Please remind me about the important things.

I haven't blogged (I hate that word, but 'written' and 'posted' both seemed wrong) in over two years. Those two years have been, in a word, interesting.
Right now I want to say they were wasted, but they couldn't be wasted if I ultimately achieved a solution to such a big problem. In summation, I'm divorced now, and lost several other things in the process, such as my home, half of my son's time, my relationship with a few key family members, my pets, my job, my car and a few cell phones.
I gained 15 pounds (bad), my freedom (amazing), and a whole load of knowledge that, today anyway, I'd just as soon give back.
The truth hurts.
Distraction is my greatest love, other than my recent addiction to Facebook (which is, that's right, a big distraction). It keeps me just busy enough to forget what I really need to be doing. For example, today I have almost no plans, but I have a list of what I NEED to do that includes getting my name off of some government grants for single mothers list, sucking it up and finishing (ok, starting and finishing) my 20 hours of mandatory C.E. - continuing education to the layperson - to keep my certification which is up July 31, heading over to El Dorado Springs, birthplace of me, to haggle on car price, and possibly waking my son up since it's already almost 1 p.m. Oh, and showering needs to get in there somewhere.
Instead, I've gone up and down the stairs God knows how many times (exercise!) in a vain attempt to test the theory that if I start moving, I'll keep moving. So far all it's done is get a load of laundry started and cause me to stop at the doorway of my son's room each time a trip is completed, staring in wonder at the sheer damn size of the kid. He is 5'6", feet size 10, hands bigger than mine, almost 13 years old with a voice reminiscent of Barry White. Last night we compared hand size, and he won, well, handily. His hands just edged mine out in the palm-to-palm test. His hands that used to close in a fist around my finger. His hands that tore a tiny but nerve-laden skin tag off my neck when he was a baby. Those hands that now grasp a pencil and scribble out math equations while he explains to me how he knows the amount of money I will save in eight years by springing for a 2009 model car over 2008.
He has equations for everything - saving money on new cars, leveling up in games, acquiring property and other inventory in Mafia Wars. Where did he get such solid business sense? Where did he get that self-assuredness that remains well out of reach for either of his parents?
He wasn't switched at birth unless the other baby born that night had an identical tiny mark just at the base of his rib cage that we always told him meant God pinched him when we called "Hunter Lukenbill, come on down!" He has always looked like nobody but himself, but I notice as he ages that more and more people tell us we look alike.
He has never brought home a grade card with anything less than an 'A'. His teachers have always loved him. His peers swarm him. He isn't much on sports, but he's an amazing musician. He has done so well during this last year of tumult that I still wait for the ball to drop.
He isn't perfect. He is almost a teenager. He is, right this second, going through puberty. He rolls his eyes at me. He has the loudest sigh of anyone I've ever met. He argues everything I say, no matter how trivial, because I could not possibly be right. This is the time he needs me, maybe more than the first few years of his life. And this is the time that I am dropping the ball myself.
I've been in such a fog for so long I am afraid I no longer have the capability of being present in the moment. I spend my time obsessing about things that aren't worth anyone's obsession. And as I watch him sleep for the umpteenth time today, I can't help but think of the song, and maybe it's not appropriate for this situation, called "While You Were Sleeping" by Elvis Perkins. If you haven't heard that song, do yourself a favor and check it out now. There's a great version on YouTube when he performed it on David Letterman's show. I won't ruin the whole song, but this is a small sample:

Full of dreams.
You overslept.
In keeping with the quiet
Through the walls I krept.
I walked on tip-toes,
Sent darkness swirling
Over all the kitchen
In the early morning.

Uh oh
Uh oh

I`ll never catch up to you
Who sleep so sound.
My yawns are useless,
My heart beats too loud
To go to sleep,
My mind`s too proud
To bow out.

This was a blog about distraction, and look what happened. I got sidetracked.

I love you, son. I promise I will try to do better, even if it's too late.