Because My Girl is Just So Awesome

The bank dilemma of last week appears to have been solved.  The money was credited to my account but it seems the record of the deposit, on their end, is nowhere to be found.  When I have more time, I plan to move my money to a different bank.  It appears that Chase Bank's system makes them a little vulnerable to these kind of problems.

I don't want to go into that too much because I'm about to return to work, which always feels a little like going underground.  We often refer to it as being in the trenches or reporting to the factory only to be released when the foreman tells us it's time to go home.  I want to briefly talk about how wonderful my girl is.

Eliza will be starting a preschool/day care kind of program in September.  She's a few months younger than the other kids in her class so the center's director asked me to bring Eliza by last week to make sure she'd fit into the class and be able to follow-along.  At first Eliza clung to me, refusing to speak any words.  The first word the director heard her say was "Dora" as we passed a Dora backpack in the cubby area.  

We entered the classroom as the kids were putting on sunscreen.  The director spoke to Eliza about putting on sunscreen to protect the skin and asked if Eliza wore sunscreen.  Eliza nodded emphatically, said she always wore sunscreen to the pool, to the beach but she couldn't "go into the Dead Sea because the water is very, very salty."

I knew then that it would all go well.  Eliza followed instruction, sat in the circle for story time (with a good deal of shushing from me), and even helped put toys away.  When the teacher asked Eliza to introduce herself, Eliza's finger went around the circle asking every other child his or her name.  

We went back to the center today to drop off our deposit and Eliza immediately asked "Can I go meet my friends now?"  

We visited my mother over the weekend to celebrate my mother's birthday and Eliza's interaction with my autistic adult brother also was lovely and amazing.  When I was young, my brother could pass for normal.  However now, with his lobotomy standard haircut, coke bottle glasses and frequent seizure expressions, he is easily categorized as "different."  Billy is also pretty tall, often doesn't make eye contact and doesn't interact in a regular way.  When he first pressed into my mother's house in the middle of a coughing fit, I didn't blame Eliza for clinging to me and saying "I'm afraid of Billy."

I told her I didn't want to be afraid of Billy.  When he came out of the bathroom and I said hello (ignored) and Eliza grinned and waved enthusiastically (ignored), I wondered why we'd gone through the trouble of visiting on his birthday in the first place.  Billy didn't look at either one of us, bent in an odd position and farted loudly.  Then he smiled and acknowledged our presence.  Nothing like a good toot to get the party started.

Later, as I tickled Billy and Eliza jumped to my side, ready to tickle and tease, I suddenly got emotional.  My daughter's kindness and tolerance is astonishing.

The day after Billy's party, I took Eliza to visit my mother's neighbor.  This neighbor, who I'll call Karen, runs a small day care center out of her home.  With a pool, seasaws, mini cars and mini-roller coasters, it's like candy land for kids.  Eliza has come to know Karen's regulars.  At one point, all the kids were clustered on the swings.  One girl crossed too close to another kids swing and ended up on the ground crying.  I picked up the crying child and Eliza immediately crossed to the kid who was swinging and said "You hurt her."  Eliza wouldn't resume playing until she knew the other girl was alright.  Her consideration was wonderful.  

That's my girl.  Less than three years old and looking out for everyone.  I wanted to record some of this stuff so I won't forget.  Years from now, when my daughter is a teenager screaming about how much she hates me, I want to come here and remember the person she really is and will be again.

Because Chase Bank Sucks

If anyone out there is still reading, I could really use your comments here to pass along to Chase Bank.  Last Friday I deposited my paycheck from my first week at work--a 72 hour work week.  I have the receipt to show that a deposit was made on that day.  However, according to Chase Bank. this transaction never happened.

There is no record on Chase Bank's computer of the transaction.  No entry that says a deposit was made, the money is pending, nothing.  The little slip of paper I received after I made the deposit only states the amount, the last four digits of my account number, the branch address and a transaction number.  Apparently, none of these numbers were capable of effectively calling up this transaction.  

I spent a large portion of the day on the phone, punching in numbers as I was passed from one automated system to another.  When I finally got through to a person, they told me I'd need to call the branch that accepted the deposit.  Unfortunately, whenever I called that number, I found myself back in the same automated system I'd just come from.  Insisting some one transfer me directly to the location led me to a woman at a different location.  She was kind, took down the same information for the third time, and told me she'd put in a request for an "inquiry."  When I finally dragged Eliza to the bank and produced the receipt, the woman at customer service said that yes indeed an inquiry had been made and I should be contacted shortly.

The end of the day rolled around with no contact.  When I called the 1-800 number, this time to file a complaint, I detailed the information a fourth time.  No answers were provided, no promises to rectify the matter were made.  The receipt I've been given apparently is useless in terms of tracking down exactly how my money was misplaced.  Basically, the woman told me I'd have to wait 48 hours and then return to the branch with my receipt in hand.  I asked her repeatedly why the receipt wasn't proof enough that the transaction happened and she again replied, "I'm sorry, I understand your frustration."

I desperately need that money that Chase Bank can't find.  I was pretty sick all day because of this.  I explained to the woman today that I don't have the time tomorrow to spend on the phone in the hope that they'll fix what they've done.  I realize that mistakes do happen but their inability to offer any real assurance that the problem will be solved and that the receipt is proof that I made a deposit is inhumane, cruel and completely unacceptable.

Sing it loud, sing it clear, Chase Bank sucks, they suck, they suck.  They have to fix this, immediately.

Why Coldplay Rocks My World

So Mr. Gwyneth Paltrow, aka the lead singer of the band Coldplay has taken over XM satellite radio.  Not satisfied with the heavy rotation they enjoy on practically every contemporary radio station, this band has such world domination that XM has dedicated an entire station to all Coldplay, all the time.  My response to this news was, as I'd said to a recent paramour (yes, you read that right), "We all need more Coldplay in our lives."

More on that recent paramour later.  Don't get excited; there's nothing to tell.  It was only a work crush that passed unacknowledged and ended when the job ended.

Tonight, while ODing on Coldplay and liking it, I recognized that the band had done a cover of an excellent Echo and the Bunnyman song.  "Lips Like Sugar," a song from the early 1980s that would have surely been a classic had anyone actually heard it, pounded from the stereo with the lush orchestration of a typical Coldplay song.  Eliza, already dressed in her tutu and swimsuit top, sashayed with joy, cognizant of my newfound Coldplay, stuck-in-the-80s happiness.  Facing her, I did the funky monkey (arms pedaling up and down like a jackhammer), the snappy sway (wiggling side to side while snapping my fingers), and the non-trampoline bounce (jumping up and down like an idiot).  Every move I made, my daughter echoed with the sure steadiness of a miniature clone.  Roaring into the funky monkey yet again, I started laughing wildly flattered by my daughter's apparent attempts to create a mirror image of Mama.  

Eliza threw her head back, imitated my laugh, and pumped her arms up and down with the vigor of a steam engine.  The song blared through the apartment and I remembered the early 80s, the fantastic boyfriend who'd introduced me to Echo and the Bunnyman, and felt overjoyed to share this moment and this Coldplay with my wonderful, wacky and utterly delicious daughter.  I've said this so many times and I'm sure I'll continue to say it until Eliza hits the terrible tweens; this kid is the big love of my life.  So many moments I spend with her are so great, so amazing I think I might implode from the inside from complete and devout happiness.  How great is music and dancing and the joy of sharing the two with my love.

So this is me for now, relishing Coldplay and the lovely Eliza.  Going back to that paramour, as I said it was really nothing.  He was 26, fourteen years younger than myself, great-looking, smart, kind and totally interested in me.  How lucky did I feel when a guy with that much going for him found all 40 years of me interesting.  Back in April, I'd had the move-out date set and an apartment secured.  I went to work deliriously happy, amazed that I could still feel that way about anyone.  In the end though, I let it go, as did he.  I'm a mother now and I've no room in my life for mindless flings.  It was flattering, it was fun, but there's nothing more to add.

On the last night of a six day work week, he and I chose to spend our lunch hour sleeping in the video room.  Nothing more happened, we simply slept on couches that were joined at the armrests in an L shape.  We lay down, both knowing we were only a few inches away from actual contact.  I lay there, my iPod blaring Coldplay in my ears, thinking this was closer to actual intimacy with an adult than I'd had in years.  It felt sexy, daring, and enormously comforting all at the same time.  When it was time to return to the real world, I sat up, pulled out the earphones and told him that we all need more Coldplay in our lives.  

Timecards

Lest anyone think I exaggerate about the hours we work in TV, here's my schedule last week.  We are not paid for travel time so these hours don't indicate a big pay day.  This is a big travel job with only two days scheduled to be shot at the stage.  

Monday--left at 6am, home at 9:50am.

Tuesday--left at 7:30am, home a few minutes before midnight.

Wednesday--left at 10:15am, home at 2:30am.

Thursday--left at 3:25pm, home at 6am.

Friday--left at 3:30pm, home at 9:30am.  

Everybody wants to be me!

The Necessary Action

I'm on "vacation" this weekend with C and his family at their beach house.  His parents hadn't seen Eliza in a while and I thought I could make it through a weekend without any dramatics.  I should know better.  I start work tomorrow and didn't want to send Eliza off with C to his folks without me.  I thought I could be a grown-up and make it through one weekend.

Unfortunately, I am such a screw-up that I didn't.  I realize I am only human and my relationship with C is so unfortunately bad, of course I'm going to mess up.  It's impossible to pretend in close quarters that he and I get along.  His parents love Eliza and she is having a fantastic time here.  I don't belong here, I'm not really wanted here, I shouldn't be here.

C's mother has been perfectly welcoming to me.  She has her agenda with Eliza, and though I don't agree with a lot of what she does, she is Eliza's grandmother and she loves her.  She is much healthier than my mother, she tries to make us all happy and she wants to have a relationship with her granddaughter.  The beach house is beautiful in a wonderful town with a boardwalk and rides.  It's a little paradise for Eliza.  I wanted to come here and enjoy my daughter at the beach.  C's mother also wants to enjoy Eliza at the beach--the problem is, she wants me to go away.

Now I have to preface this by saying, she doesn't want me gone all the time.  She just wants her moments with Eliza and she doesn't want me to interrupt.  The problem is; I love being with Eliza so much I do interrupt.  We all went to the beach on Friday and I gave Eliza some time alone with her grandmother by the waves.  But she was having so much fun, I had to finally approach them to be a part of it.  I'd already told C's mother they'd babysit Eliza the following night and they could take her for to the bookstore in the morning.  I figured we could all enjoy her together on the beach.  For the most part we did but if Eliza and I were playing in the sand, his mother would come up with a toy and say, "Come over here."  Little things, manageable things really, but it feels like a competition.

So yesterday rolled around and C started to act like a jerk.  His parents took Eliza into town and C spent the morning with his brother and brother's girlfriend.  I worked while everyone else was out having a good time.  C's parents brought Eliza back for her nap and I'd hoped to take her to a local water park for the afternoon.  She didn't want to go.  C had been nasty to me all day and finally I exploded and told his mother we didn't need them to babysit after all.  I know this was stupid and wrong for me to do.  I don't want to put her in the middle of our shit.  But I didn't want to spend the evening with C.  

Eliza decided she wanted to go to the beach with C and her uncle and "aunt" and the three of them took off for the beach, leaving me with C's mother.  She was in every way kind to me, didn't bring up my outburst and helped me get out a bike.  I had a great bike ride but I missed my daughter.  I knew she was having a great time at the beach and I longed to see her.   I enjoyed the ride and tried to make the most of my time without her.  

When C returned, his mother encouraged him to include me in his plans with his brother.  I refused, saying I wanted to spend the evening with Eliza.  His parents were taking her to the boardwalk rides and even though I knew they wanted to do this without me, I'd be happy to be the third wheel, watching my daughter have fun from afar.  I don't have a good time with C.  I don't enjoy his company.  I know it's awkward and it makes his family uncomfortable.  I know my presence now makes everyone unhappy because C and I don't get along.  This is his family.  We are not married.  

C finally convinced me to go out with him by saying I'm so on top of Eliza, I deny everyone else the chance to have a relationship with her.  This is not entirely untrue.  It's not that I don't want others to have time with her, I just enjoy her so much.  This is part of the reason I'm returning to work.  I know I have to get a life in order to allow her to have one.  

His mother was thrilled to have Eliza all to herself.  She said repeatedly how much she has to have time with Eliza without C or myself around.  This is a bit of an alien concept to me.  We don't act like this in my family.  While I'm sure both my parent relish time alone with Eliza, it is not forced upon me whenever I'm with them.  I am extremely close to my grandmother and we saw her once a year.  I don't even think she and I did things alone together until I was older.  My family would never say, as C's mother has said to me, that Eliza acts differently towards them when I'm not around so I have to give Eliza time with her alone.  I don't have a problem with this if I've got something important to do.  However, on my last weekend with her before I return to work, it's hard to let go.

And this is the necessary action, letting go of my daughter.  I went out with C and we had an okay night.  His mood swung back in the wanting to please me mood.  Whatever had been bothering him before had disappeared.  I am not blameless--I freak out about his mother and her eccentricities when I should not complain about them to C.  She's not going to change and as much as he defends her it probably bothers him too.  But I would have much rather been on the boardwalk watching my daughter smile and wave from the rides then with him.  

I missed her so intensely while I smiled through dinner.  Usually I enjoy going out, having an adult night but I'd hardly spent any time with her during the day and let's fact it, C doesn't really want me around.  And even if he did, we're past the point of saving this now.  I don't belong here.  And yet I came so I could be with her before I returned to work.  I came so she could have the wonderful weekend she's having and I could be a part of it.  

I know I have to leave and I know that I will.  But how will I handle entire weekends without her?  Weekends where she's happily jumping in the waves with her grandmother and father while they all rejoice in my absence?  What kind of life will I be able to give her alone?  She doesn't have beach houses and siblings and healthy grandparents in my life.  I'm afraid she'll go for a weekend and decide she doesn't ever want to come back to her crappy life with Mama.  And then there's the other issue of how much I'll miss her because I don't have a life.  

I have wanted things to work with C for so long for this reason--my inability to spend blocks of time without her.  This is the way it is for split and divorced parents; they shuttle the kids back and forth.  C will go on to have a new girlfriend, one whom Eliza might relate to and love.  I am 40, in a terrible career, virtually ignored by many of my friends because people fall into busy lives.  

This weekend proves that I can't stay with him.  I can't put his family in the middle.  He is their son, they love him and see him as faultless.  To be honest, I find it shocking that his mother is so open about time with Eliza without her own son around.  My father used to say how much he wanted time alone with Eliza when she was littler and didn't respond to him.  Now that she's more into him, he seems to really enjoy the times that we're all together.  As my stepmother said recently, "Your father is your father first.  When he saw Eliza hit you, he was really upset."  So I don't really know how to take C's mother being that she's so different from my own family.   Tonight as we left, C's mother was in the driveway with Eliza saying "Who are you going to go on the ferris wheel with first?"  When Eliza didn't answer, she asked again and again.  Finally, she offered the response she wanted.  "You'll go one the ride with Grandma."  Eliza repeated this statement and C's mother hugged her, elated.  It's no big deal, but I find it funny and a little bit creepy.   I think her heart is in the right place but it does take some getting used to.

Like I said, I need to get a life so my daughter can have one.  I need to do something with myself so when she's happily enjoying her time on the ferris wheel with people who don't love me, I'll live.

The Off Switch I So Desperately Need

My mother has told me that I need an off switch for my brain and she's right.  I think too much.  I don't have the ability to enjoy life.  My father asked me recently if I was ever happy.  My job starts on Monday at 6:30 am and I don't want to do it.  With such an early start on Monday, it's quite possible I won't see Eliza at all during that week.  Five days without seeing my daughter is not a life I want.

I really want to work.  My mother started to work full-time when she and my father split.  I became acutely aware of how much happier my mother seemed as a working woman.  Her job provided her with a real sense of personal accomplishment.  She was a reporter for a local newspaper.  Growing up, I dreamed of being a writer as well though I thought I would do better than a local newspaper.

Now I'd happily take a local newspaper job but I can't seem to make anything happen with my writing.  On one hand, I haven't tried as hard as I could but as I get older, the chances of anything happening with my writer grow slimmer and slimmer.  I took a magazine writing course earlier this year and wrote a wonderful essay about my three miscarriages.  It has since been rejected or ignored by every magazine I've sent it to.  At More Magazine, they sent a kind personal rejection which would indicate that it will get published somewhere but my follow-up with a different story idea was ignored.  

I continue to write for my freebie magazine and hope it will pay off in some sense.  So far, I've only managed to accrue one good clip.  They'll publish a personal essay if I write one they like so I've got to get on that.  

I want Eliza to know a happy Mama, not this odd basket case that I've been for the past two years.  Part of what was missing when I was home with her was the working me.  I don't mind my job as a script supervisor, I simply don't want to do the hours anymore.  It feels great to be in demand, even after close to three years out of the loop.  It also is flattering that they're willing to let me job share with a great friend.  What other kind of job offers some one two weeks off a month?

But being completely unavailable to my daughter for five days in a row is not the kind of mother I want to be.  Although my mother worked, she was always there for me.  I could call her, in an emergency she could be home for me in an absolute emergency.  She only worked 15 minutes away.  

How do I get to where I want to be?  With a decent job, a home for myself and Eliza and the ability to have dinner with my daughter most nights?  I feel like such a failure.  I'm 40 years old and this is the best I can do.  A career where I make less money than I did when I started, work longer hours and will never get promoted.  It can be fun, there's still elements that I love about being on set but who else would work 80 hours a week for entire seasons and never get promoted.  And the skills I've acquired on this job aren't translating into another position.  

So I made an extremely bad career choice, now how do I fix it?