War Zone

Before this battlefield
We were on our way to better days
Rolling like a freight train with no brakes into the future like we had it made

I can see the smoke rolling off your gun
And them lips tellin’ me we’re done
Sometimes some of them shots you just can’t outrun

When you’re living in a warzone
With a heart full of bullet holes and boarded up windows
We’ve been riding out this storm for way too long

How we gonna call this house a home
Living in a warzone

~Bailey Zimmerman

Adam went into work for awhile, this morning. After he got home, I cleaned out both of our fridges, and Adam loaded the back of his truck up with things to take to recycling, and then to the dump. Our garage was full of Amazon boxes, and we just recently got a new mattress for our bed. I had loved the one we’d had, but it was losing its appeal after having it for over eight years. One night, I’d tossed and turned, attempting to finally get comfortable, but to no avail. Adam had woke up to me sitting up in bed, with my head resting on my knees. The next morning, I texted him and asked “Can I buy a new mattress?” I got an immediate response from him that said simply, “Yes”. Beings I’d already anticipated that would be his reply, I’d already spent a couple hours researching. I sent him a few options I’d found. Of course, I knew which of them would be my first choice, but naturally my number one pick was the most expensive. I explained my reasons for each of the options I’d presented, and he surprised me by telling me to get the best one, because he wanted me to be able to sleep comfortably again! It took a few days for it to be delivered, and let me tell you, I’ve slept amazing ever since we got it! I only regret that I waited so long to replace our old one.

Adam hauled off our boxes, everything I’d cleaned out of our fridges, and our worn out old mattress. Where we live, there’s a specific recycling center to bring things like old mattresses and box springs. For a small fee, they’ll take them off our hands. Later, he got to be the “passenger prince”, when he came along with me to the grocery store. He almost always drives anywhere we go together, but every once in awhile I sneak into the driver’s seat before he can. We ended up goofing around, and picked up some unnecessary things, like the Reeces ice cream I grabbed and soft serve cookies and cream he wanted. He had the leftover pizza we still had from last night, and then I made us each a big bowl of the ice cream we brought home for ourselves.

I made a couple of craft projects, while I watched TV. I’d finished the reality show I’d been watching, and browsed Hulu, Netflix, Paramount Plus, Prime TV, and all the other various apps we subscribe to. I wound up settling on The Nanny. When I was a kid, I’d seen a few episodes, but never really watched since. I’m already totally invested! I absolutely love these old TV series. They don’t make much these days that’s anywhere near as good as old classics.

I’ve been listening to fireworks being lit all around our neighborhood. I can hardly believe it’s going to be the 4th already! I’m excited, this year. Last year was mostly a blur, for me. Trying to remember in any detail is like attempting to decipher the plot in a book with 2/3 of the pages missing. It’s as if the previous year was 12 entire months of one long cold winter. My very least favorite season. Dreary, cloudy, freezing, and trapped inside while doing my best to keep warm. I’m finally enjoying and even participating in my favorite time of year, this year.

Adam has babied the hell out of me, the last year. Even when I’m sassy, lashing out, or screwing up. He gives me so much grace. Mostly because he understands my harsh tone and words are an expression of my fears, hurt, and sadness. Misplaced emotions, being delivered to him, because there’s no one else I feel safe enough to fall apart with. He also carries guilt. He feels sorry for me, while blaming himself, even though I’ve never held him responsible for the shitstorm. To be completely honest, I do believe part of the reason for our mess lands on him. Not in the ways some people would think, though. He waited too long. He should’ve taken action much sooner. Maybe we could’ve prevented at least part of the mess. I wish he could’ve recognized the significance of many of the issues we’d been struggling with for far longer than the one evening when the pressure valve finally burst, and he could no longer pretend we weren’t in trouble. We’d been in over our heads, with behaviors we couldn’t manage, tolerate, or convince his son to change. We’d lost any semblance of power over what was happening far earlier than really either one of us would’ve admitted. It’s not as easy as you’d imagine, to admit. Part of me had heard alarm bells ringing for months. Part of me would also question the warning bells. He’s a boy, and boys aren’t always going to be like my girls in their actions, choices, or responses. Am I being too harsh? Do I tolerate things my girls do, but not him? Am I a good mom? Have I given him enough love? Do I weigh his actions heavier because I’m afraid he’ll wind up following in his birth mom’s footsteps? I’d argue with my persistent concerns, and insist his behaviors were still normal. Teenagers lie, after all. They can be rude, disrespectful, and particularly teen boys have been known to be aggressive at times. He’ll grow up, I told myself. Clearly, Adam was not the only one with his head buried in the sand. We both failed.

I’m going to sit here and watch one more episode of The Nanny. I didn’t intend to write the paragraph above, when I decided to write here tonight. It just sort of came out. It’s been a good day. I’ve felt pretty peaceful and content. I’m also very much looking forward to getting my sexy husband between my legs.