This week I had one of those moments when I realized that once again, things are changing in my household, in one of my children and in my role as the Mom. I was caught off-guard and thus was unprepared for the emotional upheaval it caused me.
I have been a Mom for 12 years...closer to 13 if you count the months I was pregnant. And in those 12+ years I have taken care of the health and well-being of my children. I fill out the papers and "surveys" at the doctor's office. I schedule appointments for physicals, vision checks, surgeries and last minute "someone got a rock lodged in their forehead" appointments. I will admit, it is crazy keeping track of who needs what when but I am so grateful for tools like electronic records and proxy access that allow me to schedule appointments online, check on immunizations and print them off. I have a calendar at home that I use a color-code system to keep track of every one's appointments and activities. I have it down to a fairly, well-tuned art. (I am not perfect so it does break down or I do from time to time, lest you think I never make mistakes. Ask my daughter about the day I told her that I would pick her up at school for her physical and it was at the end of the day, apparently it was also on Homecoming and all of the high school kids were released early and flooded the middle school to pick up younger siblings and take them downtown to watch the parade. I could not see my daughter in this huge mob of black and orange teenagers, yelling out at the top of their lungs. I figured she forgot and got on the bus, so I took her younger brother and we went to his appointment. However, she was sitting patiently in the office, waiting for me. Poor girl. I probably scarred her for life.
Now that my daughter is 12, this physical would be her first adolescent exam. I was worried she would be embarrassed about being asked questions about what stage of puberty and development she was in and having to be undressed for the doctor. And since she has a history of sexual abuse, this compounded my fears even more. We talked about it before the appointment and she was completely fine with that component of the exam.
She was not, however, happy that she would be getting shots. And she made it very clear that she was quite healthy and did not see why she needed any shots now or ever again and I should know this about her by now. She worked herself up into quite a lather about it.
At the time of the exam, she had calmed down quite a bit and was quietly asking me questions and chatting away. I noticed right away that the nurse hardly talked to me at all but talked to my daughter and asked HER all the questions. I was taken aback.
I was filling out a Health survey and suddenly realized that the questions were supposed to be answered by my daughter. So, with a sigh of sadness and transition, I passed the clipboard over to her. She is going to be in charge of her own health. I am not #1 person in this office visit anymore. It really surprised me how much that caught me off guard. I am just not ready for all of this. I know she is growing up. I can see the evidence in every aspect of her life. But I don't want her to. I want her to stay a little girl a little longer. I have just gotten the hang of this parenting thing and now I have to change again. I'm not ready!
I thought about it some more and realized my daughter and I are in a Push and Pull dance. I think this will continue for quite some time. She is going to push against me and try to gain independence and I will have to pull back. She may at the same time try to pull back to some of her childish ways and I will have to push her into more mature behaviors. It's going to be a tricky balance. I don't think it is going to be easy for either of us.
Back to the doctor appointment. She answered all of the questions and we were both relieved that there was no undressing. The doctor discussed her puberty and had her look at pictures and point out where she feels she is at. He discussed her health and she was really listening. I was very proud of her for that. But then it was time for shots.
My mature 12 year old disappeared when the two nurses walked in with their syringes. I could have closed my eyes and been back to a time when she was two years old. The nurses told her that they needed her upper arms. She began to argue that she wanted her shots "One at a time" but the nurses tried to convince her that it would be best to have it over all at once. She was protesting and fussing and yelling about it, tears stinging her eyes. While she argued, the nurses did the shots and it was over.
Suddenly, she blinked and turned to each nurse and glared. Then she glared at me. And burst into tears. I had to stifle a laugh because it was so cute. I helped her put her shirt back on and she started saying things like:
"I don't know if I should go back to school. My arms are really sore."
I nodded. But not in agreement, just to indicate that I was listening.
"I mean we are doing these stretches in gym and I don't think I can do them."
ummm hmmmm....
"And I don't think I can write. In French, we write for the whole time... How am I going to carry my back pack pack?"
I looked at her, "Sweetie, you are going back to school. I know your arms are sore but you are going to be fine."
But then I had to tell her that we had to go to the lab for a blood draw.
"Oh, well they are just going to poke my finger. That's not so bad."
I let out a big sigh, "Well, actually, they need to draw a couple of tubes of blood, so they need to get that from the crease of your elbow."
"WHAT!!"
She's a bit of a drama queen. She always has been . When she was little, and she would stub her toe, she would limp for days and days and tell me that she couldn't do anything I asked her to do because her foot hurt too much. I don't want to give in to that too much. Sometimes, there are things in life that we just have to suck up and deal with. Getting shots and blood drawn is one of those things and it does not get you out of school. Or homework.
Friday, January 30, 2009
In my very busy life, I have days when I really look forward to the kids going to bed. It will be the first time all day that I can relax and do something for me. Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids to pieces and I love to spend time with them but they are energy sappers and I am an introvert by nature. What I have learned about being an introvert is that I need a lot of down time in order to get rejuvenated and refreshed and ready to go back out into the world of people and energy sappers again. For this reason, bedtime is very important to me. And I am strict about what time it starts.
9 o’clock pm. Sharp. If it goes beyond 9 pm, I have been known to grow fangs and become a bit short-tempered. Sometimes I have days when I wish that bedtime would come a little sooner than 9 pm. But my ability to send children to bed early has been thwarted by their increasing ability to tell time and their awareness of daylight and darkness. And I have tried but I get the response back, usually from Smarty-pants BB, “It’s only 8:57. We have 3 more minutes.”
Even though my bedtime is strict, my kids are not great about staying in bed at 9pm. And they try to stretch out the bedtime process as much as possible. The following is a list of things they have said to me.
Why I can’t Go to Bed Yet:
1. I need my favorite ______________ pajamas (fill in Batman, Spiderman, Comfy, Fuzzy or “You know what one’s I like”) and you did not wash them yet.
2. I have to go to the bathroom.
9 o’clock pm. Sharp. If it goes beyond 9 pm, I have been known to grow fangs and become a bit short-tempered. Sometimes I have days when I wish that bedtime would come a little sooner than 9 pm. But my ability to send children to bed early has been thwarted by their increasing ability to tell time and their awareness of daylight and darkness. And I have tried but I get the response back, usually from Smarty-pants BB, “It’s only 8:57. We have 3 more minutes.”
Even though my bedtime is strict, my kids are not great about staying in bed at 9pm. And they try to stretch out the bedtime process as much as possible. The following is a list of things they have said to me.
Why I can’t Go to Bed Yet:
1. I need my favorite ______________ pajamas (fill in Batman, Spiderman, Comfy, Fuzzy or “You know what one’s I like”) and you did not wash them yet.
2. I have to go to the bathroom.
But honey, you just went a few minutes ago.
I have to go again. This is my EMERGENY bathroom trip.
You used that one already…4 bathroom times ago. You do remember that Mom is a nurse and knows that it is physically impossible, even for a boy such as yourself to have to use the bathroom more times in 15 minutes than you go all day because your kidneys only produce about a teaspoon of urine an hour and your bladder will only tell your brain it is full and needs to be empty when there are many more teaspoons in there…
3. I need a glass of water.
4. I wanted to bring you a glass of water. You looked thirsty.
5. I forgot something downstairs.
Like what?
Ummmm….I don’t remember but I will know it when I see it.
If you don’t know what it is, how do you know you even forgot it?
It just feels like I forgot something, that's all.
6. I have to say good-night to everyone.
7. I wanted to hug the cat and she is downstairs.
8. I needed to ask __________ a question.
And it can’t wait til tomorrow?
No.
What is the question?
I wanted to know the name of that guy in Arkham Asylum with Penguin.
And how will that help you sleep?
I just need to know his name.
9. I forgot to do my homework.
You’re in kindergarten. You don’t get homework until Friday.
10. I’m waiting for __________ to go to bed…or to get out of the bathroom.
11. You didn’t tuck me in.
Yes, I did.
But I don’t remember.
12. You didn’t hug me.
13. I can’t find my ___________________(insert current favorite plushie friend). I can’t sleep without him.
14. The cat keeps jumping on me.
Ummm, Shadow is here hiding behind my keyboard and Tiger is out in the garage. Nice try.
15. My brother won’t stop talking. He keeps calling me Idiot.
16. That show your watching..it’s my favorite.
It’s the news.
I know. I love the news.
17. I’m not sleepy.
18. I just want to know who you are talking to on Facebook. Will you say Hi for me?
19. I just wanted to know what you are doing.
20. I forgot to tell you that I love you.
21. What are we doing tomorrow?
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Basketball Mama Woes
Today was a tough day for my little basketball player. He would resent that I called him little but if you saw his team mates and the other players, its a fitting description. He is the shortest, scrawniest player on his team. However, there are other ballers who are as short as he is on other teams so that is some consolation to both of us.
When it is his time to play, the coach matches players by size, so BB is matched up with other short players. However, sometimes that is not good because these other little guys can really hustle and BB has a hard time keeping up with them. And I have come to realize that my boy is not an aggressive player, nor is he terribly energetic. He sort of meanders his way down the court, sort of shuffling along, while the coach is shouting, "BB Hustle!"
Basketball, I have also come to realize, is far more complicated than I had ever realized. It takes a lot of concentration and focus. Not only does the baller have to know where the basketball is, he has to know where his person to guard is and keep a handle on the other players as well as make a play to pass, rebound or shoot. It's fast paced and there are lots of skills.
My realization today is that it may be too much for my kid. However, we have another month of practices and games and I want him to finish because I do believe that it is a good lesson to finish what you start and he is learning a lot about being on a team, even if he is not the best player.
Oh but my heart was aching for him today. He was struggling so much. He just could not get his head in the game and his team mates where giving him directions about where to stand. At times he looked confused then he looked frustrated and embarrassed. I had tears in my eyes and I wanted to run over and scoop him up and make it better for him. However, I also realized that my Mom-reaction would not make it better. This was one of those things that I was going to have to let him just tough out.
At one point, he actually got the ball and was dribbling away. But he started heading toward the other team's basket. His team started yelling at him, "Wrong way...wrong way." And he dropped the ball and slid across the floor. When he got up, his cheeks were red hot. I tried to make eye contact with him but he just looked down at the floor.
The game lasted only about 1 more minute. He came over and I could tell he still looked upset. I wrapped my arms around him and said, "Everyone makes mistakes. It's OK."
He just shook his head and walked out. I know I can't make it better. I can't make him a better basketball player. I can't make his team mates like him more. The only thing I can do is tell him that I believe in him and that I am proud of him no matter what.
I caught up with him outside and got down to his eye level, "Sweetheart, maybe you aren't the best basketball player and that is OK. But I am proud of you. You go to every practice and every game. You work hard. You keep trying. You have perseverence. Sometimes other kids only see the scoreboard but I see the effort and I see the changes inside you. And that is what is really going to count."
When it is his time to play, the coach matches players by size, so BB is matched up with other short players. However, sometimes that is not good because these other little guys can really hustle and BB has a hard time keeping up with them. And I have come to realize that my boy is not an aggressive player, nor is he terribly energetic. He sort of meanders his way down the court, sort of shuffling along, while the coach is shouting, "BB Hustle!"
Basketball, I have also come to realize, is far more complicated than I had ever realized. It takes a lot of concentration and focus. Not only does the baller have to know where the basketball is, he has to know where his person to guard is and keep a handle on the other players as well as make a play to pass, rebound or shoot. It's fast paced and there are lots of skills.
My realization today is that it may be too much for my kid. However, we have another month of practices and games and I want him to finish because I do believe that it is a good lesson to finish what you start and he is learning a lot about being on a team, even if he is not the best player.
Oh but my heart was aching for him today. He was struggling so much. He just could not get his head in the game and his team mates where giving him directions about where to stand. At times he looked confused then he looked frustrated and embarrassed. I had tears in my eyes and I wanted to run over and scoop him up and make it better for him. However, I also realized that my Mom-reaction would not make it better. This was one of those things that I was going to have to let him just tough out.
At one point, he actually got the ball and was dribbling away. But he started heading toward the other team's basket. His team started yelling at him, "Wrong way...wrong way." And he dropped the ball and slid across the floor. When he got up, his cheeks were red hot. I tried to make eye contact with him but he just looked down at the floor.
The game lasted only about 1 more minute. He came over and I could tell he still looked upset. I wrapped my arms around him and said, "Everyone makes mistakes. It's OK."
He just shook his head and walked out. I know I can't make it better. I can't make him a better basketball player. I can't make his team mates like him more. The only thing I can do is tell him that I believe in him and that I am proud of him no matter what.
I caught up with him outside and got down to his eye level, "Sweetheart, maybe you aren't the best basketball player and that is OK. But I am proud of you. You go to every practice and every game. You work hard. You keep trying. You have perseverence. Sometimes other kids only see the scoreboard but I see the effort and I see the changes inside you. And that is what is really going to count."
Thursday, January 22, 2009
I am not a very good sick person. To be more accurate, I am not a very good recovering from sickness person. At least I know that I am getting better when I start getting really irritable. I am embarrassed to say, my behavior is not pleasant or particularly mature.
After a day of spewing from every exit, my body is aching. I told my kids my vomit muscles hurt. They laughed. I still feel tired and easily fatigued on top of being very crabby. I spent yesterday on the couch fading in and out of a show on the Sci Fi channel. I had two people ask me if I ate tainted Peanut Butter. Ha ha.
I set my alarm but apparently in my fevered, and foggy state, I did not set it to the correct am/pm designation. My alarm clock is rather goofy anyway. It is cool in the fact that it sets the time itself just by being plugged in and doesn't do that 12:00 blinky thing if the power goes out. However, for some reason, I can't always get it set to the correct time zone nor can I get it to be on the correct am/pm setting. When I am thinking clearly, I know that I have to have it set to the opposite of what it should be on a non-goofy clock. But when I am sick, I can't think like that. So, I had set my alarm to the correct time but forgot about the weird am/pm glitch.
I woke up from a weird dream about calling in to work, back when I worked at the Regional Treatment Center, only in my dream, I couldn't figure out who I was supposed to call and no one I tried calling would tell me the correct person or would tell me that I needed to call another number and in the meantime, the start of my shift had begun and now I was a "no call/no show" and was completely humiliated... So, when I stirred out of this panicky dream, I looked at the clock and realized it was 6:40am and I needed to get my daughter off to school. She apparently fell asleep on the couch and when I woke her, told me that she had been up and in the bathroom a good deal of the night.
Good...go back to sleep. You're staying home.
And I went back to bed. I called my supervisor, told her I would be in later, reset my alarm and went back to bed to have more weird dreams.
The next time I woke up, I looked at the clock, realizing that again, my alarm had not gone off. It was 8:50am and I needed to get the boys ready. PH has a concert today and needs to wear black pants and a white shirt. He insisted on wearing his black running pants.
Fine. They are black. Here's a white shirt. Let's go.
BB and Princess are playing Playstation and I have to demand they shut it off and now is when things get ugly. Is it my kids fault that I did not set my alarm correctly and thus overslept? Is it their fault that we are now running late? Is it their fault that because of my sickness yesterday, two of them left their backpacks at the babysitter's and no amount of cajoling or yelling was going to produce them?
And yet, all that proceeded out of my mouth was harsh, ugly words of "Get going. NOW."
Peanut is in tears. BB is harumphing around as slowly as he can, making angry faces at me. PH is pouting at me and trying his hardest to tie his boots with minimal success. And yet, the verbal tirade continues. Every single thing in the house is getting on my nerves. The mud on the floor that was tracked in yesterday by the guys who came to fix my door knob. The wrapper from a cereal bar that someone has yet again neglected to get into the garbage that is 6 inches away...
I can't take it. Finally, I get everyone into the car and I do believe just about everyone was either in tears or fuming mad and I get them to school. BB blurts out, "I think we are going to be late. It's 9:24"
"You have 1 minute to get in that door. You are fine. Now Go."
What a pleasant way to start the day.
So, after this, I head over to the gas station and pick up some Sprite for my daughter and then I head home. I did the dishes and that, surprisingly, made me feel better. It was one thing I could accomplish. I also took a very long, hot shower and got ready for work.
I realized that I am still not 100% up to par when I had been at work for a couple of hours and realized that I really needed a nap and was counting down the minutes until I could head home. However, what waited for me at home was a 2nd grade choir concert, dinner and 4 kids. Hardly the rest I need. And my kids will attest that I continued to be very crabby.
My stellar quote of the evening, while I looked for a parking place at the school, was "BB, I don't need you to gripe because I am griping sufficiently for all of us."
As soon as it flew out of my mouth, I knew that I was in a state of severe distress and not completely in control. As one of my client's calls it "No social filter".
After a day of spewing from every exit, my body is aching. I told my kids my vomit muscles hurt. They laughed. I still feel tired and easily fatigued on top of being very crabby. I spent yesterday on the couch fading in and out of a show on the Sci Fi channel. I had two people ask me if I ate tainted Peanut Butter. Ha ha.
I set my alarm but apparently in my fevered, and foggy state, I did not set it to the correct am/pm designation. My alarm clock is rather goofy anyway. It is cool in the fact that it sets the time itself just by being plugged in and doesn't do that 12:00 blinky thing if the power goes out. However, for some reason, I can't always get it set to the correct time zone nor can I get it to be on the correct am/pm setting. When I am thinking clearly, I know that I have to have it set to the opposite of what it should be on a non-goofy clock. But when I am sick, I can't think like that. So, I had set my alarm to the correct time but forgot about the weird am/pm glitch.
I woke up from a weird dream about calling in to work, back when I worked at the Regional Treatment Center, only in my dream, I couldn't figure out who I was supposed to call and no one I tried calling would tell me the correct person or would tell me that I needed to call another number and in the meantime, the start of my shift had begun and now I was a "no call/no show" and was completely humiliated... So, when I stirred out of this panicky dream, I looked at the clock and realized it was 6:40am and I needed to get my daughter off to school. She apparently fell asleep on the couch and when I woke her, told me that she had been up and in the bathroom a good deal of the night.
Good...go back to sleep. You're staying home.
And I went back to bed. I called my supervisor, told her I would be in later, reset my alarm and went back to bed to have more weird dreams.
The next time I woke up, I looked at the clock, realizing that again, my alarm had not gone off. It was 8:50am and I needed to get the boys ready. PH has a concert today and needs to wear black pants and a white shirt. He insisted on wearing his black running pants.
Fine. They are black. Here's a white shirt. Let's go.
BB and Princess are playing Playstation and I have to demand they shut it off and now is when things get ugly. Is it my kids fault that I did not set my alarm correctly and thus overslept? Is it their fault that we are now running late? Is it their fault that because of my sickness yesterday, two of them left their backpacks at the babysitter's and no amount of cajoling or yelling was going to produce them?
And yet, all that proceeded out of my mouth was harsh, ugly words of "Get going. NOW."
Peanut is in tears. BB is harumphing around as slowly as he can, making angry faces at me. PH is pouting at me and trying his hardest to tie his boots with minimal success. And yet, the verbal tirade continues. Every single thing in the house is getting on my nerves. The mud on the floor that was tracked in yesterday by the guys who came to fix my door knob. The wrapper from a cereal bar that someone has yet again neglected to get into the garbage that is 6 inches away...
I can't take it. Finally, I get everyone into the car and I do believe just about everyone was either in tears or fuming mad and I get them to school. BB blurts out, "I think we are going to be late. It's 9:24"
"You have 1 minute to get in that door. You are fine. Now Go."
What a pleasant way to start the day.
So, after this, I head over to the gas station and pick up some Sprite for my daughter and then I head home. I did the dishes and that, surprisingly, made me feel better. It was one thing I could accomplish. I also took a very long, hot shower and got ready for work.
I realized that I am still not 100% up to par when I had been at work for a couple of hours and realized that I really needed a nap and was counting down the minutes until I could head home. However, what waited for me at home was a 2nd grade choir concert, dinner and 4 kids. Hardly the rest I need. And my kids will attest that I continued to be very crabby.
My stellar quote of the evening, while I looked for a parking place at the school, was "BB, I don't need you to gripe because I am griping sufficiently for all of us."
As soon as it flew out of my mouth, I knew that I was in a state of severe distress and not completely in control. As one of my client's calls it "No social filter".
Sunday, January 18, 2009
So Much for a Day of Rest
Sunday was crazy. So crazy it deserves a capital letter, Crazy. But I think I need to back up just a bit because some of my Sunday crazy is left over from Saturday. Saturday night consists of the usual attempt to get everybody bathed. Sometimes I am more successful than other times. This time was not one of those times. I ran to the store to pick up a few things I had not been able to get earlier on our Bi-weekly Shopping Extravaganza and to return our Redbox DVD's (there is just only so much I can take of 4 kids in Sam's Club and Walmart before I am ready for my quiet room and medication). I told my daughter to get herself into the ...note the key word...Shower while I was gone so that when I got back home in 15 minutes, I could get the boys into the shower.
I enjoyed my 15 minutes of peace and quiet in the grocery store and came home to find the boys playing on the Playstation and they informed me that Princess was upstairs in the bathroom. I went up to see how she was doing to discover that she had decided to take a bath. She assured me that it would be a quick bath. However, this girl does not take "quick baths" and I had to encourage her...several times and with greater intensity...to get out. By this time, it is 9:30pm and I get PH and Peanut showered with no problems other than a firm reminder from Peanut that he is out of Jammie pants (because he insists he can only wear his PJ's one time before they are dirty and yet he can wear his favorite shirt for 3 days in a row if I let him).
BB is next in line. He begins to fuss and fight. And whine. And grumble. And complain. I decide that this is not a hill I am willing to die on, on this day, and state that he will take a shower first thing in the morning.
I enjoyed my 15 minutes of peace and quiet in the grocery store and came home to find the boys playing on the Playstation and they informed me that Princess was upstairs in the bathroom. I went up to see how she was doing to discover that she had decided to take a bath. She assured me that it would be a quick bath. However, this girl does not take "quick baths" and I had to encourage her...several times and with greater intensity...to get out. By this time, it is 9:30pm and I get PH and Peanut showered with no problems other than a firm reminder from Peanut that he is out of Jammie pants (because he insists he can only wear his PJ's one time before they are dirty and yet he can wear his favorite shirt for 3 days in a row if I let him).
BB is next in line. He begins to fuss and fight. And whine. And grumble. And complain. I decide that this is not a hill I am willing to die on, on this day, and state that he will take a shower first thing in the morning.
He agrees but I know him well enough to know that this will not be as simple as it sounds to the naked ear. The boy likes to fight about bathing, as if it is a shower of acid I am forcing him in to instead of mere soap and water. Sometimes he will playfully yell out, "It burns...it burns..." And I tease back, "Honey, that is just the yuck coming off. The germs are upset that they must un-inhabit your body but soon, the soap will take over and all will feel good again. And you will smell better." He giggles.
Sunday morning rolls around and I went down to the kitchen to fix a salad I would need for the last stop in our adventure. I informed him that the shower was impending in "T minus 10 minutes". He begins to grumble. I have learned, because I am smart and adaptable, and from many a similar battle and several sessions in therapy, that this is merely part of the dance and not to get upset when he starts to gripe.
Things did not go smoothly. Everyone was tired and everyone needed coaxing to get up and get dressed. PH argued with me about his church attired. He insisted that jeans make his legs too cold so he should be able to wear sweat pants. I insisted that on Sunday morning, I get to choose his wardrobe but in the afternoon, he could change. We did not even require a notary to witness that agreement but it took several minutes to strike it. Peanut does better with picking appropriate church clothes. He is all about solid colors these days. And he likes to wear 1 color. Unless it is his favorite green striped shirt which he insists is Everyone's Favorite. Thankfully, it was clean. But then he struggled with getting his pants buttoned.
Princess has wardrobe issues as well. She has a severe lack of appropriate clothing for church. She has grown a lot this year and no longer fits in the girl's section of the store and yet the styles in the juniors department are not appropriate nor are they too her taste. Not to mention we have to figure out what her size is. It took a while to find an outfit. I picked out her very cute sweater with a nice white T-shirt under it but she fussed because "you can see my bra". I should not complain about her modesty. I should celebrate it because quite frankly, there are too many girls showing bra straps and thongs these days who would not be offended when their mothers suggest that the sweater will cover it up just fine.
Now I am finally getting myself ready. Then I have to look for socks. I am several days past due for laundry so...I had to look for slightly less dirty socks for the boys to wear. Everyone was fussing and dragging their feet as we try to get out the door. I generally try to leave the house at 9am so that we have time for donuts before church. It's my incentive for getting everyone ready on time. We did not get out the door until 9:25 so I declared that I would be passing out cereal bars and there would be NO DONUTS this morning and that this was a consequence of everyone being so UNCOOPERATIVE with me.
In the middle of this, Someone, and no one seemed to know which Someone, took PH's gift out of it's packaging. There were two suspects but neither would confess. I had to let it go of that and find a way to salvage the situation for PH. And we did with a minimal amount of yelling and no bloodshed or bruising.
Fast-forward through church. Lunch at McDonald's. My kids, sadly, have become quite particular about their food. I ask them what they want but I should not really bother. It's the same...Princess and BB want Double Cheeseburgers with NO PICKLES and NO ONIONS (or else!!), PH wants Chicken Nuggets and Peanut wants a burger with EXTRA PICKLES....I try to tease the cashier and ask for a Pickle Burger. Sometimes they laugh. Today, the cashier was new or a little low on IQ points because she did not get anything right.
I told my kids, who started to fuss about it, that they would need to deal with it politely and if they did, there would be ice cream. Isn't it interesting that I got no complaints? I thought so too. I highly recommend using the strategy of denying them ice cream for months at a time so that when you really, really need it, you can offer this incentive and it is very effective.
After lunch, we began our Crazy afternoon. First stop, Home. PH reminded me that I promised he could change into sweat pants that do not make his legs cold the way jeans do. Peanut needed to get his winter gear so he could go to his Tubing party at Ecko Baken. I needed to change out of my church clothes and I Highly Recommended that everyone use the bathroom before we left or they would be holding it for a quite a while. Some followed my advice, some did not. But the Did Not's now know why I Highly Recommended and hopefully, a lesson was learned.
Next Stop, Scandia and Ecko Baken to drop off Peanut. He looked both excited and slightly terrified. It's a good sign that he is going to have a good time. I hug and kiss him and tell him I will see him a couple of hours.
Next stop, Oakdale to Pump It Up to drop off PH. En Route, BB broke his lego creation and was screaming his head off, which was punching through my skull like an iron spike because he couldn't get it back together. I suggested that if he waited until I got to Pump It Up, I could take a look at it and he screamed, "What can YOU do about it? You never ever LOOKED at the directions?"
Now I am insulted and my migraine is flaring up and I would like nothing better than to stop the car, and break his lego creation into tinier pieces with a haughty, "There! How do you like that?" But, I am the grown-up and have more restraint than to act upon my impulses and I tried very hard to stay patient and kind while every ear piercing scream drove the spike of pain deeper into my head, moving down my face, over my eye and settling into my teeth.
I snapped, "You know what, screaming at me is not going to change anything!! All it does is make me angry. "
He answers, "I don't care!"
I reply, "I don't care either."
That was really mature I know. Migraine headaches and 3 hours in the car is enough to drive any mother to the brink.
But the kid got real quiet after that. He made a few more squeaks about his legos. But the screaming stopped. I don't recommend the method even if it was effective.
Next stop, back up to Ecko Baken to pick up Peanut. He is slowly eating cake and ice cream and looking sad. Apparently, he got forgotten in the group and had to find another way in to the building. He was also mad at me because I left and I was supposed to stay. However, I explained to him that I was invited to stay but I had told the parents I could not because I was driving his brother to another party.
Next stop, back down to Pump It Up to pick up PH. He is excited. He declares, "I want to come here for my birthday!"
Next stop, Eagle's Nest in New Brighton. The kids can play and I can have some adult conversation. My head is still pounding but I am distracted for a while.
Finally, at 8pm, we arrive home. Whew!
9pm...the door knob from the garage to the kitchen falls off. Terr-if-ic.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
The Writing Process
Writing a book, I have decided, is very different then writing a blog. It may have something to do with the subject matter. My blog is about the daily stuff of life. My book is about a specific period of time in my life that is wrought with emotion. I can not get it out of my head. I HAVE to write it. I know that, just like I know I have to breathe 12 times a minute, give or take. And like breathing, I have only some amount of control over it. It is a very strange thing.
I am currently stuck. I was thinking about it today on my way to work. And of course, as I thought about it, the tears just flowed out of me. I realized that crying is also part of my cathartic process. Sometimes there is so much emotion tied in with these events that tears are the only outlet I have left. I have worked through the anger and the grief, for the most part. Those emotions are not the primary issues any more. Tears are indicators, to me anyway, that I still have emotional ties to my memories and to the wounds I have healed from.
The part I am stuck on is the day that I physically left the state of Texas, my husband, my house and my friends. A door to that part of my life slammed shut. Reality began to sink in. But how do I describe it? Most of it, I do not even remember. It is a blur of highway miles, scenery, drowsy conversation and one poignant epiphany moment.
I realized that I have not spent a lot of time reliving this day. I have walked through my last week in Texas, from the moment I learned of the abuse my husband was enacting upon my 5 year old daughter, through the reporting process at the police station, the rape kit at the hospital and the interview with Child Protection. I have replayed all of those moments in my head so many times in the last 6 years. I have tried to dissect and understand every piece of what happened. What did I miss? Did I handle it right? What did I say? What did I do? How did it feel?
I had to do that. HAD TO. It was how I worked through my grieving process. It was how I made my decisions about how I would move forward, what I would tell my children and how I would live the rest of my life. That week was when I stopped being a victim and started surviving.
I think there were important things that happened in the 1200 miles between Dallas and St. Paul. Clearly, not every mile was crucial. I can not remember every detail. I just have not thought about it much. If I were sitting in my therapist’s office, I am pretty sure she would ask me why. So, I will ask myself that question.
Even though I was with my parents, I felt utterly alone. I was safe but I was scared. Actually, I was terrified. I had no idea what I was going to do from that day forward. Everything in front of me, for the first time in my life, was a complete and utter blank. I had nothing but 3 children and 1 squirming inside me, the clothes on my back and $500.
The only thing I was certain of was that I had to get out of Texas. I could not feel safe in the same state as my husband, the abuser of my child. A few weeks later, I would realize that he was my abuser too. My feelings of panic were part of that reaction to being abused and now I was yanking myself out of a situation that although it was extremely unhealthy, it was predictable. I did not know if I could do it.
It is a very good thing that I was not driving because I am fairly certain, I would have either turned the car around or I would have stopped many times on the side of the road. Instead, I was able to let someone else literally take the wheel for a while and drive me away and keep me going in the direction I needed to go, even though I was afraid of what lay ahead.
As I think about this writing block I have, I think it may be that there is not much “action” to describe compared to the whirlwind I had just gone through. This section of my story is more reflective and is more about feelings, impressions and remembering with a little bit of planning and then a lot of “dawning realizations” about the hard road ahead of me.
Perhaps this experience of writing about it is not so much about what words I find to describe the events of my life but the process I go through to put them into place and make them make sense again. Catharsis and healing.
I am currently stuck. I was thinking about it today on my way to work. And of course, as I thought about it, the tears just flowed out of me. I realized that crying is also part of my cathartic process. Sometimes there is so much emotion tied in with these events that tears are the only outlet I have left. I have worked through the anger and the grief, for the most part. Those emotions are not the primary issues any more. Tears are indicators, to me anyway, that I still have emotional ties to my memories and to the wounds I have healed from.
The part I am stuck on is the day that I physically left the state of Texas, my husband, my house and my friends. A door to that part of my life slammed shut. Reality began to sink in. But how do I describe it? Most of it, I do not even remember. It is a blur of highway miles, scenery, drowsy conversation and one poignant epiphany moment.
I realized that I have not spent a lot of time reliving this day. I have walked through my last week in Texas, from the moment I learned of the abuse my husband was enacting upon my 5 year old daughter, through the reporting process at the police station, the rape kit at the hospital and the interview with Child Protection. I have replayed all of those moments in my head so many times in the last 6 years. I have tried to dissect and understand every piece of what happened. What did I miss? Did I handle it right? What did I say? What did I do? How did it feel?
I had to do that. HAD TO. It was how I worked through my grieving process. It was how I made my decisions about how I would move forward, what I would tell my children and how I would live the rest of my life. That week was when I stopped being a victim and started surviving.
I think there were important things that happened in the 1200 miles between Dallas and St. Paul. Clearly, not every mile was crucial. I can not remember every detail. I just have not thought about it much. If I were sitting in my therapist’s office, I am pretty sure she would ask me why. So, I will ask myself that question.
Even though I was with my parents, I felt utterly alone. I was safe but I was scared. Actually, I was terrified. I had no idea what I was going to do from that day forward. Everything in front of me, for the first time in my life, was a complete and utter blank. I had nothing but 3 children and 1 squirming inside me, the clothes on my back and $500.
The only thing I was certain of was that I had to get out of Texas. I could not feel safe in the same state as my husband, the abuser of my child. A few weeks later, I would realize that he was my abuser too. My feelings of panic were part of that reaction to being abused and now I was yanking myself out of a situation that although it was extremely unhealthy, it was predictable. I did not know if I could do it.
It is a very good thing that I was not driving because I am fairly certain, I would have either turned the car around or I would have stopped many times on the side of the road. Instead, I was able to let someone else literally take the wheel for a while and drive me away and keep me going in the direction I needed to go, even though I was afraid of what lay ahead.
As I think about this writing block I have, I think it may be that there is not much “action” to describe compared to the whirlwind I had just gone through. This section of my story is more reflective and is more about feelings, impressions and remembering with a little bit of planning and then a lot of “dawning realizations” about the hard road ahead of me.
Perhaps this experience of writing about it is not so much about what words I find to describe the events of my life but the process I go through to put them into place and make them make sense again. Catharsis and healing.
Monday, January 12, 2009
The Pre-reader
Peanut is really picking up his letter recognition and is trying to make sense of the letters he does see. It is really a lot of fun listening to him as he identifies letters he sees.
This past weekend while we were driving down the road, he saw this sign and starting telling me that "P is for 'people'" and if that is the case then he inferred, "That sign means that No People can be on the road."
Reflections on the Weekend
I could deny it no longer. The boys look like they have hair growing out of their ears, Princess must have a set of beautiful blue eyes under those bangs...but my wallet and tight budget as well as 2 kids with birthdays, cannot support $60 for hair cuts. So, I had to pull out my clippers and scissors. I will admit that I am a bit rusty.
OK...OK...Very rusty.
I'm actually very embarrassed for PH. He suffered the worst at my inept attempt with the clippers. However, I will not solely carry the blame. He is very impatient and very wiggly. He also has the thickest head of hair. Its fabulous and I love it but it is a brute to cut nicely. Not like my two toe-heads. I had to cut his hair twice, it was so bad. I managed to somewhat salvage it but there are still some patches where I got a little too close. I could pretend that he got in to the clippers or that his brother did. But that is not a good example is it? Maybe I should be the one to put the paper bag over my head for the next few weeks until it grows out a bit.
I look at his cute little face with his Jack-o-lantern grin and then I see the almost-bald patches and I start to chant to myself, "It's only hair...it will grow back...It's only hair...It will grow back..."
Peanut's hair was not cooperating too much either but he was completely OK with me just buzzing his whole head. He looks so darn cute when it's that short anyway. When BB looked at Peanut, and I was struggling with two miserable attempts at boy haircuts, I offered to buzz it and BB said, "I do not want to look like Peanut!"
I had to try and not make the same mistakes. Apparently, by the third haircut, I had made significant improvements because BB's hair looks really good, for an amateur.
Princess let me cut her bangs and yes, she has eyes!! But my sister and I were playing with her hair and discussing it. My sister, Desert Bloom, pointed out that Princess's hair is very much like her hair, thin and easily splits but great in quantity! And Princess also has the two cowlicks that Desert Bloom has too. Poor thing. When Princess was a baby and had very little hair, her hair all went forward and no amount of coaxing my part could make it look feminine, not to mention, it was very straight. Even if I put a bow on her head, she looked boyish. At least when her hair is long, it pulls the cowlicks down.
But my sister and I sighed together as we looked at Princess's hair and I looked at how much her hair was breaking and how badly it tangles all the time. I realized that it has to be cut. There is just no other way. Princess was sad to hear it but it is not the first time we have cut her hair short due to split ends. Her only comment to me, "Mom, just try to cut it straight this time."
It's like she knows me or something.
Smarty-pants.
I cut off about 5 inches. It was a battle to get her hair to lay nice because of those cowlicks. I have a friend who is a beautician and she gave me a couple of pointers for cutting Princess's hair. She told me to never cut it wet but always cut it dry. So, I think I managed OK. It looks so cute when it's short.
Princess said to me later, "Mom, maybe now that my hair is short, we can curl it with the curling iron."
I have been waiting for this day. Is it wrong to be thankful for split ends? Let's just keep that between us.
OK...OK...Very rusty.
I'm actually very embarrassed for PH. He suffered the worst at my inept attempt with the clippers. However, I will not solely carry the blame. He is very impatient and very wiggly. He also has the thickest head of hair. Its fabulous and I love it but it is a brute to cut nicely. Not like my two toe-heads. I had to cut his hair twice, it was so bad. I managed to somewhat salvage it but there are still some patches where I got a little too close. I could pretend that he got in to the clippers or that his brother did. But that is not a good example is it? Maybe I should be the one to put the paper bag over my head for the next few weeks until it grows out a bit.
I look at his cute little face with his Jack-o-lantern grin and then I see the almost-bald patches and I start to chant to myself, "It's only hair...it will grow back...It's only hair...It will grow back..."
Peanut's hair was not cooperating too much either but he was completely OK with me just buzzing his whole head. He looks so darn cute when it's that short anyway. When BB looked at Peanut, and I was struggling with two miserable attempts at boy haircuts, I offered to buzz it and BB said, "I do not want to look like Peanut!"
I had to try and not make the same mistakes. Apparently, by the third haircut, I had made significant improvements because BB's hair looks really good, for an amateur.
Princess let me cut her bangs and yes, she has eyes!! But my sister and I were playing with her hair and discussing it. My sister, Desert Bloom, pointed out that Princess's hair is very much like her hair, thin and easily splits but great in quantity! And Princess also has the two cowlicks that Desert Bloom has too. Poor thing. When Princess was a baby and had very little hair, her hair all went forward and no amount of coaxing my part could make it look feminine, not to mention, it was very straight. Even if I put a bow on her head, she looked boyish. At least when her hair is long, it pulls the cowlicks down.
But my sister and I sighed together as we looked at Princess's hair and I looked at how much her hair was breaking and how badly it tangles all the time. I realized that it has to be cut. There is just no other way. Princess was sad to hear it but it is not the first time we have cut her hair short due to split ends. Her only comment to me, "Mom, just try to cut it straight this time."
It's like she knows me or something.
Smarty-pants.
I cut off about 5 inches. It was a battle to get her hair to lay nice because of those cowlicks. I have a friend who is a beautician and she gave me a couple of pointers for cutting Princess's hair. She told me to never cut it wet but always cut it dry. So, I think I managed OK. It looks so cute when it's short.
Princess said to me later, "Mom, maybe now that my hair is short, we can curl it with the curling iron."
I have been waiting for this day. Is it wrong to be thankful for split ends? Let's just keep that between us.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Friday Sick Day
I am home with 3 out of 4 children. Poor little Peanut tried, unsuccessfully, to convince me that he too must be sick and must also need to stay home. I think he is afraid he is missing out on something good. I had to have a little heart-to-heart with him about how we need to go to school and cannot stay home just because every one else is...and then I bribed him with a treat from the gas station on the way to school. I whispered it in his ear to make it extra special. It lit a fire under him and he was ready to get ready.
Before all of this occurred however, I was lounging in bed, rather enjoying the extra time to rest that having 3 sick children was going to bring me. Peanut woke up and then came and snuggled up to me in my bed. Next thing I knew he was laying on top of me, as I lay on my side. I started to rub his back and he just burrowed into my shoulder. It was the sweetest way to wake up.
I had a strange thought however. I have a queen-sized bed all to myself and yet, I continue to find I sleep on only one half of it. Is it because old habits die hard? Is it because this is where the alarm clock and the lamp is?
Before all of this occurred however, I was lounging in bed, rather enjoying the extra time to rest that having 3 sick children was going to bring me. Peanut woke up and then came and snuggled up to me in my bed. Next thing I knew he was laying on top of me, as I lay on my side. I started to rub his back and he just burrowed into my shoulder. It was the sweetest way to wake up.
I had a strange thought however. I have a queen-sized bed all to myself and yet, I continue to find I sleep on only one half of it. Is it because old habits die hard? Is it because this is where the alarm clock and the lamp is?
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Thursday
I feel like today was a waste of a very good hair day. Doesn't that sound girly? And maybe a little bit vain. It's true though. I don't know what I did differently today but somehow, my hair just fell into all the right places, had the right amount of lift and movement and just looked good.
It feels like a waste because halfway through my work day, I got the Dreaded Call from the nurses office. BB threw up and was now in her office and she needed me to come get him.
Sometimes, I am embarrassed to say, I do not say the right thing.
Are you sure he is sick? I mean he could just be very tired. He was up kind of late, goofing around on the video games.
Thankfully, the nurse and I have gotten to know each other quite well and I don't think my stupid question insulted either her, her assessment or position as Keeper of All Healthy Things in the Elementary School.
Did you take his temperature? Maybe if he doesn't have a fever, he can just stick it out.
As the Mom, RN, there are days when I am positively brilliant. (please note the sarcasm and tone I take with myself.) However, I was in a dilemma. I was at work, in the middle of a training on how to use my tablet. And my usual Go-To guy, Grandpa, is in the hospital recovering from surgery. My Mom is busy taking care of him and my sisters are also back at work. What am I to do? I also have two client appointments to do. It's not so easy to just drop everything and run off to pick up a sick child from school... a child I suspect is not really sick.
Shame on me. Maybe he really is. It isn't like him to pretend to be sick. And he did throw up. Even if he doesn't have a fever, he can't stay in school or take up the bed in the nurses office. I do give the nurse a lot of credit. She is very patient and accommodating. I have worked with several different school nurses and I know that there are a few who would demand that I get there at "half past an hour ago" or sooner and wouldn't care about my issues.
I told her that I had to finish this training and then I would come. I called my supervisor and let her know what was going on. I also talked to one of the case managers about her client that was one of my appointments. I also said I could do a little bit of my paperwork from home.
After picking up my son, who did look a little peeked, I pulled out my tablet and started doing some of my work. I had been at work no more than 10 minutes when I get a phone call from the nurse. Now PH was in her office with the same complaints. However, he is unable to vomit due to his surgery. So, I get back in my car and drive back to the school, while calling my supervisor.
They're dropping like flies...
So, it looks like I will be home with 2 sick boys. They are not lethargic but they are crabby. I would be happier with lethargy.
This is one of my biggest struggles with being a single parent. There are many difficulties. Parenting children is, in my book, intended to be a two person job. When it falls on only one parent, the burden more than just doubles. I don't know how else to explain it. I think it is like a team of oxen. One ox can pull a large weight alone, but a team of oxen because they are yoked together and work as a team can pull 3-4 times the weight that one ox can. The single parent is like that one ox trying to pull the weight of a team.
What is a single parent supposed to do when her children are sick? I only accrue so much sick leave and vacation. Yet, my job has responsibilities as well that while they can sometimes be shifted to others temporarily, it is not good to have to always shift them. I am fortunate in that I have a job that is extremely flexible and I have relationships built with my clients that they will allow me some latitude in moving appointments around. A day like today, I feel torn apart. My children need me, work needs me.
And now I feel the headache and the stomach ache coming on. I am probably getting sick too. There is no one here to take care of me. It could be a long, long weekend.
It feels like a waste because halfway through my work day, I got the Dreaded Call from the nurses office. BB threw up and was now in her office and she needed me to come get him.
Sometimes, I am embarrassed to say, I do not say the right thing.
Are you sure he is sick? I mean he could just be very tired. He was up kind of late, goofing around on the video games.
Thankfully, the nurse and I have gotten to know each other quite well and I don't think my stupid question insulted either her, her assessment or position as Keeper of All Healthy Things in the Elementary School.
Did you take his temperature? Maybe if he doesn't have a fever, he can just stick it out.
As the Mom, RN, there are days when I am positively brilliant. (please note the sarcasm and tone I take with myself.) However, I was in a dilemma. I was at work, in the middle of a training on how to use my tablet. And my usual Go-To guy, Grandpa, is in the hospital recovering from surgery. My Mom is busy taking care of him and my sisters are also back at work. What am I to do? I also have two client appointments to do. It's not so easy to just drop everything and run off to pick up a sick child from school... a child I suspect is not really sick.
Shame on me. Maybe he really is. It isn't like him to pretend to be sick. And he did throw up. Even if he doesn't have a fever, he can't stay in school or take up the bed in the nurses office. I do give the nurse a lot of credit. She is very patient and accommodating. I have worked with several different school nurses and I know that there are a few who would demand that I get there at "half past an hour ago" or sooner and wouldn't care about my issues.
I told her that I had to finish this training and then I would come. I called my supervisor and let her know what was going on. I also talked to one of the case managers about her client that was one of my appointments. I also said I could do a little bit of my paperwork from home.
After picking up my son, who did look a little peeked, I pulled out my tablet and started doing some of my work. I had been at work no more than 10 minutes when I get a phone call from the nurse. Now PH was in her office with the same complaints. However, he is unable to vomit due to his surgery. So, I get back in my car and drive back to the school, while calling my supervisor.
They're dropping like flies...
So, it looks like I will be home with 2 sick boys. They are not lethargic but they are crabby. I would be happier with lethargy.
This is one of my biggest struggles with being a single parent. There are many difficulties. Parenting children is, in my book, intended to be a two person job. When it falls on only one parent, the burden more than just doubles. I don't know how else to explain it. I think it is like a team of oxen. One ox can pull a large weight alone, but a team of oxen because they are yoked together and work as a team can pull 3-4 times the weight that one ox can. The single parent is like that one ox trying to pull the weight of a team.
What is a single parent supposed to do when her children are sick? I only accrue so much sick leave and vacation. Yet, my job has responsibilities as well that while they can sometimes be shifted to others temporarily, it is not good to have to always shift them. I am fortunate in that I have a job that is extremely flexible and I have relationships built with my clients that they will allow me some latitude in moving appointments around. A day like today, I feel torn apart. My children need me, work needs me.
And now I feel the headache and the stomach ache coming on. I am probably getting sick too. There is no one here to take care of me. It could be a long, long weekend.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
A Year Reviewed
I read a lot of other people's blogs and I will readily admit that I will borrow ideas from their blogs when I hit a dry spell. I read one this morning about reviewing the past year. I find that I am currently in a very reflective mood, so this idea is quite suitable to me. So, I am going to review 2008 and the things I did and learned.
In January, I learned that "Breaking up IS hard to do" but it is necessary and sometimes it is harder when it is all in your head then when you actually do it. But maybe I could have done it in person rather than over Instant Messenger. For that, I admit to a moment of Chicken-ness. Actually, I did not break off with NY in person because I was becoming increasingly wary of him and his response to me. I was not sure what he would do, how he would react and I was growing afraid. It turned out that I did have good reason to be wary because a few months later, when I decided to move out of the Forest Lake house and sever that financial tie to him as well, he began to threaten me and leave me nasty messages on my cell phone. Then in October, he had me served with papers for a lawsuit for back rent, repairs and various other monies he feels I owe him. Some I would agree with and some I would not. So, I think that perhaps breaking up via IM was the wiser course of action.
I learned that my family loves me very much but have a very weird sense of humor when my mother declared that I would be on a "Man-atorium" until further notice and the details of this declaration were slowly being developed as she went along, the rules added as she saw fit. And I learned in October, as did my sisters much to their surprise, that they will be the ones who will decide that the Man-atorium is lifted and I will be free to date again.
My Grandmother surprised me several times throughout the year by helping me financially. She really wanted me to get out of the FL house, so she gave me the money I needed for a deposit and first month's rent. Later in the year, she paid off two of my school loans. She is a real inspiration to me. She too was married to an abusive man, divorced him and went back to school as an older adult. She has risen above her challenges and is a very remarkable woman.
My children surprised me by adapting quite well to changing schools at the end of the school year. We started at Oneka Elementary right after Spring break in April. I learned later that there was a lot of information I missed out on as far as my daughter's transition to middle school but it all worked out in the end.
We had a bumpy summer in which I had to really pinch pennies, make very tough choices and learn some tough lessons about the importance of budgeting. I am still recovering from that but I have learned a lot of valuable things from that experience and even as hard as it was, I can't ignore the changes that have been made in me. However, I have come to realize that changing yourself, developing new habits and breaking bad habits does not happen over night. It takes a long time. It is hard to be diligent and easy to be lazy.
In spite of that hard stuff, we had a lot of fun. We learned how to do a lot of exciting things that don't cost money. We explored several lakes, found some good ones, and some bad ones. We played in the pool. Peanut learned to swim and ride his bike. The kids earned free passes to Bunker Beach by reading books and we had a great time there.
I also learned that my children have great capacity for naughtiness and I have gotten to know the Sheriff's department a little too well. But there were blessings that came out of nightmarish situations even with that. I met resourceful people who helped me find a great babysitter for my kids, that all of my children adore and she is fair in her prices and flexible, as well as easy to talk to. I have made contacts within my office for resources to help me out with my ADHD son and getting help with some of his more difficult behaviors.
I have made new friends, strengthened old friendships, and gotten in touch with people from my past and have friendships that are rekindled. My sister has moved back to MN from Nevada and it is so nice to have all of my family within 15 minutes of my home.
My kids are growing and healthy. Only one needed surgery but that seems to have corrected the problem. He has had to learn how to eat slightly differently and we have discovered that the doctor was correct that he cannot burp or throw up, so this does cause him discomfort but if he slows down when he eats, eats smaller amounts of food and has a couple of snacks during the day, he is doing fantastic. My daughter has, as of last night, lost all of her baby teeth.
BB joined a basketball team and loves to go to practice and to his games and we are enjoying watching him play and cheer. He has the most cheerleaders on just about any given game day!
My baby sister got married. I played the triangles during her wedding march and read scripture during the ceremony. I missed her vows because Peanut had to "Go RIGHT NOW" but I got to see PH and Princess really cut a rug on the dance floor!
We were given two turkeys this year. One was HUGE and I remembered to take out the neck before stuffing it but I had to run it under hot water in order to get the neck out since it was so big, it was still partially frozen.
I learned how to make Turkey Wild Rice soup and Bullwinkle Chili.
I have laughed a lot. I have cried, thankfully, I have laughed more. Overall, it was a really good year.
In January, I learned that "Breaking up IS hard to do" but it is necessary and sometimes it is harder when it is all in your head then when you actually do it. But maybe I could have done it in person rather than over Instant Messenger. For that, I admit to a moment of Chicken-ness. Actually, I did not break off with NY in person because I was becoming increasingly wary of him and his response to me. I was not sure what he would do, how he would react and I was growing afraid. It turned out that I did have good reason to be wary because a few months later, when I decided to move out of the Forest Lake house and sever that financial tie to him as well, he began to threaten me and leave me nasty messages on my cell phone. Then in October, he had me served with papers for a lawsuit for back rent, repairs and various other monies he feels I owe him. Some I would agree with and some I would not. So, I think that perhaps breaking up via IM was the wiser course of action.
I learned that my family loves me very much but have a very weird sense of humor when my mother declared that I would be on a "Man-atorium" until further notice and the details of this declaration were slowly being developed as she went along, the rules added as she saw fit. And I learned in October, as did my sisters much to their surprise, that they will be the ones who will decide that the Man-atorium is lifted and I will be free to date again.
My Grandmother surprised me several times throughout the year by helping me financially. She really wanted me to get out of the FL house, so she gave me the money I needed for a deposit and first month's rent. Later in the year, she paid off two of my school loans. She is a real inspiration to me. She too was married to an abusive man, divorced him and went back to school as an older adult. She has risen above her challenges and is a very remarkable woman.
My children surprised me by adapting quite well to changing schools at the end of the school year. We started at Oneka Elementary right after Spring break in April. I learned later that there was a lot of information I missed out on as far as my daughter's transition to middle school but it all worked out in the end.
We had a bumpy summer in which I had to really pinch pennies, make very tough choices and learn some tough lessons about the importance of budgeting. I am still recovering from that but I have learned a lot of valuable things from that experience and even as hard as it was, I can't ignore the changes that have been made in me. However, I have come to realize that changing yourself, developing new habits and breaking bad habits does not happen over night. It takes a long time. It is hard to be diligent and easy to be lazy.
In spite of that hard stuff, we had a lot of fun. We learned how to do a lot of exciting things that don't cost money. We explored several lakes, found some good ones, and some bad ones. We played in the pool. Peanut learned to swim and ride his bike. The kids earned free passes to Bunker Beach by reading books and we had a great time there.
I also learned that my children have great capacity for naughtiness and I have gotten to know the Sheriff's department a little too well. But there were blessings that came out of nightmarish situations even with that. I met resourceful people who helped me find a great babysitter for my kids, that all of my children adore and she is fair in her prices and flexible, as well as easy to talk to. I have made contacts within my office for resources to help me out with my ADHD son and getting help with some of his more difficult behaviors.
I have made new friends, strengthened old friendships, and gotten in touch with people from my past and have friendships that are rekindled. My sister has moved back to MN from Nevada and it is so nice to have all of my family within 15 minutes of my home.
My kids are growing and healthy. Only one needed surgery but that seems to have corrected the problem. He has had to learn how to eat slightly differently and we have discovered that the doctor was correct that he cannot burp or throw up, so this does cause him discomfort but if he slows down when he eats, eats smaller amounts of food and has a couple of snacks during the day, he is doing fantastic. My daughter has, as of last night, lost all of her baby teeth.
BB joined a basketball team and loves to go to practice and to his games and we are enjoying watching him play and cheer. He has the most cheerleaders on just about any given game day!
My baby sister got married. I played the triangles during her wedding march and read scripture during the ceremony. I missed her vows because Peanut had to "Go RIGHT NOW" but I got to see PH and Princess really cut a rug on the dance floor!
We were given two turkeys this year. One was HUGE and I remembered to take out the neck before stuffing it but I had to run it under hot water in order to get the neck out since it was so big, it was still partially frozen.
I learned how to make Turkey Wild Rice soup and Bullwinkle Chili.
I have laughed a lot. I have cried, thankfully, I have laughed more. Overall, it was a really good year.
Bittersweetness
My little peanut is really a sweetie. I wish his brothers could see what a darling he is but they see him as the annoying little brother who sings or talks incessantly and not the cutie who is imaginative, inquisitive and energetic. To them, he is the Destroyer of Lego Creations, Inept at All Playstation Games and The One Who Cannot Speak Correctly.
Someday, I pray, they will see him differently.
Today, I caught a glimpse of his heart and it touched me deeply and as I thought about it, once again, I arrived at work with my make-up a mess and my eyes red from crying.
Over the last few weeks, he has been mentioning my ex-fiancee’ a lot. Or as he is known in our house “The One Who Shall Not Be Named”. BB is very adamant that there is to be NO discussion EVER about him. Clearly, we have all been hurt and we each have to deal with our pain in our own way. BB would like to forget he ever existed. PH never talks about him. Princess just sighs sometimes. Peanut tries to bring him up and shares his memories, only to be shot down by BB with a sharp, “You must not talk about him. Ever.”
I had an opportunity last week to talk with BB a bit about Peanut and some of the things that Peanut will have to deal with. Peanut has never met his real Dad and because his Dad is in prison for a very long time and most likely will not be up for parole until Peanut is grown up, a meeting is not going to happen. PH was pretty much a baby when we fled from Texas. So, he has very little memory of his Dad but he does have pictures. But even though Peanut has never met Dad, I explained, does not mean he does not feel sad about it. It does not mean he does not feel the loss too. In some ways, he may feel it more or at least very differently because he has never known his father.
So, my fiancee’ was the closest thing Peanut had to experiencing what life could be like with a Dad. And in “The One Who Shall Not Be Named’s” defense, he was very loving to Peanut (not so much with BB or PH). So Peanut did develop a bond. And because he was just 5 when I broke the engagement and BB was so adamant that this was never to be discussed in his presence, Peanut has not really processed the grief.
Over the last few weeks, he has said things to me like “NY (the other nickname) loves Jesus now, Mommy.” He knows that this is a serious requirement for a relationship with me. I thought that was sweet.
Darling, NY always loved Jesus. That was not the issue. He did not know how to love us and treat us all kindly. He did and said things that hurt Mommy and it was not a good relationship. I know it hurts.
Then this morning, Peanut woke up before any of his brothers and he and I got some Mom to Boy time. He mentioned TOWSNBN again. So, I asked him if he was missing him.
“No. Not really.”
Well, sweetie, if you do miss him, it’s OK. He was very sweet to you and I know you really loved him and were sad that he left.
“Mommy, I don’t like that my Dad went to jail.”
And there is the dagger that stabs me in the heart every time.
Aww, baby. I know. It’s a hard thing. You were born here in MN and your Dad was in TX. You never got to meet him. That is a sad, sad thing.
So, maybe in his 6 year old way, he is moving through his grieving process. I am also trying to help my other kids understand that grief and loss is not the same for everybody. We all have lost the same person but our experiences with him are very different and our feelings are different too. We can’t, therefore, tell each other that they can’t feel this or they can’t feel that or throw it in each other’s face that they never met him.
Am I doing a good job in explaining this to them? I hope so. I think it is good that I am even making an attempt. It is hard for me to choke back my own pain and grief to deal with theirs. I have come a long way. There would have been a time when I would not have been able to have had this kind of conversation with any one of my children without bursting into tears and running from the room or without feeling anger boiling up inside of me. Today, what I felt was the sadness in my little boy.
I would do anything to take that pain away. I can’t do that, I know. But if I could, I would in a heart beat. So, instead, I will just hold his hand and help him walk through it.
I realized this last week that I have healed a great deal because I find that I am better able to handle the pain and sadness of others. I can take my eyes off of myself more and more. Last week, a friend of mine lost his dog when he was hit by a car. When I found out about it, I was overwhelmed with sadness for my friend. I wanted to just run over and wrap myself around him and his two sons and take away the pain. I don’t know how many times I cried for my friend and his grief over his dog. I pondered it for days. Why did I cry this much over an animal I had only met a few times? He was a sweet dog that was sure. But he was not my pet. I finally figured out it was the pain my friend was going through. I wanted to comfort him. I wanted to take that pain away or do whatever I could to make it better.
It still confused me for a while. This was some very powerful emotion for me. And it was bothering me because I have not felt so deeply about other people in such a long, long time. My sisters told me a year ago, when I broke up with TOWSNBN, that I still had healing to do because I was still throwing myself into situations where I really did not belong, doing things that were not healthy for me and making decisions that were not good. They worried about me. This was why my Mom put the “Man-atorium” in place and gave the key to my sisters—to protect me and build in some accountability for my decisions. I can’t jump into a relationship or even go on a date unless I have the permission and the “man-atorium” lifted by my sisters. I chuckled at first, when my Mom told me about it. I thought it was cute. Then as time went by and I realized she was serious, I was kind of mad about it. How dare they do this to me? I am 37 (and a half), surely I can make decisions about my life and who I can and want to date.
When I search my heart and look back, I sigh, and realize, they are right. I have not had a great track record. I have reacted and been impulsive and ignored my good judgement. I let emotion rule over good sense and intuition.
How does this tie in to my son’s grief and crying over my friend’s dog? I think it has to do with a change that has occurred in me over the past year. I am healing at a different level now. I have moved from being very self-centered and self-focused to being able to see others outside of myself and the things that are going on with them.
Does this mean I am going to cry over every sad story someone tells me? I don’t think so. But I do think that it means that God has a plan for me and it extends beyond my own skin. He wants me to see others. He wants me to be able to feel the hurts of others. He wants me to be able to reach out and offer comfort to those who are hurting because that is what He provided to me when I needed it the most. The table is turning and I am moving out of one who is in a constant state of need to becoming a person who can meet the needs of others.
I think I am going to cry again. And I am totally OK with that.
Someday, I pray, they will see him differently.
Today, I caught a glimpse of his heart and it touched me deeply and as I thought about it, once again, I arrived at work with my make-up a mess and my eyes red from crying.
Over the last few weeks, he has been mentioning my ex-fiancee’ a lot. Or as he is known in our house “The One Who Shall Not Be Named”. BB is very adamant that there is to be NO discussion EVER about him. Clearly, we have all been hurt and we each have to deal with our pain in our own way. BB would like to forget he ever existed. PH never talks about him. Princess just sighs sometimes. Peanut tries to bring him up and shares his memories, only to be shot down by BB with a sharp, “You must not talk about him. Ever.”
I had an opportunity last week to talk with BB a bit about Peanut and some of the things that Peanut will have to deal with. Peanut has never met his real Dad and because his Dad is in prison for a very long time and most likely will not be up for parole until Peanut is grown up, a meeting is not going to happen. PH was pretty much a baby when we fled from Texas. So, he has very little memory of his Dad but he does have pictures. But even though Peanut has never met Dad, I explained, does not mean he does not feel sad about it. It does not mean he does not feel the loss too. In some ways, he may feel it more or at least very differently because he has never known his father.
So, my fiancee’ was the closest thing Peanut had to experiencing what life could be like with a Dad. And in “The One Who Shall Not Be Named’s” defense, he was very loving to Peanut (not so much with BB or PH). So Peanut did develop a bond. And because he was just 5 when I broke the engagement and BB was so adamant that this was never to be discussed in his presence, Peanut has not really processed the grief.
Over the last few weeks, he has said things to me like “NY (the other nickname) loves Jesus now, Mommy.” He knows that this is a serious requirement for a relationship with me. I thought that was sweet.
Darling, NY always loved Jesus. That was not the issue. He did not know how to love us and treat us all kindly. He did and said things that hurt Mommy and it was not a good relationship. I know it hurts.
Then this morning, Peanut woke up before any of his brothers and he and I got some Mom to Boy time. He mentioned TOWSNBN again. So, I asked him if he was missing him.
“No. Not really.”
Well, sweetie, if you do miss him, it’s OK. He was very sweet to you and I know you really loved him and were sad that he left.
“Mommy, I don’t like that my Dad went to jail.”
And there is the dagger that stabs me in the heart every time.
Aww, baby. I know. It’s a hard thing. You were born here in MN and your Dad was in TX. You never got to meet him. That is a sad, sad thing.
So, maybe in his 6 year old way, he is moving through his grieving process. I am also trying to help my other kids understand that grief and loss is not the same for everybody. We all have lost the same person but our experiences with him are very different and our feelings are different too. We can’t, therefore, tell each other that they can’t feel this or they can’t feel that or throw it in each other’s face that they never met him.
Am I doing a good job in explaining this to them? I hope so. I think it is good that I am even making an attempt. It is hard for me to choke back my own pain and grief to deal with theirs. I have come a long way. There would have been a time when I would not have been able to have had this kind of conversation with any one of my children without bursting into tears and running from the room or without feeling anger boiling up inside of me. Today, what I felt was the sadness in my little boy.
I would do anything to take that pain away. I can’t do that, I know. But if I could, I would in a heart beat. So, instead, I will just hold his hand and help him walk through it.
I realized this last week that I have healed a great deal because I find that I am better able to handle the pain and sadness of others. I can take my eyes off of myself more and more. Last week, a friend of mine lost his dog when he was hit by a car. When I found out about it, I was overwhelmed with sadness for my friend. I wanted to just run over and wrap myself around him and his two sons and take away the pain. I don’t know how many times I cried for my friend and his grief over his dog. I pondered it for days. Why did I cry this much over an animal I had only met a few times? He was a sweet dog that was sure. But he was not my pet. I finally figured out it was the pain my friend was going through. I wanted to comfort him. I wanted to take that pain away or do whatever I could to make it better.
It still confused me for a while. This was some very powerful emotion for me. And it was bothering me because I have not felt so deeply about other people in such a long, long time. My sisters told me a year ago, when I broke up with TOWSNBN, that I still had healing to do because I was still throwing myself into situations where I really did not belong, doing things that were not healthy for me and making decisions that were not good. They worried about me. This was why my Mom put the “Man-atorium” in place and gave the key to my sisters—to protect me and build in some accountability for my decisions. I can’t jump into a relationship or even go on a date unless I have the permission and the “man-atorium” lifted by my sisters. I chuckled at first, when my Mom told me about it. I thought it was cute. Then as time went by and I realized she was serious, I was kind of mad about it. How dare they do this to me? I am 37 (and a half), surely I can make decisions about my life and who I can and want to date.
When I search my heart and look back, I sigh, and realize, they are right. I have not had a great track record. I have reacted and been impulsive and ignored my good judgement. I let emotion rule over good sense and intuition.
How does this tie in to my son’s grief and crying over my friend’s dog? I think it has to do with a change that has occurred in me over the past year. I am healing at a different level now. I have moved from being very self-centered and self-focused to being able to see others outside of myself and the things that are going on with them.
Does this mean I am going to cry over every sad story someone tells me? I don’t think so. But I do think that it means that God has a plan for me and it extends beyond my own skin. He wants me to see others. He wants me to be able to feel the hurts of others. He wants me to be able to reach out and offer comfort to those who are hurting because that is what He provided to me when I needed it the most. The table is turning and I am moving out of one who is in a constant state of need to becoming a person who can meet the needs of others.
I think I am going to cry again. And I am totally OK with that.
Monday, January 5, 2009
I almost forgot...One more
I will develop all of my 35mm film which includes the 16 rolls in my desk drawer, the 2 disposable cameras and any further rolls of film I may take this year. I currently have 8 rolls of film that I can load up in my camera and shoot away.
I miss my digital camera. But I can't say that I hate my SLR...it takes awesome pictures. And someday, I will switch over to a digital SLR.
I miss my digital camera. But I can't say that I hate my SLR...it takes awesome pictures. And someday, I will switch over to a digital SLR.
Resolutions…
I don’t know if I really like making resolutions. But I do like turning the page on the calendar and feeling like I have a chance to start fresh. Instead of making resolutions, which seem to be made on January 1 and fall apart by January 10, I have been thinking about things I would like to work on or do differently this year.
I have been listening to some people on the radio talk about how to set goals that are more likely to be achieved. The first is to be Realistic. The second is to be Specific. This did get me thinking and I changed my stance on “My Resolution is to make no resolutions.”
**I will increase my level of healthiness by incorporating more veggies and fruit and less processed food into my diet. It means more cooking from scratch and more planning ahead. But that is not such a bad thing.
**I will increase my level of healthiness by getting more exercise and doing more active things with my kids. I take the stairs whenever possible, walk across the far end of the parking lot and run up and down the stairs at home, rather than making one of the kids fetch things for me. And I will use my pedometer. In the spring, I will take walks in the evening with the kids or bike rides.
**I will become more financially confident by being more mindful of my finances and applying the things I am learning about giving, saving and spending and setting a realistic budget. I have already started some very good behaviors like using cash for certain expenses like my daycare, gas and groceries. It keeps me in check.
**I will tithe regularly and have set my goal that I plan to achieve by the end of the year, with incremental increases planned through the year until I get there.
**I will save regularly following the same plan as my tithing.
**I will learn to relax about relationships and enjoy the friendships I have and try not to worry about whether or not I will find love and romance. I will quit mentally fighting my family’s “man-atorium” and accept that they are trying to protect me and help me heal and learn from my mistakes.
**I will continue to attend Bible study as it is offered at church and find a suitable guide to study on my own so that I can continue to grow spiritually.
**I will add devotions to our evening dinner routine.
I think that is a good list. I have covered spirituality, health, relationships and finances. I don’t think there is anything on that list that is not unreasonable or unrealistic. And since I have this down on paper, it will be interesting to see at the end of the year just how I did.
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