DO NOT CROSS

Sometimes, I wish I could create a yellow and black tape perimeter around me, my house and my little family. There are just some people in this world that simply do not comprehend social boundaries and require some sort of visual to assist them. It's a great concept, in theory, if only it were acceptable.

You see, we have run into a bit of an issue lately. A little background: Prior to us taking over custody, Ian's mom's sister and her husband used to pick Ian up from school and take him to their home every Thursday. Being that Adam and I are sharing a car at the moment and he has school this semester until 7pm on Thursdays, leaving me at work without transportation, it really helped us out to continue that plan. Unfortunately, after only three weeks of this, we have already become highly annoyed.

For one, on the very first night they dropped him off, they just waltzed into our home without an invitation and sat down in our kitchen. I'm sorry but when I go to someone's house, I wait outside the door until I am invited in and even then, I do not take a seat unless it is offered to me. I thought that was common courtesy, but apparently not everyone has received that memo. They also garnished me with hugs and kisses on the cheek. I have met these people twice in my lifetime and anyone who knows me well, knows how much I despise fake niceties.

By the second week, Ian had begun testing the waters of his new surroundings and started acting up in school again. On that particular Thursday, his uncle stood outside our home with Adam, discussing whatever Ian's teacher had said that day and offering unsolicited disciplinary advice while I was forced to entertain the aunt, who had once again made herself comfortable in my kitchen while I was making dinner. After nearly thirty minutes of conversation about Ian's transition and how much she adored our home and how she had driven around writing down numbers on homes down the street for lease (Oh God!), I asked Ian where his daddy was. Thankfully, she picked up on the hint and went outside to check on the guys. Apparently, once Adam got a word in edgewise, he was able to share his wise parental plan, which sufficiently left the whiskey-stenched uncle speechless and they left after more hugs and kisses.

After last night, we realized that there were simply too many chiefs for this one little Indian and the line had officially been trampled upon. Around 3pm, I received a call from Ian's mom, asking if I knew anything about some supposedly mandatory math night at the school. Apparently, Ian's uncle had called her after picking him up and gave her the 3rd degree about it. We had seen something on the school's billboard and heard of it vaguely, but nothing about it being required. After calling the school, Ian's mom learned it was optional and both of us got a chuckle over it. Well, that evening, a lovely friend gave me a ride home and Adam stayed up at school practicing on the flight simulators. Unfortunately for me, this meant I had to deal with the terrible twosome on my own. To my relief, their dog was violently ill at home and they dropped him at the door...but, not before reminding me about how we missed the math meeting and how they felt it was in Ian's best interest to at least do something, so they held their own math night and wrote a note to his teacher all about it. I was floored but I thanked them and wished them well with their dog, quickly procuring the boy inside. He's not actually my son, so I'd let Adam deal with it. Adam was furious as I read the note to him over the phone, giggling at the spelling of the word "excercizes".

I simply do not understand some people's lack of judgment and extreme inclination to interfere. I realize the child is not mine by blood but he does live under my roof and I care for him a great deal. Now, we have to decide how to tactfully handle this matter without causing a huge amount of drama. Thankfully, next week is Thanksgiving and Adam's only has one more Thursday night class after that, so we will no longer have the need for Thursday help, however, convincing a family member of that is most likely going to be received as an ungrateful slap in the face.
Anyone know where I can get some crime scene tape?

Clone Wars

As Adam and I were taking our sweet time to get ready for work this morning, as typical Fridays go, we didn't have time to stop for our usual coffee before I dropped him at his business complex. However, since no one was ever in my office suite on Fridays, I delivered Adam to his destination and meandered over to the Starbucks near my office. It was relatively slow, as it was just past ten, and I ordered my tall non-fat chai and a slice of iced carrot cake (Yes I realize they contradict one another) and ran through my agenda for the day as I paid for my late breakfast. A male voice interrupted my train of thought, and as I looked up from securely nestling my wallet back into my purse, I am fairly sure my reaction was something of the startling variety. A freakishly identical replica of my fiance grinned back at me and asked if I needed to be rung up. Shaking my head in disbelief and appropriately negating his question, I came back to reality in time to continue his joking line of questioning about paying twice and the current economic state. I'm sure he thought I was interested in more than just coffee and declining gas prices as I assessed his resemblance. Same meager frame, average height and facial structure. Same red hair fashioned into the exact style, light beard and even the same dark, rectangular glasses. He was even sporting an identical shirt to Adam's favorite black button down with shoulder flaps that he had picked up in the U.K. this past spring. As we continued our conversation, I realized that the only noticeable difference was the blue eyes that darted animatedly about the room and his equally expressive voice that contrasted harshly with Adam's deeper, somewhat monotone one. I concluded that he was either gay or from California yet still felt a twinge guilty for being oddly attracted to him...but that's normal, right?

In With the New...

Moving always provides the chance for a fresh start. By the time you have unpacked three suitcases and have been living out of them for the past two weeks, you wonder why exactly you need the rest of the four boxes that are still in the garage and begin to assess what is really necessary to hold onto.
Such is the same for ridding yourself of old memories affixed to the heart of past dwelling places. The beauty of relocating is that you no longer have to run by that patch of concrete that housed the etched names of you and your ex-lover, or stare at that corner of the pool where you and your supposed soulmate laid your feelings on the line over a jug of cheap chablis.
As I wrapped up the last of the dishes and sanitized every inch of space, the romantic scenes vanished one by one with the help of a little clorox clean up and some paper towels, which were immediately trashed and left behind.
My new house comes equipped with a vintage history of sorts, but it is for me to fill in the historic blanks. It's a strange transition at times, especially when you keep reaching for the toilet paper dispenser in the wrong location or dumping spaghettios leftovers down the drain that is lacking a disposal, but like every new relationship, you have to get used to to the quirks that make it unique. All I know is that the original hardwoods creak from age, and as I enter each empty room, a blank canvas just waits to be littered with renovations and future memories.