought in the series...

"I want to date him"

Awwwwwwww.....crap.

I made the decision in front of my therapist to ignore those last few clicks and just enjoy the fact that this awesome person that I was stoked to know was coming out for a visit. I mean, this was clearly a rare person in the world, and if he was for real, I was simply blessed in knowing him and sharing some time with him, nothing more, nothing less. Besides, we all know how these things work...very little of the chemistry one thinks exists translates in real life, right?

And, well, I don't want a thing right now. I'm really damn happy just being me all by myself. I like me. She's pretty Fucking cool. And my solo life is pretty fucking cool. Why would we need to fuck with that?

Aaaah, Universe! You Puckish Thing! You awesomely puckish, "gotta prove her wrong" thing!!

Yea, needless to say, the chemistry in real life was BEWM! in every awesomely delicious sense of the word. He actually swept me off my stubborn little feet. Twitterpation x a billion. Seriously, pink hearts falling out of our ears all over the damn place. His romantic nature actually surpasses even my own rosey little heart, how's that?! And everything just felt...natural. Calmly, serenely, natural.

*happy lil sigh*

OK, I'll wrap up this gushfest soon. Does this mean Sharona got boyfriended? No, we're taking things realllllllly slow. Our artful dodging of actual definition has been amusing, actually. We're maintaining exclusivity, as, well, this gal really only operates in monogamy, and thankfully, so does he. We are "exclusively monogamous in an otherwise nonspecified fashion of seeing eachother".

And as I am in a pretty straightforward path right now and was really loath to be veered from it by any fashion of relationship, the distance thing actually works to our advantage. He's on a direct path, too, of personal growth, so he is incredibly understanding to how much I need to put emphasis on my individual life right now. So does he.

So, I get to keep rockin', and doing my own thing.

He gets to keep rockin' in his muted, zen-y fashion, and doing his own thing.

And then we get to be together from time to time, and do...uh...our thing.

Exclusively.

Which is pretty damn awesome.

Did I mention he's crazy hawt? cuz, um...yea...daaaamn. And he thinks I am still a "unique beauty".

D'awwwww.

I'm going to go blush in the corner.