Fix and I spent our childhood and teen years in a fairly nomadic fashion.  So it came as no surprise that as adults we wanted roots and a permanent home, and yet picking up and moving our family to start over in a new place came fairly easy for us.

Our first two years of marriage found us in 4 different homes in the same area of southern CA. Two more years found us in 2 homes in northern AZ. Then came a move to southwest MI in 1995 where we put down roots and lived happily in the home we eventually bought until August of 2002. This little town in MI is where the 3 oldest kids still consider “home”, where they consider their roots to be and where the majority of their childhood friends, their maternal Grandfather and his entire family and  many fond memories reside.

In 2002 a family vacation to the mouse house in FL brought about an unexpected job opportunity. In the space of 4 weeks our home was packed and our family relocated to the sunshine state. We spent 10 months in a teeny house way to small for our tribe and then moved to a lovely home Fix and I expected we would buy and live in for years to come.

Fast forward 27 months to November of 2005 when we realized that living more than a few minutes away from our loves was to painful to contemplate and the decision to uproot our family again was made. Employment was secured and the move put in motion for the New Year.

I sit here now in the almost unpacked “mommies office” of what is our 5^th house in 3 ½ years since we moved to begin our life as a cohabitating quad. I can honestly say I am exhausted on many levels. Exhaustion aside I feel a euphoria about this move and this house that I haven’t felt in a very long time.

Our move from FL to our 1^st house here was overshadowed by Fix’s breakdown and we only lived there 4 weeks before we moved in with Big and Goddess. The first house we lived in together was Big’s childhood home and while we road the high of NRE, it was always very clear that was Big’s house and he would always have the final say. Our next house was supposed to be “our” house together. Within the first 3 months Fix and I were separated and we found out the person we bought the house from dealt with us unfairly and it was snatched away from us after a valiant 8 month struggle with the bank. Goddess and I felt no attachment to the house once we realized it could be ( and eventually was) taken. The next house, the one we have just vacated, was one Big found just in the nick of time and fit us acceptably. We knew it was temporary and therefore Goddess and I created no attachment there.

This house however is completely different. Goddess and I found this house. She and I structured the deal and with Fix’s help we dealt with the financial issues needed to get us moved in.

Goddess and I and all of the kids spent the better part of May moving small things in, painting, organizing and becoming acquainted with our new house. Fix has taken a week of vacation to help move the heavy things and take on the myriad of fix-it projects he excels at. Together the three of us have turned this house into a home. And a home it is. Fix, Goddess, myself and the children have all said this feels like home and we are all happy and comfortable within these walls and the shelter of the home that has embraced us.

I am certain it has not gone without notice that Big’s presence, nor thoughts on the matter has not been mentioned. This has not been done intentionally, it is an unfortunate fact of our current situation.

During the time of the house finding and negotiation, Big was flat on his back in a fair amount of discomfort dealing with back issues. We had to move quickly, so by the time he was able to move we had already finalized the deal. Couple this with Big working away from home 3-4 days a week and then dealing with work issues here locally once he gets back to town, has left little time for his involvement in this move.

While Fix ,Goddess, myself , and a partial contingent of kids complete this move  during this first week of June, Big and two of our boys are on a 6 day canoe trip with Boy Scouts. Again, his absence is glaring.

He has said that this is “a place to store his stuff”. He has made it clear to the adults he is not comfortable here, and is even less comfortable that this move was made in a fashion that kept our family intact. He had hoped in his heart of hearts that Fix and I would have taken our children and moved out on our own leaving “his” family to him. We are all painfully aware of how he wants things to be. But we are all also aware of the commitments we have made to these kids and amongst the 3 of us now a part of this Triad. Fix and I did not give up after 16 months of seperation, we fought for each other and our marriage. Goddess was by our side the entire time fighting just as hard. We DO NOT take this choice of being together lightly. We don’t give up when it gets hard or uncomfortable. We keep fighting for what we beleive in and what is imoprtant to us.

We presented this lifestyle to our children as a loving and commited choice. We did not bring them together with the intention of tearing them apart. Adult matters aside, we owe them what we promised. And as long as they are happy, and emotionally safe, then this is life we adults continue for their sake. Life is not easy, no one ever promised us it would be. I’m sorry Big struggles now with the commitments made.

It  is my sincere hope that in time he finds peace with this new turn our lives have taken. I feel for him. I understand his bewilderment. And his thoughts of “this isn’t how it is supposed to be”. I feel the same thoughts and emotions, albeit for different reasons.

For me it was supposed to be the 4 of us, we were coupled and were working together for a common goal. My heart is shattered, he has hurt me in a way no other man has. I am healing and finding a peace within. His presence in the same room can at times be tolerable and yet at other times be painfully unbearable. When we are all together in a family fashion such as a day at the pool to celebrate a child’s birthday then my heart weeps for what has been lost.

I wish Big well, and I hope he finds what he is looking for. I hope it is worth what is being cast aside and I hope he knows that my love for him was and remains still, sincere and meaningful. I will always love him, but I know now I will never be able to be with him again in any way beyond housemates.  I wish him peace, contentment, and joy in his future relationships and in life.

My heart will always hold you close my love, but my mind releases you and what was and should have been.

Temptress

In the continuing saga of finding a permanent residence for our family, we’ve come to a place where we might have some sense of stability for a time as yet to be determined.

In late April, Temptress and I got ourselves busy on the job of finding the “next” house.  Although we could have remained in our current placement for some unknown period of time, it wasn’t an option we wanted to exercise.  As I’ve said before, this place was a last ditch effort and we took it because we had exhausted so many other options in housing and were up against a timeline challenge.  As a result, we are scrunched (yes, that is a technical term) beyond belief in a dwelling that is financially stretching each month; in other words, too little space and too high a price.  Neither is good and together the combination is strangulating.

Knowing our lease was coming to term, the Mommies set to task.  By chance we went to look at a place we’d seen before and had previously deemed too small, but with the idea of seeing with “fresh eyes” and knowing the dynamics of our family shifts our needs from time to time, we thought we’d give it another go.  It, as expected, was not the place for us.  However, fate intervened on our behalf and as we entered that subdivision, we noticed another sign.  We took the number and called about what has turned out to be nothing but a near perfect fit on many levels. 

There must have been some cosmic level alignment, because all the factors fell into place and within a week’s time, we had secured a family friendly place to call home.  Since then we’ve spent weekends over there working in the yard, stripping wallpaper, painting rooms, refinishing furniture, and cleaning remnants of tenants past.

As it turns out, we have a 2 month overlap between leases, so we are enjoying a leisurely move, taking just want we want from day to day to complete the rooms and reorganizing belongings to suit each new room holder.  We’ve established a presence in the new place, even though we aren’t sleeping there yet.  Each room has something in it, a piece of furniture, a box of toys, some clothes in the closet, or a sign on the door.  The house is taking on our “family scent” (as we’ve been told) and when I walk in the door, I feel at home – peaceful and content – that this is a place we can live for a long time and be happy there.  We found a house; but we’re creating a home.

~the laundry goddess, May 19, 2009

When the story of my life is told, “frequently overwhelmed” is not really a phrase I want remembered.  Nevertheless, it seems to be a state in which I often find myself.

There was once a time when I was far busier, my day filled with activities at school, with the children, and at home.  From the time I woke up until the time I went to bed, I was doing – things for others, things for the kids, things for our church or community.

For years, I was the person who arrived at work early with treats for my co-workers, was always prepared for class with full lesson plans, and still worked  hours at home serving my family with clean laundry and wholesome meals.  My kitchen stayed clean, the bathrooms immaculate, and I even had time to connect with friends through the computer.  Bills were paid on time, the kid’s activity fees were covered, and we always had groceries in the house that reflected my carefully planned menus.  We went places and did fun things together.

Of late, it feels everything in my life now is behind the eight ball.  My house is a disaster all the time, clutter is everywhere, and I feel like a family of sardines live in this house that barely fits us and costs way too much for what we’re getting.  We have a stack of bills and daily reminder phone calls to juggle.  My daily routine starts before day break and many days I spend hours in the seat of the family vehicle playing Taxi Driver to those who cannot drive for themselves.

Now I feel like I get nothing accomplished from day to day.  I wake up tired and I go to bed tired while I lay there wondering where the day went and if I’ll be able to look up at any point in my life and be able to offer a list of accomplishments that extend beyond my manic Mondays, frantic Fridays, or wacky weekends.

I spend many days battling my urge to dream of a life more independent; where I am in control of the risks affecting me, and where I can make wise and informed choices before its too late.  I wonder what happened to my energy and my motivation.  I wonder what happened to me.  Few days go by without tears, and most days end with them.  My favorite activity now is lying quietly snuggled against Temptress, hoping sleep will deliver me to a place of peace and serenity before being pulled into another dutiful arena.

We have a new business that we are trying to get up and running.  We are coming to the end of our lease term and should be moving – again – to find something more permanent and stable for our family.  We are nearing the summer months, where the fundamental nature of my existence for nearly three months is spent in an endless pattern between the stove, refrigerator, and sink playing Chief Cook and Bottle Washer to nine children who waiver between boredom and summer hyperactivity. (Would this be a good time to interject my thoughts on year round schooling again?   Nah, I’ll let this one pass…)

There was a time in my life when I would have been advised (and would have probably followed through) to “let go and let God.”  But years later a frustrated me still found discontentment in the journey and realized the problem with laying one’s woes (or the responsibility thereof) at the feet of another.

It would be nice to wake up one morning to find we’d won the lottery, to stumble upon some valuable thing in the attic, or to receive an unexpected IRS rebate in the mailbox.  What I want is for fate to give us a break, for someone to believe in us, to have someone to step in as a benevolent benefactor and give us a step up; just one tiny nudge in the right direction.  Those who say money can’t buy happiness are not giving enough credence to the fact that lack of money can certainly create deficit of contented choices.

What I think I need to do is to get a grip on reality; to take charge and make some decisions that pull me out of whatever funk I’m wearing and get me back into performance mode.  Or maybe, that is the cloak I’m desperately trying to take off.  I wonder if what I think I should be doing is just ingrained obligation bubbling to the top of an otherwise restructured life.

Maybe it is accurate that those who do not truly experience a childhood and adolescence are doomed to seek it later in life; to long for days of freedom and frivolity that were not a part of the growing up years.  The parentified child in me grows uncomfortable with the shackles of the adult life I pursued for so long.  I think I falsely believed that when I chose maturity for myself, I would hold the control for my own life and the power others held against me would suddenly be null.

But what I have found is how much life becomes increasingly more restrictive as we age.  The older I get, the fewer amenable choices remain.  The less I can think of myself and the more I am forced into decisions that echo the wishes of others.  I begin to sink back into the hollows of the endless mind and wonder who the actual author of my life story will become as the pages continue to turn. 

~ the laundry goddess, April 14, 2009

This morning one of our chicks is taking a huge leap from home and away from the protective shelter of our nest.
Miss Academic is jetting away on a school trip for the next 9 days to Greece.
We are all pleased and excited for her to be able to have this wonderful opportunity, but we would not be mothers if there were not trepidation over this journey.
One of our younglings is traveling half a world away, far from our reach… she goes with our love and our blessings.
We hope each of you will take a moment over the next 9 days to send her a bit of heartfelt good energy to help us keep her safe.

Have a wonderful time darling ! We love you….

The Mommies

After 16 months of a long and arduous separation, it is with a happy heart that I can tell you that Fix will be spending this weekend moving his belongings back into the family home.

These many months have been a time of discovery. They have been filled with tears, heartache, loneliness, anger and sadness. But they have also been filled with love and hope. Both of which have seen us thru until we could once again bring our family back together again.  I think we all learned a few lessons, and found out we are culpable in any situation, there is never one person at fault, nor one person whom you can heap the blame onto.

Fix and I created patterns and made choices early on in our marriage, that looking back I can see were not the best for us in the long run. We became comfortable and complacent in our roles even if they were not the ones that we were happiest with or that fulfilled us. Mistakes were made along the way that over the years just became status quo.  In trying to change  some of those we rocked the boat and created a tidal wave of issues that almost drowned us. I think now we both understand that  the people we became were not the people that we truly were. Both of us put away things that were important in order to create our peaceful lives. Yes marriage is about compromise, but it’s not about losing yourself.

Fix and I both understand now that after 18 years we are different people than were in 1990 and we are getting to know our new life mate. I like the person I have become and I like who I see in him. We are in a good place now and it brings me peace, I hope he is feeling the same.

We all made mistakes in the formation of this quad, we have all paid a price and I like to think that we have all in some small way gained something. Our “quad” no longer looks like it did 3 years ago, the appearance has changed along with the relationships. I think however that no matter how the quad looks or how each relationship has evolved we are all still committed to our families, our loves and our children.

This polyamorous life we have chosen is not easy, but then again nothing in this life worth having is rarely easy to gain. For all of the tears and heartache, the love gained and the family created is so very worth it.

Welcome home my love.

Welcome home.

~ Temptress

The kids went back to school today.  YAY!  As much as I love my children, I have come to crave my quiet time as well.  I suppose that marks me as growing old, the state of aging when music gets to loud and you just don’t “get” the latest fashion trends.  The most notable of all signs of aging is the inability of the body to resist distress and a slow recovery when it does falter.  This has never been as evident to me as the last few weeks.

In mid November, Temptress and I had a great idea to reorganize our office/craft room.  We worked hard and it looked great.  Later that evening I did something simple, like bend at the waist, and heard a distinct and pronounced pop resonating from my lower back.  There was no pain, just normal fatigue from the day so I went about my agenda without thought.  As the days went by I noticed a slight discomfort when I sat for too long, or as I changed positions from sitting to standing.  And true to my personality, I ignored it.  Besides, Mommies can’t get sick, we’re too valuable to the household management.

The weeks went by and my discomfort became pain.  Sitting was now intolerable and walking/climbing stairs was preferred to standing.   Then came the day when standing was no longer tolerable, and bending over the sink to brush my teeth always came with tears.  The “shower dance” as I jockeyed for a comfortable position was highly suspect by my housemates.  I could no longer ignore or rationalize away the “inconvenience” of being less than well.  

Now under a doctor’s care, I’m doing everything I’m supposed to – being a good patient, icing the wound, taking my analgesics and anti-inflammatory meds.  I’m even having a go with some muscle relaxers.  I’m not much for OTC or Rx remedies, so taking those pills is sometimes a mental leap, but along with my stretches, and support brace, and chiropractic visits, the pysche is recovering from weeks of uninterrupted pain cycles and I’m beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak.

[Just for the record, sciatica sucks!  Did you know the Sciatic is the longest nerve in the body?  It reaches from the lumbar area all the way to the ankles… what a joy, NOT.]

I suppose it couldn’t have been better timing, with the kids out of school and Christmas looming, but then again, the holidays have never really agreed with me.  The good news is that while I’m down for the count, the other parents on duty had plenty of older kids around to help ease the burden of having to wait on me hand and foot, another thing I absolutely detest. All my volunteer caretakers have been exceptionally wonderful.  I only hope I’ve made it somewhat easy on them, as I hate asking for anything, and the perfunctory needs of one practically bedridden independent Mommy type are beginning to grate on my nerves.

On a happy note, I’ve appeased the teenage daughters by spending the first week reading the four novel saga of Bella and Edward in the Twilight series.  Entertaining, if you keep in mind its target audience of young teen females, even if the author recreated her own lore where the night creatures are concerned.  I am still of the opinion that my own twisted soul would prefer a seductive and animalistic Lykae lover to a forever teenage Vampire, but to each his own.  (For more on that topic, feel free to email Temptress about her favorite Lore based erotic fiction author…)

In addition to Twilight, I’m rereading the Harry Potter series in succession, as I’ve only read those books as they were published, quite spread out.  I’m also working on dismantling piles of old magazines and when I must lie flat, I have a handy box of old business papers I’m shredding for Big.  The kids would hear the shredder and come running…  “Are you bored again?”

I have missed so much, been off line, out of touch, and denied access to so many of my sanity saving habits.  I’m itching to do laundry, rearrange my bedroom, and bake something scrumptious in the kitchen (and not because Temptress isn’t doing a good job) it is just that I realize not only men base their self valuation on the accomplishments of the day.  Most especially in the last few days I’ve realized how much of “who I think I am” is based on what I do, and how the completion of those tasks please me, if not in the doing, at least in the presentation of accomplishment and service.  The whole experience has given new meaning to “service with a smile!”

Not that I miss the dirty dishes, but I did miss knowing that my standard, “I love you, have a good day,” was not the last thing the children heard before stepping onto the bus.  I don’t miss the non-stop refereeing that requires a parent on her feet and fully seen, but I’ve found myself humming Guitar Hero’s version of “American Woman” all morning with the lingering vocals of Casanova.  (Guess what the family got for Christmas??)  It’s easy for me to be waxing poetic about the pitter pat of missing feet, but when the munchkins arrive home this afternoon, snack hungry and wound for sound, I’ll once again be thankful for this morning’s bit of peace.  And for as long as I’m forced into a supine position, I’ll be grateful my Temptress is right here at my side.

~ the laundry goddess, January 6, 2009

Today Fix was at the house hanging out with us, helping work on a few things around the house, having dinner, and playing around with the kids.  Casanova (YM8) came through the dinning area after dinner with a bandana on his arm like a sling, announcing he had a broken arm.  Then he proceeded to take it off and use it for a parachute, launching some appropriately sized boy toys over the banister into the foyer below.

Fix decide he was going to make The Most Amazing Parachute Ever and then he calls to Casanova and says, “Bring me your G.I. Joe!” 

“Huh?  What’s that?”  says the boy.

Fix replies aghast, “What do you mean, “What’s that?”  It’s G.I. JOE!  Everybody knows what G.I. Joe is.  What’s wrong here?”  We could hear him huff from the other room.  Temptress and I began to chuckle from our office.

Our families have had such different backgrounds; I honestly never thought to introduce the boy to G.I. Joe.  His two older brothers didn’t have such toys either.  No guns, no green army men, and no other types of military or war items.  In fact, the closest thing to cowboys and Indians they ever got was Toy Story’s Buzz and Woody.  Not that I’m against these toys, (ok, I’m a passivist, so maybe I influenced that a little, but…) they just didn’t ever enter the picture as something I would have chosen for them, nor did they ever ask for such.

I was raised in a house of women.  No brothers, no father, not even any uncles, cousins, or boy friends that were around enough to have any type of influence in gender roles for this little girl.  I was always immersed in “feminine” play things:  baby dolls, Barbie, Holly Hobbie, and Easy Bake Oven.  There was a boy about my age, the son of my mother’s friend, who had G.I. Joes.  When we were in our early elementary years, he would bring them and play with me and my Barbies.  This, of course, was never a first choice of play time for either of us, but as long as we were forced together, we made the best of it.

Suffice to say, my boys have been gifted toys of art, music, building sets, books, sports equipment, camping and scout gear, games that teach, and now that they are older, some video games.  OK, I’ll admit it, yes, I’m one of those moms.  But I’m learning to relax a little and accept that boys will indeed be boys and that is still ok.  Not that my boys are prissy, but they are far from the other end of the spectrum.

Big isn’t much of a macho guy either.  For those of you that know him, he’s totally a “Suit.”  He hikes and camps and does the scout thing and an occasional fishing trip with his Dad, but he doesn’t hunt or have any hobbies that require weapons.  He isn’t much of a sports fan and most months no one in the house even has a clue what season it happens to be.  (The only exception being high school football, but we’re there for the marching band, LOL)  Anyway, you get the picture.  Back to tonight…

Fix stands there in our craft room, eyes amusingly mocking me, and asks in a humorously indignant tone exactly what kind of a mother I am not buying the boy a G.I. Joe.  “That’s a sacrilege, you know.”  I smile politely and told him what I told you, it just never entered my head to do so.  He rolls his eyes and takes one look at the pajama clad boy and says, “Go get your shoes on.”

At 30 minutes ‘til bedtime, Fix and the underprivileged boy head out to our local oversized-under priced-multi purpose-store-for-everything (ya, you know the one) in search of that thing he couldn’t wait another minute to own.  And I glowed.  THIS is what our family is all about.

Sometimes polyamory gets a bad wrap.  People get all hung up on the multiple relationships between the adults.  But as far as I am concerned, there is nothing like the love and bonding I see between my children and the others that we now consider family.

Just like one person cannot possibly meet the needs of another, in my estimation, even two parents cannot possibly cover all the facets of childhood.  My kids need my OCD tendencies and love for culinary creations, Big’s mathematical intellect and risk management style, Temptress’ technical expertise and relaxed approach to life, and they most certainly benefit from Fix’s mechanical brilliance and his heart for those really important things like G.I. Joes.

It’s now WAY past bedtime, and all the really big kids in the house are at the kitchen table oohing and ahhing over the tiny sized weapons and green army tank.  But it’s a Saturday night and we’re making memories over here.

~the laundry goddess, August 30, 2008