A Christmas I will not soon forget

Believe me, I write these words mostly to myself because I need to hear them. However, I knew going in to this Christmas season that it was going to be difficult. I knew things would not feel the same without my father. Even with knowing all of those things, I was still not prepared for how raw and emotional I was (and still am) going to be. I was not prepared for how emotional my kids would be. I expected it of my Mom, even though she keeps her pain close to herself and does not often let others see.

I wanted to prepare myself. I decided that I would start my own little family tradition. On Christmas Eve it was going to be only myself and my little family. So, I decided that I would allow my children to open two gifts. One was their present from their Grandma Jan, who is their father's mother. The other was from me and part of my new tradition. I gave them each a brand new pair of pajamas.

I planned the evening out. I planned the menu. I planned the order of things. I did not plan for variables. And the variables are where things fell apart. I had to work part of the day on Christmas Eve and I had to write a final paper for my Grad school class. That adds a lot of stress. Two of my children had been battling H1N1 all week and were still recovering. Princess had been sleeping off and on most of the day, waking up between the fevers and to cough. By the time I was ready to take all of us out to the service, she came upstairs and told me that she was feeling dizzy and was so tired. She proceeded to crawl into bed. The boys and I went ahead to church.

It was lovely and I managed to keep my annoyance at their "When is this over?" questions to a very low level. It did help to hand Pumpkin-head the bulletin so he could follow the order of service. And I do think that we enjoyed ourselves. When it was over, BB said, "You know, that was not that bad. I kind of liked it."

Back at home, I woke up Princess and suggested she get in the shower while I finished putting things together for our simple, no fuss dinner of crackers and cheese. I lit the candles on my mantle and set the ambiance. It looked so nice. I went in search of my camera, which Peanut had been using earlier, and could not find it. He looked but still has such short term memory and the attention span of a housefly, he gave up quickly.

I fell apart. I may have said something to the effect of, "Well, since none of you seem to care a bit at all about helping me find this camera so we can start our family Christmas, I may as well cancel it all and go to bed." And in a flood of tears, I ran upstairs. I continued to look, tears filling my eyes til I could not see any more. And I found myself muttering unkind things involving just about every person in my family. I groaned about how a silly purple camera was ruining my plans for a sweet, family Christmas. While sitting on the floor of my closet, it hit me.

It had nothing to do with perfect plans or purple cameras. It had nothing to do with my perceptions of insensitive people who cared more about their own stuff than the needs of others. This was grief. My heart was hurting. Christmas was not going to be perfect. No amount of planning or preparation was going to fix the pain I felt. Making sure that my kids were happy and content was not going to keep them from hurting. I could not plan away the sorrow and by pretending that I could, all I was doing was shoving it under the rug and pretending that the big lump sticking up wasn't there.

What I needed...what I wanted more than anything, was to have my Dad here. I wanted to go downstairs and see him sitting in my big brown chair with Peanut curled up in that little nook by his hip while they chatted about 7 year old secrets. I wanted to be able to go down, and as much as I would hate it, I wanted to smell the cigarette butts in my trashcan. I wanted to see his mug of coffee on my table. I wanted to hear his voice as he talked to my kids. I wanted him here and he was not.

Once I realized that THIS was what all of this freak-out was about, I was able to pull myself together. I wiped away the tears and saw my silly camera sitting on the floor by my window. I went downstairs and told the kids I was sorry for yelling at them but I was better now and we could start. The rest of the evening was fine. I enjoyed watching them open their two presents more than I have ever enjoyed it. We sat together and watched a silly movie in our pajamas eating crackers and cheese. We laughed and it hit me that I had indeed created a memory, minus the meltdown.

Christmas Day...a whole other story. So, lets just say:

To be continued...

One Month

My Dad has been gone one month, today. I still cannot believe he is really gone. I find myself thinking I can call him on the phone and chat with him about my day or his. Or that I could pull in to the driveway and he will be standing in the garage at his workbench, and he will turn and wave at me. Instead, the phone is unanswered. The garage stands empty. And I am very sad. And apparently, I do really dumb things when I am this sad.

For example: I woke up with a bad headache yesterday. It didn't start as a migraine but became one later. I decided that I would start my day a little later so I took some medicine and went back to bed. But I did not call work to say that this was what I was doing. My supervisor was very frustrated with me and also probably very disappointed. She left me several voice mails asking me to explain what happened and then scheduled a meeting with me today to discuss it.

I wracked my brain all day and all night to figure out why I would do such a stupid thing. I have never done that before. It's very irresponsible and very unlike me to do that. I had no good reason for it. Until I talked to my mom and she told me it is grief. But she warned me that I need to increase my awareness of my grief and make sure that I still keep up with my responsibilities while dealing with my sadness.

On the same day, BB lost a shoe and did not get on the bus. He and I looked every where and could not find the shoe. I still have no idea where that silly shoe could be. So, I told him we would drive up to Target and get him new shoes. He really did need them but I had been asking him to wait til payday which was a mere 2 days away. My 1 hour of lateness turned into 3, thanks to a missing shoe and construction traffic.

To add to my day, I got an email from Peanut's teacher informing me that Peanut only had a juice box in his lunch and the lunch helpers had him go through the line because he would need more to eat than that. Then he said that if Peanut ever needs a lunch, just let him know and he would take care of it.

While this was very kind and sweet, I felt so silly again. I tried to explain that I am teaching my children to make their own lunches and Peanut packed his own but I did not know why he only put the juice in there. When I asked him later, he told me he just ran out of time and couldn't find anything else to put in it.

It's a training issue, not a food issue. Again, my Mom suggested that these two incidences are also signs of grief. Forgetfulness. Maybe.

I am really struggling. I am hating the fact that I have to work. I am hating the fact that my house is falling apart. The laundry is piling up. The bathrooms are natural disasters. I'm afraid that something furry is going to grow in my kitchen because I have dishes to do. I feel as if I am stuck in slow motion while the rest of the world has sped up. I fear I will never catch up.

And I wonder if people forget that I am still grieving, that it is going to take a long time for me to feel normal again, for me to wake up and not feel like crying every day, for me to not wish I could just pick up the phone and call my Dad, just to hear his voice. I am afraid I will forget what his voice sounds like. It's horribly unfair.

My kids are working through their sadness in their own ways. Pumpkin-head had some regression back to wetting the bed a few times. That seems to have stopped but he worried every night that he was going to do it again. All of them have issues with concentration and focus in school. Peanut is the one who just breaks my heart because he will ask me questions that are completely out of the blue, in my eyes.

"What if you die, Mom?"
"Is Aunt Desert Bloom dead?"
"What if Charley dies?"
"I sure do miss Grandpa."

Bless his little, 6 year old heart. He is trying so hard to grasp it all. And he is afraid. So, when he asks me questions like this, I just try to answer honestly.

Well, sweetie, we don't have a guarantee about how long we will live. But when Mommy does die, I'm going to be with Jesus in heaven, so that is a good thing. I wonder if you worry about who will take care of you? You will not be alone. Aunt Desert Bloom or the Mrs and Biker Boy will take care of you. Mom will make sure that you are taken care of.

I need to write up my will and make these plans official.

I need the world to stop for a while

I miss my Dad every day. And every day, memories of him come to mind and I swing from smiles to tears. I find it frustrating that I am grieving and yet life keeps moving forward when I need to time. I need quiet. I need rest. I need time to just cry or laugh or pour over pictures or to just BE.

If I was still painting, this is what I would paint about. I am standing still while the world spins around me in a whirl of colors, so fast I can't make anything out. I want to reach out but cannot. I'm like a top that has stopped spinning and is laying on the floor, waiting to be wound and spun again or if I cannot be wound up, I would like the rest of the world to stop moving so fast.

I find myself staring into space, lost in thought. I make myself do the ordinary tasks even though it just feels so hard and unimportant. Yet, I know that for my children, they need to see that we are OK and we can continue to live, even with this hole inside.

Tonight, Peanut asked me what he would do if I died. Poor baby. I told him that I certainly did not plan to die any time soon but he would be taken care of by Grandma, Aunt Desert Bloom, The Mrs and Biker Boy. He will not be alone. He grew very quiet after that.

The truth of the matter is that I can give him no promise of tomorrow. Only the hope that we will go live with Jesus and those who have gone before and the ones left behind will take care of each other. It's all I can promise. I wish it was more.

Grief

There is a debate that I have been reading about regarding the Stages of Grief and whether there really are stages or not. The term "stages" implies that a person should move somewhat sequentially from one stage to the other. My own experience would plant me on the opposite side of the debate. I think grieving is much more like a multi-layered pie and sometimes, you get a slice of everything inside, all at the same time.

I have had the opportunity to talk with many of my clients about the grieving process and have found that when I explain it this way, it seems to make more sense to them. I also explain that there is no time table on grief. You go through it and resolve it in however long it takes you and if someone tells you that you should be done grieving by now, they are insensitive idiots. One example I can think of for this type of insensitivity occurred with a co-worker whose father had committed suicide. At the time I met her, it had been almost 2 years. She was extremely frustrated and hurt when she requested to have the anniversary of his death off and it was denied because the supervisor told her it had been long enough and she should be "over it" by now.

In my situation, it's only been a little over a week since my father passed away and I know that I am beginning to truly grieve. The funeral is over. Family has returned home. I have returned to work and my kids are back in school. Life moves forward. However, I am finding that I am still struggling with feelings of shock and disbelief to reminiscence to missing him so much, I feel like it will always hurt.

I have trouble concentrating at work but it did get easier the second day. I did manage to get my housework done today and also to relax. Yet, when I tried to lay down and go to sleep, the sadness swept over me like a huge ocean wave. I cannot believe he is gone and I walk around feeling as if I am still dreaming the whole thing happened and that any minute, he is going to pull up in his red F150, handing out Starbursts to my kids or that I could dial my Mom's house and he will pick up the phone. The sadness comes when I realize it will never happen again.

On Thursday September 10, 2009, my father passed away unexpectedly while making his USA Today delivery. In many ways, I think it was a blessing that it was quick and that he did not suffer a long, drawn out illness. However, it was all too soon. And I am still coming to terms with the reality that he is truly gone.

His funeral was held yesterday, September 15 and my mother asked each of my sisters and I to write a tribute and then asked me to read them in the service. I was honored that she would ask this of me. The following is what I wrote and then read:



My Dad preferred to live his life in a quiet, unassuming manner. While he would be so pleased to see all of you here today, he would absolutely be embarrassed by all the fuss. And he most certainly would not like me standing here, reading these words. Not because he would not like what my sisters and I have written but because to hear one of us read it out loud would have been too much for him and he did not like anyone to see him cry. That is just the kind of man he was.

His quietness in living did not mean my Dad lacked passion. He had many passions, dreams and pursuits. At various points in his life, he fell in love with certain instruments like the banjo, the mandolin and the hammered dulcimer and proceeded to build one or two of each. He never really learned to play but he loved making them. When he fell in love with Scottish bagpipes, I half expected him to figure out a way to build his own but it isn't really a wood instrument, so we were safe. However, we were subjected to a bagpipe CD on occasion. His passions always seemed to involve woodworking or animals. He built his own wood sailboat, "The Crappie Stalker" and a beautiful wood strip canoe. I will never forget when he decided he wanted to raise miniature pot-bellied pigs because a couple friends and I spent the better part of an afternoon chasing that pig through the woods behind the house. He never did get to pursue his dream of the Llama Therapy Ranch.

His number one passion however has always been his family. He had no greater source of pride than my Mom, the three of us girls and then his grandchildren. He would do anything he could to make sure his family was taken care of.

As I have thought about my life with my Dad over my childhood and my adulthood, the memories that continue to surface are of our many camping and fishing adventures. He loved the outdoors. His girls, for the most part, did not. "Mrs. Miller" for one, hates bugs. "Desert Bloom" and I prefer quiet indoor pursuits. He liked to take us fishing, a lot. He just never seemed to understand that I really do not like fish or fishing. However, when I was 20 or so, I went on one last camping and fishing trip with him. I really just wanted to ride in his canoe and read my book. But I indulged him by throwing my line in the water. We soon learned that the lake was full of bullheads and began to catch one after the other. My Dad showed me how to get them off the hook and throw them back. But this became very annoying to me so I quit baiting my hook and still threw my line out. This did not deter the fish from biting. Eventually, the fishing was interrupting my reading so much that I just quit putting my line in. But we joked that this may not stop the fish at all, they probably would jump out of the water and find my hook anyway.

My Dad will forever by my number one hero. This trait became even more prevalent when I became a driver. For several years, I developed a certain affinity for winding up in ditches all over the state. Always, he would come and pull me out. He never made me feel silly or stupid. His first question was "Are YOU alright?"

These car rescues continued when I went off to college in Duluth. My predicaments usually occurred late at night, in sub-zero temperatures and always a couple hours from home. Nevertheless, he would get in his car or his little red truck and drive to where ever I was and fix an alternator (which he always seemed to have an extra in the garage), or a radiator hose or a battery that burst into flame with a comment like, "Well, that doesn't look good." He would let me sit in the warmth of his car or the gas station while he suffered in the bitter cold. And then I would follow him home. He was not easy to follow, it took a lot of skill and a heavy foot to keep up with him!

My biggest rescue came when my marriage ended and I needed to leave TX. My Dad, without hesitation the moment he heard the news, began to make plans for driving down to get me. My Mom only slowed him down a bit when she reminded him that 3 adults and 3 small children in car seats would not fit in their Ford Focus. From that moment on, he was the man I could count on for anything. His joke was his business was now called "Blueduck Woodcraft and Daycare". He so often took care of my kids when I was going back to school or when one of them was sick and I had to work. He would also pick them up if I couldn't. He only said No if he could not find a way to change the plans of his day.

My most cherished memories will be of him and his relationship with my children. I know he loved being a Dad to us girls and he was proud of us. But when his first grandchild came along, the pride and the love practically oozed out of every pore. I will never forget the day when Princess, who was 4 or 5 months old, and I stopped by to see him at work. He met us at the door of his unit so that HE could be the one to carry her in and introduce his granddaughter to everyone. And with the grandson's that followed, he was there when they were born or shortly after and again, it was love at first sight. Each child was a precious gift to him. We lived with my parents for 4 years and I think that moving out was hard on all of us but it was perhaps hardest on Grandpa and Peanut who had been with each other every day of Peanut's life. When it had been a few days since we had seen or talked to Grandpa, Peanut would start to cry and we would call Grandpa. They would talk on the phone for a few minutes and I know that phone call made both of their days.

I miss you, Dad. More than words can say.

Time for school!!

I love it when September rolls around. The kids go back to school and routine returns. My living room stays clean longer than 5 minutes. I love the smell of newly sharpened pencils, notebook paper and new crayons.

I am not a big fan of Meet the Teacher night. It's not that I don't want to meet the teachers who will have my children for most of the day, 5 days a week. I just don't know what to say.

"Hello, Mr. Blah-Blah-Blah...I'm TulipMom. This is my 5th grader, BB. What would you like to know? He's smart, clever, funny...He has ADHD and and IEP. He's going to challenge you for the first few weeks and make you want to rip your hair out but stay strong, stick to a routine, be firm and we will both be fine. I'm rootin' for ya...I'm sure we will be in touch soon."

"Ahhh, Mrs. So-and-S0...this is my 3rd grader, PH. He's a sweet boy. He had a rough year last year but he is over it now. He loves sports and his friends and anything Lego or Star Wars. He really is a good boy."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. First-Grade-Teacher. This is Peanut. He's a fun one. He likes to chat. In fact, he is very seldom quiet. He is funny and cute and he's my baby. But don't treat him like that. I want him to get out of acting like it. Ummm, well, I'm not real sure how things are going to go. He has a hard time sitting still. He does not always do what he is told or like to listen. But I'm sure it is going to be a great year. Really. I'm almost positive."

And for my daughter...same speech...multiple times.

"I'm Princess's Mom. She's a sweet girl. She's very quiet and needs a lot of encouragement to speak up but when she does, she has good things to say. You will enjoy her."

The other thing I love about a new school year is feeling like I get a fresh start. It's like an annual Do-over. I take some time to think about what worked last year and what did not.

These are the changes I am making this year: (It's only been two days, but so far, so good)

*Family breakfast at 7am. This ensures that everyone has eaten and is awake. I also get the chance to see everyone before I head off to work.

*The kids are making their own lunches. I grumbled so often last year about making lunches every morning. The kids grumbled about what I put in there. So, now, they know exactly what they are getting and it seems to have more value since they did the work.

*Once homework starts coming in, I want to discuss with each of them how they like to do their homework best. I sort of know already that my oldest boys do better if they can lounge on the couch. Princess does better with peace and quiet.

*Family meal planning and a posted menu. This has rejuvenated meals for me and brought back some creativity where I had grown stagnant. I was also tired of the complaints. Now the kids can look at the week and know that even if they don't like tonight's dinner, they may like tomorrow. And we gave each night a fun name: Sloppy Saturday, Special Sunday, Macaroni Monday, Taco Tuesday, Whatever Wednesday, Take It Out Thursday and Fun Friday. I have told the kids that these titles are loosely defined so that we can experiment with different things that fit the categories. Taco Tuesday could be tacos, could be gyros or enchilada's or super nachos. Whatever Wednesdays is my freebie night. Most of the year, we go to church supper and then clubs but other times we have Wednesday off, I can put "whatever" I want in that spot.

I think I have other things I am changing too but this is all I can think of at the moment. So far, these changes are good and well received. I particularly like having breakfast in the morning with my kids and starting off the day together.

I love my Do-Over/Fresh Start Fall.

I see the sun

I think this dark cloud of depression is beginning to lift. It is probably a combination of the increased dose of Zoloft, adding Vitamin D, a lot of prayer and time. I am finding it is easier to deal with the daily stresses of life. I am less irritable, less tired. I even tried to lay down for a nap last night after work and found that I actually did not need it.

I also started therapy this week but it was an intake appointment so we have not begun to work. She is working out what my official diagnosis is. Her initial feeling was dysthymia or an adjustment disorder. I looked up both and I would go along more with dysthymia which is sort of a "low-grade" ongoing depression that for me has been under control. It's chronic but not severe. This seems to fit. But I will let her discuss that more with me. Other than that, I like her a lot. I found her very easy to talk to and she was very straightforward with her methods of therapy and it is exactly what I want.

My life continues to be stressful. Financial stress always abound. I learned this week that my rent check for July bounced. I have no idea how I am going to cover that. And due to an issue with my kids uploading games to a new cell phone, my cell phone bill was much higher than planned and that too did not clear the bank and was returned. So, now my phones are cut off and I don't know how I will be able to get that resolved either. What I do know is that God is in control. This weekend, there is nothing I can do but sit tight and turn my anxiety over to the Lord.

I had a dream in which a friend came to me and told me the very same thing. The friend said, "What we do know, Tulip, is that God is in control. And that is enough." When I woke up from that, I knew it was my divine message.

So, I will enjoy this last weekend before the craziness of the first week of school starts. My work week ahead will be equally crazy. My Nurse counterpart will be out most of the week due to the death of her father so I will be picking up some of her cases for the week. I am working 3 days this week but my Thursday will be a long day as I have a client to pick up at 7:45am and my last client to see at 6:30pm. "And hours to go before I sleep..."

So, this weekend my objective is to rest and relax.

After the Fair

I think going to the Fair every other year is going to be quite alright with me. By that time, the not-so-good memories will have faded into that sweet, golden haze of reminiscence. We will have forgotten the sore feet, the stress of trying to get there, the bickering about where to go and when and who does and does not want to do what. And the internal screaming in my head about how much money was spent at the fair will have subsided or at least slipped into a softer whisper.

The things I will remember about this year's trip to the MN State Fair:

1. Riding the bus and listening to Peanut tell strangers about what he was looking forward to at the fair.

2. Buying my kids their very first Pronto Pup and watching them enjoy it.

3. Having BB ask to take my picture with my head poking out of the face of the Mona Lisa outside the Fine Arts building and enjoying the fact that it was completely his idea.

4. Cheesecurds and the noises we make while eating them.

5. Peanut driving the mini tractor at the Little Hands farm, and taking it off the approved path and then causing a traffic jam with the other little tractors. The rest of us stood laughing and called it "Bumper Tractors".

6. Princess holding Peanut's hand while crossing the streets and the moment when she looked over at me and then grabbed mine. There won't be too many times when a 12 year old girl will want to hold her mother's hand.

7. BB's one quest: to find the WCCO booth. It's his favorite station. He loves Don Shelby and the "Good Question" segment. He got to watch the weather man tape his voice over and he claims he was on TV. Who am I to steal his 15 minutes of fame?

8. Riding the bumper cars with my kids.

9. The Miracle of Life Barn. I could spend all my time there. It's my favorite. BB found his favorite calf named Charley. The boy loves cows. PH found the piglets and even got to pet his favorite one. We got to see all the fuzzy ducklings and the little peeps.

10. The sigh of relief when I found Peanut after we used the bathroom and thought he was lost. And the pride I felt when I realized that his brother PH went to look and wait for him so he would not get scared.

11. BB hugging a 6 foot inflatable Kemps cow.

12. The laughter of my children as they rode the swings in the Kidway.

13. The look of sheer delight on BB's face as he rode the Giant Slide and then his remark afterwards, "That was so fun! I guess this place is not so bad after all." (He had been feeling a little let down by what he was seeing at the Fair)

14. Watching Peanut ride the slide, absolutely stone faced but then when he hit the bottom, he stood up, grinned broadly and said, "That was so awesome!" Two years ago, when he rode that slide, he was so scared, he declared he would never ride it again.

15. As we left the fair, Peanut hit "Meltdown Mode" and was crying. PH who had bought a Whoopee cushion, inflated it and came over and said, "Will this cheer you up?" and proceeded to squeeze it. I would have laughed but Peanut just shot him a nasty glare and kept crying.

16. The feeling of relief of sitting on the bus after all that walking.

17. Making silly faces at Peanut who was sitting several seats away.

18. Eating ice cream cones on the drive home.

I feel like Eyeore

I mentioned before that August is a bad month for me. And this has been one of the toughest ones I have had in a long time. My kids, however, have done beautifully. And for that I am grateful. I am the one who feels like I am falling apart.

I have been so tired; physically and mentally. I just can't seem to get enough sleep. I have been feeling that way all summer, actually. I can find no reason to explain it. I get enough sleep. I seem to sleep well when I go to bed. Nothing has changed in that area. I just find it harder and harder to wake up in the morning. It finally did dawn on me a week or so ago. Depression.

My black cloud.

I thought I had it under control. I take an antidepressant every day. I have for about 12 years, since I developed severe post-partum depression. I have tried to take myself off of it a few times and know that when I do, it's bad for everyone because I get irritable, moody and tired. Life is just no fun. So, I decided that like my thyroid medicine, it is something I will take lifelong.

Things have just slipped downhill to the point where I cannot fix it alone. Thankfully, I do have several people in my life who are aware and watch for me. They see the signs and call me out. I kind of blew it off at first but I tucked the warning away in a corner where it could whisper to me, getting louder until I had to listen.

My breaking point found me driving to work, crying over a silly comment a friend made on my Facebook page. I know it was meant in fun but I blew it out of proportion in my head and felt hurt, then angry, followed by sadness and tears. It hit me that I was being completely irrational. I had to talk it out in order to hear it. When I heard the words come out of my mouth, I heard how irrational it was and then I could talk myself through that and get over it.

I called and got myself into my doctor. I called and set up therapy. I talked to my Mom. I know I am getting myself back on track but I still feel like I am dragging my black cloud around with me. I still feel tired. I did find out from my visit with my dentist and my doctor that I had an infected tooth that required a root canal. I got that taken care of. I also learned that I am deficient in Vitamin D which could be contributing to my increased depression. A simple supplement could take care of that, along with the bump in my antidepressant. I also learned that this crazy problem I have been having with pain in my thumb is actually something, and not just my imagination. So I have a splint to wear in order to rest my thumb and get the swelling down around the nerve because it may be a repetitive stress injury.

I fight every day to get up. I fight every day to keep myself on track financially but I struggle with feeling both apathetic and hopeless that I cannot ever manage my banking right, so why bother. I continue to feel gloomy and irritable. It does seem better, but it is very slow.

The Un-iversary

August is one month I do not look forward to for many reasons. It marks the imminent end of summer. It is usually the hottest month and I find myself suffering under the heat and humid. It also marks the anniversary of my flight from Texas, 7 years ago and then a year later to the week, my divorce after 10 years of marriage.

I thought I was doing fine this year. I was very busy in July and knew that this time was coming. I figured that awareness was the bulk of my battle. So, I was surprised last week when I found myself falling apart. I was crying over the smallest thing. I found myself oversensitive, irritable and irrational.

I guess that awareness did not prevent the emotions from rising to the surface. I did do some things differently this year however. Instead of shutting myself out and hiding from the world, I reached out to friends. And many friends reached back out to me with love and support.

So, maybe every year, I will continue to remember that Un-iversary. It slowly feels less and less painful but I think of it like a scar; I always know it's there and sometimes the old wounds ache. But I am so thankful that I have family and friends who love me and surround me, especially in those times when that scar is throbbing.

Back from vacation

What happened to July? I think I blinked twice and missed it and find myself in August.

Actually, we did a lot of fun things in July and time went by really fast. We took a family vacation, the first in several years...and the first in which no one was in diapers, pull-ups or requiring every 3-4 hour feedings. We were invited to go to Conference Point Center in Williams Point, Wisconsin on beautiful Lake Geneva for a week-long family camp. We had a truly amazing time. Rather than regale you with every little detail I thought I would share with you some of the funniest quotes from our trip:

BB who truly is a great reader but some words are new and tricky to pronounce on the first try noted that we were now passing by "Ewwww Claire and Chip-a-wee-ah Falls"

We stopped for lunch in Madison, WI at a farm where our friend's sister and her family live. It was beautiful. BB commented, "I smell cows. I know they are here somewhere."

[I should mention that he LOVES cows. He is not too fond of any other furry creature and tolerates our two feline pets but thinks cows are cool. ]

Upon discovering the cows, he remarks, "I have now seen cows up close. This is the best part of the trip."

But we haven't even gotten to camp yet, BB...

"I know. But I have seen cows and this is it. It's all I need."

As the children, who numbered 8 at this point, studied the cows, the grown-ups conversed and the subject of the cows gender came up. Chris's sister stated that all of these are steer. Nina then asked, "What is the difference between a bull and a steer?"

I said, thinking carefully because there are lots of little ears around, "Well...they are all boy cows who cannot make baby cows."

Peanut commented, "Don't the cows know that they have bugs on them?"
Mom--"Yes, but they can't really do anything about it."
BB--"That is because they don't have opposable thumbs."

Later as we pulled into camp and our feet had not even left the van, the kids exclaimed, "This is the best place ever...when we come back next year..."

At lunch one day, the kids were playing with these accordion fans and next thing I knew we were talking in Japanese accents and saying, "Perhaps you are hot...Don't make me fan you..." and then we were doing karate moves with the fans as well. It might be a moment of "You had to be there."

While on a boat ride and trolling through a very swanky marina looking at yachts, the driver noted there was a large Northern swimming below. BB and PH looked over the side and watched it. PH, resting his chin on his arm, said wistfully, "I would like to be a fish."

BB, while walking around the camp with me commented, "I think I would like to be a cow. You can walk around and poop where ever you want. You can blow snot out your nose and lick it with your tongue and no one cares. Yup, I think being a cow would be a good thing."

"Mom, lets take the short cut to our cabin." Ha!! It wound up being a tour around the windy path of the point with some steep, muddy slopes, rocks and finally a steep climb up to our cabin that took about 20 minutes. Whereas had we cut across camp, it would have taken us 5.

"We're the Gospel Fuzzies, Yeah."

While bowling, I will note that the kids had bumpers up and I did not but I still hold my title as the Gutterball Queen, the kids were laughing at my feeble attempts to bowl...I had also been playing volleyball all week and had injured my elbow...

I said, "Well, I am playing poorly so that you can all feel good about yourselves." To which my daughter looked at me, raised up an eyebrow and burst out laughing.

Good times. Good memories and we will go back next year.

Moments

I think that life is full of "moments" rather than of events or days. I can do all sorts of planning for a special day and then when the day comes, something comes along to unravel all my perfect planning. Shoes get lost, we oversleep and start late, tempers flare and I find myself gritting my teeth wondering if it is even worth the trouble.

However, over this past weekend, I did plan several BIG THINGS but the "Things Unplanned" almost got in the way. One of the things that almost blew it was an item that I purchased for myself and had not even used yet disappeared. I bought a mini cassette recorder with the intention of recording my story for the book I want to write since I keep getting stuck as I try to write. A friend suggested taping myself and then "transcribing" it as a way to get over the blocks. One one of my kids was even aware I had bought it and the other who was with when I did would not have any idea what it was. So, this narrowed down my list of plausible suspects to the two eldest children.

I was very upset by this. I needed to get it across to them that I take these breaches of security seriously and I was not going to just sit by and "take it". There was going to be a serious consequence for everyone if this item did not get found and returned to me by the end of the day. "Nobody" knew anything about it. Nobody knew where it could be and Nobody could find it. So, I said unless this tape recorder and the tapes were on my bed by the end of the day, Nobody was going to Duluth on Friday.

I had to remind them of this several times through out the day. I did not want to cancel the day trip. I was looking forward to it just as much as the kids were. It was my mini vacation as well. But a lesson needed to be learned and the consequence needed to be strict or they would not get it.

By the time I got home from work, the tape recorder was found and put on my bed. No one confessed to taking it but it was my daughter who found it. At that point, I decided I would let the guilty conscience work its magic. At some point, the guilty party is going to come clean.

We were able to enjoy a fantastic day in Duluth with my friend Beth and her two nephews. We packed a lot into just a few hours but all 6 children said it was one of their favorite days. For me, the moment I remember most was sitting on the beach, watching all 6 children running and splashing into the ice cold water and squealing with delight. I could feel the warm, soft sand under my feet. Then two of my boys came over and tried to bury my feet. It was splendid to just be there and for a brief time, not think about anything else in my life but that time with my children. Later on, we moved up the shore to the "rock beach" as we call it and I sat on a rock, looked out across Lake Superior and said to Beth, "We live in a great state." I love Minnesota.

Teachable Moments

Last week, on the last day I had with just my boys (before Princess came home from camp), someone asked a question about what particular road sign meant. I explained it and then more and more questions and discussions came up about road signs. What surprised me was the length of our conversation and how engaged the boys were in it.

As I explained signage to them a few things occurred to us about the use of color and symbols:

1. Black and Yellow signs are warnings. They tell the driver that something is going to change; a road is going to curve sharply, a road is getting narrower, cars will merge into the lane. These signs, I told the boys, mean the driver needs to pay attention to what is coming.

The question came up then about a sign that had a railroad track on one side and a black line parallel to it and then a black line cutting across it. I asked BB to tell me what he thinks it means. He figured out that it means there is a train track next to the road and then asked "But why do I care? I can see the train track."

Ahhh, young grasshopper...in daylight, yes, it's easy to see but at night or when the trees are thick, that track is hidden and then what if we decided we needed to turn. It would be good to know that there is a track there and there are no bells or road bars that come down if a train comes so a driver has to pay attention to the environment and a possible change.

"Ohhhhh. I still don't care about the train track but OK."

2. Red & White signs or Red, White and Black signs give instructions, usually in things we can't do: No Left turn, No U-turn, No Parking, Do Not Enter, Stop.

3. Green & White signs are information signs about streets. They tell the driver the street name or upcoming roads.

4. Brown & White signs give information about points of interest like museums, zoos, scenic overlooks and historical sights.

So, then one of my bright boys said, "Why do we need all these signs and colors?"

Good question!! I explained it like this, "When I am going down the road at 55 mph, I am doing a lot of different things like keeping my foot on the gas, checking my mirrors, checking my speed, watching the road and then also trying to find where I am going. I need information but I can't or don't have time to read a long paragraph such as "Oh, the road up here is going to turn sharply to the right, so you are going to need to slow down a bit and also watch for cars merging into your lane as you turn onto White Bear Avenue."

BB giggled. He got the point. "So, you need to know stuff fast."

Yup, and it has to be something everyone can figure out.

We spent the next several minutes of our trip guessing what different signs meant. I do believe that this was one of our first driving lessons. It was fun.

Why TulipMom's been gone so long...

After weeks of wandering alone and disoriented in the badlands of Mt. Washmore and the Denim Valley, a friendly face appeared. He was on horseback but when he got close to her, he dismounted. She noticed that he wore the uniform of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. She was so tired, hungry and thirsty, she didn't care that it was strange to come across a Mounty this far south of Canada. She took the canteen he offered and drank as if she had never tasted water before.

He helped her onto his horse and then climbed up behind her. She told him her tale. It started out as a simple journey, one she has made hundreds of time. She visits Mt. Washmore at least every few weeks. But this time, the trip was more treacherous on a count of some unforseen spring storms and an unreliable Sherpa named Luigi.

Never again would she hire a Sherpa from an ad on Craigslist or someone advertising a discount because they are "building up a client base and a resume" and then when asked about their education, he states he took his courses online but had mono and missed the semester where they traveled to the mountains. He assured her it was OK because he had been practicing with packs and lines in his backyard and studying his textbooks.

At the first crack of thunder and a loose boulder that looked sort of like boxer shorts with spiderman and something akin to "skid marks", Luigi ran off, shreiked like a 5 year old girl, cried, "Mommy!" and stuck his thumb in his mouth. She realized then that it wasn't a good idea to keep the map in his pack.

Over the next few days, she continued to climb Mt. Washmore and thought she reached the summit, only to discover yet another peak she had never seen before. She headed toward it and discovered it was just a mirage. This confusion threw her for a loop and as supplies dwindled she grew more disoriented. She found herself wandering further and further away from the mountains and deep in the Denim Valley.

It's a good thing she did let her friends and family know where she was going so when she did not show up for dinner, they could send for help.

It could have happened like that. Or perhaps she has been knee deep in laundry, dishes, the end of school and the start of baseball...and an over-active imagination.

Peanut

Peanut has been talking an awful lot about his Dad lately. It's a struggle for me because he has never met his Dad. He was born in MN, his Dad was in TX and two days after he was born, his Dad went to prison. These are complex issues to try to relay to a 6 year old in a way that he can understand.

I have been confused as to why this is coming up all of a sudden. I'm not afraid to talk to my children about it. I want them to come to me. I made a promise to them, in my heart, that I would be honest with them about what happened and that I would not vilify their Dad in any way that he has not already done himself. I would speak only truth, not trash talk. But honestly, that gets really hard when I see the pain on their faces and when Peanut asks me, "Why did you tell the police to come and take my Dad away? Couldn't you have not told them?"

Ugh.

Those are the moments when I pray for wisdom and the right words to come and I try to listen for the underlying questions.

Yesterday, Peanut was singing a song that went something like "It's time to go home to see your mom and your dad..."

I did not need lightning bolts or handwriting on the wall to clue me in to that one.

"Peanut, do you sing that song at school?"

"Yes. Every day before we go home."

"Does that song make you think about your Dad?"

"Yes. I don't go home and see my Dad but everyone else does."

Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.

"Awww, baby. I know it is hard to not have a dad at home. But you do have a Mom who loves you very much. You also have a Grandpa, Grandma, Auntie Desert Bloom, Auntie Mrs, Uncle Biker Boy, Great Grandma...Soooo many people love you. And you have Jesus and He is with you all the time."

"I know. I just wish I could see my Dad."

It's not that I want my kids to hate their father. I don't want them to grow up with hate in their hearts. But in all honesty, I often feel that he does not deserve their love. Other then provide half of their DNA, he is nothing in their lives but a ghost, a reminder to them that they are different. They don't have a two-parent family. They don't fit what they see on TV with father's playing catch with sons or coaching their sports teams or taking them fishing. I would hate to break it to them and tell them that their father, were he around would not be doing those things with them anyway. He would disappoint them in that area too.

He was extremely self-absorbed. To this day, when he writes to me annually on Mother's Day and my birthday (which really makes May suck, thank you very much) he refers to them not by name, individually but as "the kids" or "the kiddo's". He tries to imply an intimate relationship with them that is just not there. He does not get that. He is not here through the good and the bad. He doesn't get to celebrate the victories in their lives or hug them when they lose or miss the mark. He's not here when they are sick and fevered, vomiting all over every surface in the house. He, in my mind, has not earned the right to refer to them in a group or by a nickname.

To me, this pattern of his, that he has repeated over the last 6 years of referring to them en masse, just continues to show me that they are merely objects in his world, they are things he feels belong to him, but they are not individuals. They are not people to him. They are things.

I wish I could explain that to my children but I know that it would scar them and hurt them far worse then the fantasy father they have. At some point, when they are old enough, and I have told them this, the court order for no contact will no longer apply because they will be adults, and they can write to him and visit him if they want to. I know that should they pursue that, he will disappoint them. He will hurt them. And I will be here to catch them. I can protect them now as best I can. It's the only thing I can do.

Self Perception

The other day, a friend described me as outgoing. I was floored. This is not a word I would have ever used to describe myself. I'm an introvert. I have since learned that introverts don't NOT like people, we do, but we also need a lot of "alone time" to regroup and recharge. I have a job that requires a lot of time with people, both co-workers and clients and people in the community. And then I get home and I have 4 more little people who also require my time and energy. In order to refresh myself and get ready for the next day, I need quiet things that relax me. I scrapbook. I knit. I read. I watch some TV.

To me, an outgoing person is someone who is bubbly and always on the go, busy chatting it up with people all the time. Like my sister, The Mrs., she can talk to anyone at anytime and in fact, the more she is around people, the more energy she gets. She loves the city and the energy. I find it exhausting. I'm an introvert. She's an extrovert.

So, I asked another friend about this term "outgoing". She agreed that she would consider me outgoing but not someone who needs the spotlight or all the attention. OK. That is making more sense. That is true. I'm content to be behind the scenes. I don't need to run the show and "be seen". She also told me that I seem to be confident and comfortable with myself. Hmmmm. I like that. That is a good thing. That is something I have been striving for.

What is weird however, is that I have not seen that in myself. I sometimes still see myself as the mousy, frumpy, forever pregnant housewife who did not voice opinions, who did not rock boats, who did not speak up but did what she was asked without complaint. Is it possible then that I have changed in ways that I did not even know about?

This was good news to me. It made me feel great. I want to be seen as confident. I am proud of what I have accomplished and where I have come from. I have gone through a lot of muck and mire to get here. And it seems that this is shining through, even though I still look at myself and see the problems, the mistakes, all the things that still are not going right.

I worry that I am fake. But I think if you worry that you are fake, then you are probably not. Fake people think they are real. When I was married, I had a fake veneer. From the outside, I looked like I had it all together. I had the husband with the good job, the house in the suburbs, the cute blond kids, nice car but I was living a lie. No one knew that behind that veneer was a dark secret. Some of the secrets I did not even know about. My husband worked very hard to keep up the appearance that everything was fine while the reality was that everything was crumbling and the life we had was about to fall apart. But we were good at hiding the truth from most people. And the ones who could see something was wrong, my husband found ways to push them out of our lives.

That is why I worry about being fake. I want to be genuine. I want to be real. I want who I am on the inside to shine through to the outside. Someone I have not met in my office, but is on an email loop with me, told me she has to meet me because my email was so funny she about fell off her chair. Really? There was a time in my life when no one laughed at my jokes but me. And now a stranger tells me I am funny and a friend tells me I am outgoing. And those are two things I have always wanted to be.

The best weekend

I think what has been the best thing about my really great weekend is that I did not plan any of it. It all just sort of happened. There were moments that were far from perfect but overall, that does not diminish this weekend as being one of my favorites in a really long time.

Friday night, my family and I celebrated my birthday with ice cream at Dairy Queen. My oldest 3 children spent that time entertaining their aunt: Desert Bloom with various jokes and silly stories. I sat with my parents and Peanut and just enjoyed my ice cream and opening some presents. That is always fun. I like presents. One gift from my sister was a slinky and I knew that I would not get to play with that gift.

On Saturday, we spent the afternoon at the pool. We just splashed and relaxed. The kids have been waiting for the pool to open since...well...since it closed last summer. I enjoyed watching Peanut swimming around like a fish, diving in the water, jumping and just enjoying himself. Princess was born with gills and apparently when water hits them, her ears close and she cannot hear the outside world. It took 5 minutes of calling her name and then her brother chasing her all around the pool in order to get her attention and tell her it was time to go.

I think Sunday was my favorite day of all. After church, we went on a picnic to Elm Creek Park Reserve and joined 3 other families. The kids played for hours while the adults chatted and laughed.

BB however had it determined in his head that this event should last only about 45 minutes and he wanted to go back home so that he could go to his friend J's house. I warned him that he should not make plans without consulting me and I told him that the times he gave his friend were not accurate. I also told him I did not want him to spend the afternoon asking me if it was time to go.

I refused to look at the clock but when I did, it was 5pm. And this sent him through the roof. He began to pitch a fit. It was quiet at first but when I did not respond, he increased the intensity and pretty soon, he was banging into me. In a way, I was glad that some of my friends saw him act this way because for the most part, he only does this at home. I also wanted him to realize that he does not always get his way and he does not get to control everything because of his notions of how long things should take. I refused to look at my cell phone for the time because I did not want him to be focused on the time.

He did wind up missing the chance to go play with his friend because it was almost 7 by the time we got home. He was mad but he did calm himself down. And he did so in a manner that was a tremendous improvement over previous disappointments. He grumbled and he was owly with us but he did not strike out at anyone. He did no destruction and he eventually got himself calmed down to the point that he was able to enjoy swimming and a funny movie in the evening.

I think we ended on that high note.

You can ground me if you want to....

If I had not been so STEAMING mad, these words coming out of my 12 year old's mouth would have made me laugh until my sides ached. In the moment however, they only made me more angry.

Oh you are grounded, young lady. Count on it.

"For how long?"

I haven't figured that out yet. I'm still to mad to think straight but I will let you know.

I don't know if I have ever mentioned my alter ego, Yolanda on my blog before. She started out as a joke when I had a land-line and I asked to have my number unpublished. My phone number would show up on caller ID's as "Yolanda..." somebody. My Mom started calling me Yolanda and we would giggle. Then my friend KMB told me about his hulk moments with his kids. I believe he told me that his kids were probably wondering if he had turned back into Bruce Banner yet. I thought that was hilarious. So, then we started looking up the She-hulk but she apparently stayed in her green hulk form and became more of a lawyer type for the justice league. So, my alter ego Yolanda was born. When my kids get me really mad, and it takes a lot, Yolanda comes to visit with her foot a stompin' and her gum a snappin' and her loud voice telling the children, "Oh no you di'int..."

Yolanda came over last night. The living room becomes a real sore spot for me. And I had reached my threshold of Mess Tolerance. I told the kids to start picking up and not one of them looked me in the eye or stopped what they were doing. When I mentioned this, Princess said, "I am listening, Mom"

Well, it does not seem like it. You are not looking at me. You are not moving in a direction that would show me you have any intention of doing what I ask. Your brothers are continuing to play their video game. Nobody is moving. Therefore, no one is listening.

"But I AM listening."

Ding dong....Yolanda walks in and takes charge. Feet are scrambling, arms are flying and butts are moving. However, my kids have this tendency to "disappear" upstairs or into the bathroom for long periods of time. I called them on that and got nothing but flak for it. Flak and a whole lot of attitude.

The boys were busy cleaning under Yolanda's watchful eye and foot tapping. But Princess disappeared. Yolanda called up. No answer. She called again. Nothing. At this point, I went upstairs for the first time since I left for work.

When I got up there, I screamed. There was laundry, clean and dirty spread all over the floor in the hall and the boys room. Upturned laundry baskets all over the place and the door to Princess and my room was shut tight.

"Giiiiirrrrrrrrlllll....You better open that door right now... And answer me."

Nothing. I opened the door and there is Princess laying face down on MY bed. Ignoring me.

"I have been calling you over and over. You have not answered. Get up NOW."

She refused again.

"Get up NOW."

She stood up and said, "I'm tired of the boys being mean to me. You can ground me if you want to."

"We have another issue here. Right now, the issue is not your brothers being mean. The issue is your obedience. You were told, as was everyone else, that everyone works on the living room until it is done. I have called you and called you and you have ignored me. This is a big problem. And yes, you are grounded. But you still have to go down stairs and clean up the living room."

She muttered something about things not being fair and walked out of the room. Yolanda marched down after her.

"No one says a word about things being unfair. Do you understand me? This is not about fairness. You are talking to the wrong person about what is fair and what is not fair. Life is not ever going to be completely fair. You have to learn to deal with things the way they are. So, each one of you will get this living room clean. I will be sorting through the tornado that blew through upstairs and I don't want to hear an argument, a peep or anything remotely related to a squeak about who is doing what or not...DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"

My living room is clean. For now. It took me an hour to sort through the laundry mess upstairs. Yolanda left until she is needed again. Princess will be grounded. I need to come up with a fair amount for her sauciness and disobedience.

Another candle on the cake...

I don't recommend lighting 38 candles. Not without warning the fire department in advance and taking all other proper precautions. All kidding aside, I do not dread this birthday. Even with the supposedly dreaded BIG 4-0 looming around the corner. I have earned every hour, day, week and month of this year. The laugh lines emerging around my eyes...they are from laughing. I have very few frown lines because I don't frown for long. I have had a tough year but looking back, I see that it is just part of my journey. And for that, I feel like celebrating!

What I have learned between the year of 37 and 38:

1. Life is unpredictable. Tornadoes can blow through your neighborhood. You can watch a client go through the devastation of losing everything in a house fire. The government can garnish your wages for a tax issue that turns out to be a mistake and while the money will be refunded...it is not returned as quickly as it was taken.

My take home lessons from these observations: Get renter's insurance. Improve my filing and save everything financial. Don't give up, even if you are in the wrong, ask the questions and get the answers. You may be surprised!

2. Children really change a lot in a year. Last summer, I could not trust my kids to be alone for more than an hour tops and even then they managed to find trouble. This lead to a couple visits from the Sheriff's department, a couple phone calls from Social Services and a tiny blurb about an escapade on the roof in the newspaper. Throughout the year, each of my children has shown increased maturity. Princess does an excellent job keeping track of Peanut. She is also learning how to cook and can make simple dinners or lunches. With the exception of Peanut, the kids can manage being home if they are sick without a Hover Mother and they know they can reach me by cell or text.

My take home lessons from these experiences: Babysitting class for Princess. Clear rules about where the kids can and cannot play. Safety rules like keeping the doors locked and the garage shut, don't answer the door and sticking together when they do play outside. I also talked a lot about how we are a family and we are to look out for each other because that is what families do. A big key is COMMUNICATION.

3. Managing a family is hard. Duh. So, not only do I have my job but now I have children in elementary and middle school. There are school parties, youth group activities, projects, projects and more projects. Add in to that basketball practice and games, baseball practice and games, concerts and conferences, and lots and lots of doctor appointments.

Take home lesson: Calendar!! We have also learned that we can't say yes to everything and sometimes we have to choose.

4. Money is a tool but without good management skills, it is a monster.

Take home lesson: seek wise counsel. Diligence, patience and hard work.

5. Enjoy the sunshine, the laughter and embrace the silly now and then.

Saturday Stuff

I love Saturdays. It is probably my favorite day of the week. Even if I spend a bit of time doing my least favorite activities revolving around housework, I still enjoy Saturday.

Today, I went to my Weight Watcher's meeting and decided that my number is not moving in the right direction. I need to get myself excited again. My daughter wants to go on walks with me. So, I decided that when I got home, we would take a walk. I did not factor in that it was so cold! However, that did not deter us. My now 8 year old PH, had a new razor scooter that he wanted to try out. BB grabbed his bike, Princess pulled Peanut in the wagon and we walked. I grabbed my camera, just in case I found photo worthy opportunities. With kids, I always do.

We walked over towards this area that has these drainage ponds. BB told me he saw a fish and thought it was a Muskie. I laughed and then told him that the water is not deep enough for Muskie but there may be Crappies or Bullhead's in there.

I really enjoyed watching the kids running back and forth between two ponds that are connected by two large concrete pipes. They figured out these make excellent communication devices so one would lie down at one end and then another would lie down at the other and they would call back and forth or sing a song to each other. Then PH got the idea of spitting into the water and running back to watch it come out the other side.

My favorite moment was when BB, with his hood pulled around his face, his cheeks rosy from the wind, smiling broadly, said, "This is starting out to be a really good day."

Some days, I look at him, remembering back just 6 months ago when he was pitching fits, hitting me, destroying lamps, and I can hardly believe this is the same boy. Something has change in him. I don't know what it is. I don't know when it happened but this child is happy. And it is fantastic! To see this, it makes everything worth it. We both learned a lot and have grown and changed.

Yesterday, it was PH's 8th birthday and we were driving over to Grandma's for a party. The kids were excited and were bouncing, literally, out of their seats. I was telling them all to buckle up and BB starts to repeat everything I say. I said, "I don't need a chorus."

BB suddenly breaks into song, "Happy...birthday....happy...happy...birthday...." It was so cute, I started laughing silently and he says, "Mom, why are you bouncing?"

At that point, I just burst out laughing. The tension was broken. That's my funny, bright boy.

Amazed...

Last summer, I was struggling with having my 3 boys in one room. It was a constant battle every night to get them to settle down. I was exhausted because I did not get to bed before midnight for months. I don't remember exactly when the idea came to me, it was truly a God-inspired insight, but one night I had had enough and I suggested to BB that he just go sleep on the couch. Almost immediately, everyone fell asleep. So, he did it again the next night and again everyone fell asleep. I was able to get to bed around 10. This went on for over a week. I noticed a remarkable change in everyone.

So, I discussed it with BB and we decided that he could continue to sleep on the couch as long as he wants to. The livingroom, at night, would essentially be his bedroom. It was not ideal. I had to give up that space and the area so that I could relax there as well but it was worth it for the peace of mind, and the rest I was able to get.

BB and I discussed that he would always have the option to sleep in his own bed. I even put in a loft for him. He tried it one night but then went back down to the couch.

This week, he has started sleeping his own bed, of his own volition. I tried not to make it a big deal but I did ask him this morning why he was sleeping up there. He just kind of shrugged. I smiled at him and said, "It's comfortable up there, isn't it? Maybe we can put the sheets back on and make it real cozy." He smiled at me.

Something is changing in that boy and I like it alot.

Sometimes...you just gotta let go

It happened one day when I watched BB swing across the monkey bars and then he started climbing across the top. I wanted to jump out of my chair and tell him, "Get down before you fall and get hurt..." and I imagined him falling on his face, blood pouring out of numerous scrapes and white bones poking out of every limb.

It took everything I had within me to sit in my chair and cheer, "Good job, BB! Way to go! Look at you!!"

I know that if I had told him he could get hurt and then demanded he get down, he would have done one of two things: climbed back down, pouting and feeling embarrassed perhaps he would be more cautious and fearful the next time or he could have continued on as he was with more determination and next time upping the ante, doing more and more outrageous stunts just to prove me wrong.

I had to let go. I had to let him try. He finished climbing across the top of the monkey bars that day. He did it many more times that summer. He never fell. He never did fall or even so much as break open a blister. And the grin on his face told me he was proud of his accomplishment.

It's happened at other times too and with the other kids. They each learned how to ride a bike. I left the training wheels on until I saw confidence growing and the the training wheels were not actually touching the ground any longer and then I took them off. BB hopped on his bike, wobbled for a bit and the took off like a rocket. He fell often, usually when trying to stop and would comment, "Wow! I'm biking but I think I need to work some more on my landing!"

Princess could not be left behind, so she saw BB riding and she asked me to take her trainers off too. Next thing I knew, she was riding up and down the street with a grin on her face. I never did the "hold on to the back of the bike and some times let go..." thing. But I had emotionally hands on the back of that bike. I bit my tongue and the inside of my cheek as I watched them round the curves and almost wipe out. I cried the first time one of them scraped up their knee. But I learned to let go. They learned to be confident and try things.

Today was another opportunity for me to let go. The funny thing is that I did not plan it. Maybe that is the best way. On Thursdays, I work until 7pm. Princess babysits Peanut from 5:30 until 7:30. She is learning to cook so she also makes her brothers dinner. Sometimes.

I got home tonight and there was not a kid to be found. I did start to panic a little but then I saw that Princess wrote a note:

"Went to sience fair at boys school from 6pm to 8pm We rode bikes. "

The spelling made me laugh.

Then I looked around the kitchen and saw the remnants of dinner. And I saw the cell phone plugged in. I put the pieces together and knew that she had tried to call me while I was in a meeting but had not left me a message. We will work on that. But she left me a note. She told me where they were and when they would be back. She made dinner and they were all together.

I fought the urge to drive over to the school and chew them out. Obviously this was something they felt was important. I needed to let go.

And they all came back. They were happy. They were safe.

I did feel a bit like a chump when I realized that this was THE Science and Arts Fair...and I should have gone. I just did not know. And selfishly, I was enjoying the peace and quiet.

For next time, I do want her to leave me a message on my voicemail and we need to make sure that cell phone is charged AND turned on.

A difference between boys and girls...

I should have known. Boys are very different from girls. I don't buy into the whole "Nature vs. Nurture" debate. My boys came out of the womb acting like boys and my daughter came out acting very much like a girl, with the exception of her love for matchbox cars but note that she would line them up in long lines while wearing her prettiest, girliest dress.

I think I mentioned before that my friend gave me the idea of using a notebook as a way to keep the communication channels open between my Tween daughter and I. She and I bot love it. We have a secret way of letting each other know that we have written each other a note. She gets the chance to express some of her hurts and pains and I get to peer into her heart and try to understand what life feels like for her right now and then encourage her.

My 10 year old is struggling with the area of communication as well. He does not always do well handling feelings. He has made great improvement and I have been making a point of telling him the things I am seeing. But I thought perhaps this secret notebook would be a good idea for him too. He was very receptive to the idea. So, I showed him the notebook I bought and asked him to give me an idea about where we could put it so that we would both know how to find it.

He did say, and I was astounded that he came up with this,"Well, I don't know what would be a good place because I am not so good at remembering where I put things." This is very insightful for him. This is one of his struggles. I think having a spot for him to go to for this notebook will be beneficial in developing this skill. A bonus! However, he did locate a good spot that is visible yet not a place that others in the house will necessarily thing to dig around in.

He took the notebook and immediately wrote me a note. I really had to giggle. I will not make it a habit of sharing what he writes because that will violate the rule about privacy but he did not write anything deeply personal. Instead, he wrote a commercial plug that went something like this:

Dear Mom,

I need to renew the Lego magazine. This is the last issue. I really love this magazine. But you know that what I really want is the Lego Brickmaster magazine. You know the one that also sends out special lego kits. I got one for my birthday and it was great.

Love,
BB

Dear BB,

I know you love that magazine and have read it cover to cover several times each time you get an issue in the mail. We can certainly renew it. How much does the Brickmaster cost?

Love,
Mom

Dear Mom,

Don't you think that it would be well worth $39.95 for a year's worth of not only the magazine but also the lego kits. This is a special price and a value of over $70!!!! I would really love this. Would you help me get this?

Love,
BB

I laughed so hard when I read this. He is so funny. It is making me think that there is perhaps some room to negotiate here and figure out a way to work with him so that he can earn this.

The difference between boys and girls...no talk about feelings or how the day went or what frustrated him or any lines like his sister writes "Why is growing up so hard?"...but a sale's pitch!

Speaking only for myself

I can't speak for "all" single parents...just me. But today, I feel extremely taken for granted. It could be that I am stressed and things are piling up on top of me and more things are just "getting to me" and irritating me. And perhaps I am expecting too much from my children. It would be nice for them to "Rise up and call me blessed" now and then and even say "Thanks for making my lunch every day. You do a really great job." As opposed to the typical, "How come I don't get ....(Insert junk food items)like so and so?"

Sometimes it would be really nice to have someone, a grown up someone, around to help pick up the slack a little. This sounds really whiny. I just feel tired and worn out from doing the same thing, day after day... same battles, same arguments, same lectures and very little change.

In fact, this morning, I lost it. I went downstairs to find that 3 of my children were sleeping in the livingroom and that made me mad because I had told two of them who know they are supposed to sleep upstairs that they are not to sneak downstairs. The living room, at night, is essentially BB's bedroom. Then as I am scrambling to get Princess's lunch together, she says from the chair, "Mom, what time is it?"

Excuse me?!? Get up and look at the clock...I'm busy making your lunch. And while you are at it, grab the cheese and make your sandwich.

"But where are the bags?"

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

This is the same daughter who is getting cooking lessons from my friend April and is learning how to use knives to chop onions, how to make a tasty white sauce and how to cook rice and she can't find the lunch bags?

The kitchen is a mess. The living room is a mess. Someone ate my yogurt again, after I tied it up in a plastic bag, put it in a box, tucked it in the back of the fridge behind the potatos. And suddenly "Nobody" knows who ate it. BB, who has a tendency to speak without thinking says to me, "Well, if you would have given us breakfast, then we would not have to eat the yogurt."

What?!? Tell me you did NOT just say that to me? I pay Jenny to watch you in the morning and give you breakfast. What you have done by eating the yogurt is eaten MY breakfast and I bought enough to last until next payday and now there is not enough. If you do not eat breakfast, how is that my fault?

Then he denied he said it. The fire is stoking and starting to blaze. I'm not proud of this. But I got really mad. And then BB covers his head with a blanket.

Look at me when I am talking to you.

"I've already heard this before."

Apparently, you have not heard it enough because you still don't do what I ask you to do and keep doing what I tell you not to do. So, listen again. And when you talk to me like that, so rudely, I get so frustrated I would like to throw a pillow at you.

He looked up at me and blinked in disbelief.

I did not say I would. I only said that is what I feel like doing. There is a difference. But that is how angry and hurt I am right now by your attitude and behavior.

I then went upstairs to take a shower and I cried through the whole thing. I'm just tired. My life is hard. Some days, it just gets to me. Today was one of those days. And I feel very alone in moments like this. I try to be angry with my ex-husband and make it all his fault for putting me in this position. But the reality is that even when I was married, I was alone. I was still essentially carrying the burden of parenting by myself. I just sometimes had another adult in the room. It is not fair. It stinks. But that is the way it is. I think it is OK to acknowledge those feelings now and then...to look at them, recognize that they are there and then put them away again knowing it does not change anything. But the feelings are real. The hurt is real. Injustice is real. So, I visit that spot sometimes but I don't unroll my sleeping bag and sleep there.

That is the day I am having. I'm looking at the unfairness in my life. I admit it stinks. I wish it was different. I pray that it will be someday. And I feel sad, grieve a little and then pack my things and get out of there.

Updates and other matters

We are currently a cable free but fully digital TV family. My kids did lament that we do not have any cartoon channels. I, however, am not lamenting. I am happy to save money on cable and I also realized that there were really only a handfull of channels that I watch on a regular basis, so why pay for all those other ones that I don't watch. It does not make sense. And my kids will learn to live without Nickelodeon and Cartoon Network.

PH's health is greatly improved. His personality has returned. I knew he had turned a corner when he started getting into trouble and being naughty again. I did not miss that so much but I had missed the other facets of him like his energy, infectious and musical laughter and funny jokes. He has another doctor appointment this week, so I am curious to see how much more weight he has gained since the last one.

BB has made me quite proud with his improvements too. He has a big project he is working on. He had to pick one state to research and had all sorts of things to do around that state. I was floored when he told me that he wanted to get his "State Float" done early. This is so unusual for him. He is usually pushing the limits and deadlines. It would not be unheard of for him to tell me that something huge is due in two days and then we are scrambling to get it done. It really was HUGE for him to want to get it done early and then he did the work himself with the exception of some creative input from me.

Peanut is sounding out words and is on the verge of reading. He is doing it so much that BB told him, "Stop sounding things out!" I, on the other hand, am enjoying listening to him sound out, "kuh kuh kuh- ihhh ihhh ihhh-du du...KID!!"

Princess is feeling the stress of much homework, impending deadlines and pre-teen angst of having too many younger brothers. She is tired and a little crabby these days. Tonight, she sat in the kitchen, staring at the door of the fridge, unable to get started on anything because it was all too much. And then she continued to grow agitated the PH and Peanut kept running in and out of the house, breaking her concentration.

The fun never ends. I'm anxious for school to be out. We all need a break.

Playstation Predicament Continuing Saga

I got a call from my oldest son yesterday. He informed me that the Playstation was now working but the TV was not. And according to him, he had tried everything. And then his voice became completely unintelligible because he could not possibly wait the hour or so until I was going to get home.

He was right. The TV does not work. I don't know what happened to it. Electronics baffle me. I can use them but I don't program them, take them apart to understand the inner workings or anything else. And quite frankly, I don't care to. There are other people in this world who like that sort of thing and I am perfectly content to find them.

I moved the upstairs TV back down and all evening the kids said, "I am just not used to the mini-TV." It's a 20". How is that mini? They are funny. I was sad to move that TV because I had become sort of accustomed to having a TV upstairs in my little corner where I have my computer and my scrapbooking stuff. So, I started planning that perhaps with potential birthday gifts coming up in the next month, I should look at replacing it.

However, today, my youngest sister reminded me that my parents recently got a new TV and now had an extra one that they were no longer using and that perhaps this would be a good one to use for the video games and to watch movies on. Absolutely brilliant! I called my Dad to see if they still had it, and if so, could I take it off their hands? The answers to both questions was Yes!!

And I can continue my pattern of staying behind the crowd, waving at the technology bandwagon as it goes by, catching on to things much later when the kinks and bugs are worked out and the prices come down. I'm not a bleeding-edge kind of gal.

The Plight of the Pitiful Playstation

It was bound to happen sooner or later. I warned them. I scolded even.

Do not bring beverage cups into the living room.
Do not set cups of liquid on the floor.
Keep the Playstation off the floor.
Keep your video games in their cases.

And repeat. Repeat. Repeat. ad nauseum.

This week it did.

I was upstairs when I heard a roar followed by a yell. Then weeping and gnashing of teeth. And then BB screamed, "Peanut, I will NEVER speak to you EVER again."

A certain boy, the smallest of the 3, knocked over the forbidden cup of water, splashing it into the very end of the playstation that would be the worst end to get water splashed into. And now the PS2 no longer works. The eldest two boys have tried every day, to see if the electronics have dried out and function will return to their machine.

BB declared, "Well, if it does not work by Friday, then it will never work again." He said it with such conviction, as if he has had previous experience.

Yesterday, he said, "Mom, I am reading here in the Playstation manual that the PS2 should NEVER be submerged in water."

I have to chuckle silently in my head. They are having a hard time with this. I was afraid they would go into convulsions from their video game withdrawal. Instead, they adapted and have gone over to the babysitter's every afternoon to play on her Playstation until I get off work.

At least it is time limited.

This morning, PH said to me, "Mom, what are we going to do tonight when we have to go home from Jenny's and we are waiting for you to come home?"

Well, the weather is going to be gorgeous. You can play outside. Go to the park. Draw pictures. Play with your legos. Watch a movie on the upstairs DVD player.

I loved his answer, "I think that I will spend some time reading my Bible. I'm already on page 6."

How can I argue with that?

All you ever say...

PH started saying this one day last week, "Mom, all you ever say to us is 'Pick up the living room'. "

Ha ha. Very funny.

Maybe it's a little true. I do seem to say it an awful lot lately. I think it is because this is becoming my Biggest Pet Peeve. Ever. If it was just a little untidiness, I could handle it. But it isn't. Daily, and I am not taking creative liberties of exaggeration here, I find wrappers, crusts of bread, icky cups of sour, curdled milk, lego's, blankets, pillows, Playstation 2 games and dirty socks strewn about. If these things are not strewn about, then they are shoved between the couch and love seat on top of my end table. It is enough to drive me completely out of my mind.

Wouldn't you think it would be easier to just carry your trash to the garbage can that is 3 feet away? Wouldn't it be easier to carry your dishes (which are NOT supposed to be in the living room anyway) into the kitchen rather than setting them where ever? Wouldn't you get tired of being scolded every day for the same thing?

I would be. But then, I am a girl. I don't like being scolded. I don't like voices being raised. When voices raise, I panic and start to cry and get very upset and I will do anything to make things right again. My daughter is the same way.

My boys are not. They are from a different planet. And apparently on that planet, it's perfectly OK to be pigs. Well, welcome to earth and more specifically Tulip's house...It's not OK to be pigs. And until they start picking up their messes all they will hear me say is "Pick up the living room...throw away your garbage...put your dishes in the sink...quit eating in the living room...take your dirty, stinky socks up to the laundry...and wash your hands...Flush the toilet..."

Get used to it.

More Unsolved Mysteries

Why is there a ziplock bag of baby carrots in my freezer?
I did not place them there, nor would I do so. Peanut was "feeding" carrots to his new stuffed bunny "Checkers"...I suspect he wanted to try Carrot-pops.

Writing on the wall:
In the garage, one day the word "poop" appeared in 2 foot letters and yellow chalk. Another wall showcases the word "idiot". I'm sure that No One Knows who did it.
Someone drew a little cartoon scene on the wall just above the baseboards, behind the couch. That takes talent and serious ambition or a strong desire to NOT get caught.
I do know that BB wrote "I hate you" on the wall last fall when he was in one of his funks and really, mad at me. I figured it was some sort of progress from the day he wrote a note to Grandma and told her "I hat you". His spelling has improved.

Rubber lizards on my ceiling. I was finally able to change the lightbulb in my ceiling light at the peak of the vault and the critters were removed. However, I kind of miss them. There were up there for a year. I will console myself with the little rubber man that is stuck on the wall in my dining room.

I think it is sort of like fingerprints on windows... they are reminders that children live here but will soon grow up all too fast. For now, I am OK with these mysteries. One day, they will be painted over. But for now, they speak to me of childhood.

Blessings

I should never be surprised by miracles. My life has been full of miracles. Yet, somehow, when they come, I am always caught off guard and sit back stunned and think to myself, "The Lord did it again...He surprised me, He supplied my needs."

For example, I have a wedding I am attending in a few weeks. I don't have the money to buy a new dress but I have a lovely spring suit I bought a few years ago that I have only worn once or twice. The only thing I need is some sort of a blouse or camisole to go under the jacket, since I did tell one of my friends that I am not prepared to "showcase the girls". I'm far too modest. That is a good thing.

On Saturday, my mom was cleaning out her closet and showed a few things to me that I could have if they fit. I did find some satisfaction in the knowledge that things were too big for me. However, she did have one sleeveless, cream colored blouse that would go perfectly with my suit. And it fit. Now I don't need a blouse.

I am going through this Crown Financial class through my church and on Saturday is my weekly class. We do prayer requests every week and pray for each other through the week. Part of our preparation is to write out our prayer requests before we come. My brakes were just starting to make funny noises. I tried topping off the fluid but the noise was still present. So, I brought this up because I do not have the money to pay for the brakes.

Today, I am sitting outside a house where two men from my class are working on my van and fixing my brakes. One side of one brake was grinding shiny metal to metal.

I am so blessed.

Life with a Pre-teen...The Saga Begins

And so does the drama. Which, according to my family, drama is something my dear daughter comes by honestly. I try to huff and be offended but it's true. I was a teenage drama queen. I created my fair share of Angry scenes and Important Declarations about just how dorky and out of touch my family was and how they could not possibly know anything about how I was feeling...In. This. Very. Moment.

Now that I am a mother of a 12 year old, and a little more experienced with life, I know that my parents were not quite the dorks I thought they were, nor were they that unfamiliar with how things in my life were changing. I standing in that place myself. At this present moment, my kids think I'm pretty OK. But my daughter is listening to what I say and is telling me that I embarrass her. And I learned this weekend, I can also make her very hurt and angry.

The incident that sparked this particular revelation revolved around getting our bedroom clean. It was to the point where I could not tolerate the clutter and the creeping mess any longer. This was going to be taken care of this weekend. I told her of my plan on Friday night. I reminded her on Saturday morning and even gave her fair warning about when I was going to be ready to get started. I asked her to come up with me and I gave her a job to start with while I put some laundry away because I needed the laundry baskets...

She did that job and did it well. And then disappeared. I saw her and her brother playing in the woods. I worked on my area of the room. I put away all my clean clothes, cleaned out the junk that seems to infiltrate the crevices and open spaces under my bed, night stand and the edge of my dresser. I even pulled off my sheets and flipped my mattress.

After lunch, I told her she needed to come back up and help. She wandered up and again stayed for only a few minutes. I decided I would provide us some entertainment so I even found a way to turn the upstairs TV so that it would face our room. I went down to find her, and she had fallen asleep. Apparently, she had been a participant in the overnight video game party with her brothers after all. So, I let her sleep and determined that if she was not going to participate in this clean and purge event, that was to her loss. She had had an opportunity several weeks prior to clean up her mess, organize, set some precious things aside and all she did was shove things around. This was getting done today.

I worked hard. I pulled everything out from under her lofted bed and sorted and organized. I put some of the toys and items she never plays with anymore, but I dare not throw, and put them in the storage container. Anything that looked broken or like crumpled up trash, I tossed. I wound up with one huge lawn bag full of garbage and several smaller bags full. When it was all done, I was very pleased with how it looked. She can sit under her bed and pull books out of the little cubbies she has under there. You can see her pink fuzzy rug again.

I woke her up and she was not happy about that because she was still tired. But I did not want her sleeping the entire day away or she would have trouble sleeping at night. I told her to go and check out our room.

I proceeded to get dinner ready and get ready for a class I attend on Saturday nights. She was pouting about something one of her brothers did and I told her to leave the table until she could join us with a more appropriate attitude. She never came back down.

When I went upstairs to finish getting ready, she was in our room and I asked her what she thought. She yelled at me, "You threw away things I was saving. And I don't know what to do with this stuff YOU put on my bed."

Whoa, girl. Them's fightin' words.

For your information, daughter, I spent my entire day cleaning this room. I did not throw everything away. Some things are put up. I asked and asked you to come up and work with me but you kept disappearing and I was not going to wait for you. The fact of the matter is that I have been asking your for a long time to get this clutter under control and you have not. You have had fair warning that this would happen. And honestly, if I see your part of our room get like this again, I will do the same thing again. So, you need to learn to take better care of your stuff and put it away so that it is clear it is something sentimental but shoving papers under your bed and my bed is not showing me these are things you care about.

At this point, she quit looking at me and sat, stewing under her bed, ignoring me. Then she handed me a note, written in purple crayon:

"Dear Mom
How would you like it if someone came in and threw out your dreams and Ideas for when you want a good job and that person had nothing. no job No house and no life. Because every thing that I had built from scratch and that you threw away was my chance of life and you threw my life away -Princess"

Honestly, when she handed me the note, I had to fight off a giggle. She was very sincere and earnest. I felt awful in giggling. She was just so cute. And so dramatic.

I was bothered by her feeling so hurt. But at the same time, I also figured I was teaching her a tough lesson. I remember my own mom teaching me hard lessons too...especially about possessions and room cleaning. I don't think my mom ever went through and tossed things but I do remember a few Saturdays when she went through the room I shared with my sisters and pulled out everything we had been stuffing into crevices, corners and closets and threw it into the center of the room. Our job was to put everything away and we could not come out until we finished.

I do think that my parents would get rid of things we left out and did not put away. As I thought about it, I do not think I was unreasonable or out of line. I did need to deal with the hurt she was feeling about it. So maybe my method was harsher than I intended. She is a sensitive girl. My Mom told me today, when I described it to her, that it is not that what I did was wrong or out of line but perhaps that these were things she just did not want to let go of and was not mentally prepared to do so yet.

I also talked with my friend Elizabeth ( Thanks :-)!) and she suggested that I start a shared journal with Princess. Then she and I can continue to communicate privately and keep that door open. Plus she will have the journal for as long as she wants it. I think this is an excellent idea. I talked to Princess about it and she really liked the idea. So, I found a notebook that I had not started using. I decorated the cover and made it girly and we designated a special drawer for it.

I'm keeping the purple note too.