...heir to the thrown...

This is a cautionary tale... A letter to myself, not today but more like two years ago. Also, this is a reminder to anyone reading this, life is fleeting. Not in a "dooms-day" sort of way, more like an "enjoy-every-moment" kind of way...even the ones that aren't enjoyable, as those are the times you learn the most about who you are.

I was going through a couple of boxes today. Their whereabouts have been known for over a year, I just hadn't ever gotten around to getting them. The contents of which came from Jason's office. His day to day "stuff" he had cluttering his office. Pictures he had on his wall, frames he had on his desk. The rouge plate and fork that had gone missing from my cabinets years ago. DVDs he would play during a boring work day for background noise I suppose. Pictures the kids had drawn him over the years. Nothing on the surface that is that mind bending really, but clearly I was avoiding going through this stuff. In doing so, all I could notice is what was missing.

I met someone the other day I had only ever known via Facebook. He had been high school friends with Jason. He complimented me on how he thought I was doing. He remarked that I always seemed to have a positive outlook on life. I told him thank you, that it always wasn't that way. I figured I should have to PAY a copay for a therapy session, and told him in reality I might owe him money. It's interesting to what degree perception has when you look at life. His comment lifted me up, and for a moment I reminded myself to ponder that when I'm just about to have a Mommy Dearest moment.

The grief I go through isn't for myself. I've said that many times, and I only hope I can convey what I mean. It's like trying to fix something that isn't even there, doesn't exist to the human eye. My grief, my struggle just isn't for me. I suppose I feel like I have so many years of memories, that I don't have to strain to conjure them up. For my kids, it's completely different. Today I was reminded of that fact. Today, I thought to myself, wouldn't it have been therapeutic to be able to tell myself two years ago what I would need right now...so here goes...

"Dearest Kate~ It's me, I'm you...older, wiser, more tired, more caffeinated you. I don't want to spoil the details of what your life will be, so I'm giving you some advice. Take it.

You are going to think this is crazy...take more pictures! No, I haven't been hitting the bottle. Take more pictures of the kids and their Dad. You wouldn't believe the stunning lack of pictures...of anyone with Jason accept the heir to the thrown, Oscar. His picture has been over taken, but seriously, there are three other kids in this house aren't there? They need to have a ton of pictures taken with this man, if for no other reason that to just spark up some memory. Who cares if you're having a good hair day? You aren't someone they will need to remember, you'll be all they see and it'll drive you AND them crazy.

Make memories for these kids. Some day soon, all you will be able to think of is the 'should-haves' that never happened. Then your mind will think of the 'would-haves' that could have happened. Then lastly, when you are seriously wrecked, the 'never-got-to-haves' set in...and well from there it's nearly rock bottom. Your memories are yours forever, but the ones your kids have, well they are fleeting at best. With every passing day, a scant picture doesn't bring back what was there, and it gets harder for them. Those memories, I hope will help them rally through the dark days.

Remind yourself that you have GREAT kids. They will be your rock and your reason for living even more than you would ever think at this moment. Someday it will just be them, and you need them fiercely. Involve their Dad in your routine with them more. Yeah, he might want to watch the game and yeah, you are a control freak. But, when you are asked in years to come how HE would read a bedtime story? And you come up empty answered? It sucks in such a way that is maddening. Also, on the 'maddening' theme, lose your shit once in a while. Doesn't make sense? Well, there will be times when people nearly EXPECT you to not be on your A-game...so lose it. Your controlling ways may help you out, but honestly, you won't get a prize later for 'holding it all together' when you had the chance...I'm just saying.

Lastly, pick yourself up, keep those legs shaved, and the cocktails coming. You have absolutely no CLUE what life has in store for you...I'm just merely amending your life's guide. Like you seeing yourself from behind in a department store mirror, hindsight isn't too lovely in that light either."

Lousy with power?

The morning dialog, usually occurring about 7:57 am...Today it was the 'Mom vs. Abe Battle Royale'
"It's cold out, you have to wear hats..."
"What? Why? Can't we wear hoods instead? I don't want to wear a hat..."
"It's hat weather. It's cold out. I don't enjoy living at the medical group. And lastly, I'm lousy with power, put a hat on..."
"I can't find my hat, I guess I'll wear a hood..."
Cut to me pulling a hat out of the basket, and handing it to him.
"Wait, that hat? I don't want to wear that hat?!"
"Tell that to the hat you lost, we are waiting on you, let's go..."
Meanwhile, all of this is transpiring in front of the neighbor kid we give a ride to school, who rarely wears a coat and never wears a hat. Ironic?

Upon dropping the fellas off, I see Abe and tell him to put his hat on. As they are walking away from the van, I'm watching them from my rear view mirror. Watching. Watching. Keeping my eyes fixed on Abe. He looks around chatting it up with his friends. And then it happens...he looks around one more time and as he is crossing the street, he takes the hat off. It's that moment...the one when you realize, we're there...

We are there. The point when you see defiance, in its simplest form I realize, happen. When the kid who usually follows the rules, goes sneaky. I know this is small. But it's the turning point I guess that stings a little. It's the never ending battle of trying to convince your kids that you are ALL KNOWING, ALL SEEING, ALL POWERFUL. I've had a couple of instances before when the Talls act like rum-nuts and I shock them with my 'powers'. It's hard to convince kids that you were one time one of them, you know the game. It's hard to make them understand that the sneakier they are, there is a little trust that is chipped away.

So, in that moment my heart sank a little...I know I have good kids. I know they are going to pull crap like this. I know this is merely the beginning of the hijinks that will ensue in the next 15 years. I know when they are in school they probably act like ass hats just like other grade school boys. I guess, I just hadn't mentally prepared myself. I needed my Tuesday dose of reality, other than 'Pants off Tuesday'. The only good thing about any of this? I have 6 hours think about how I'll deal with it. Contemplating finding every hat in the house and having him wear them tomorrow...Still kicking things around...However hilariously, as I'm writing this Atticus decided to go into the kitchen and turn on the garbage disposal, scaring the crap out of himself. Score one for the ALL KNOWING, SEEING, AND POWERFUL!

...the vaguely awesome cover band...

There's something about leaving your familiar surroundings and changing it up a little. I never used to be this way. I would rarely go out, voting for mom wear, watching TV on a Saturday night. Home is where it's comfortable, right? I'm not sure if it's because I'm out numbered here. I'm not sure if it's because I don't have enough adult interaction during my day to day. I've said it before, and I'll continue to say it...sometimes you have to go away for a little while to appreciate where you are...

This could mean a multitude of things. Mentally checking out? Yeah, I'm guilty of that at a certain time of day. At times about 45 minutes before I actually should. Sometimes it's getting engrossed in a project that is special to you. Sometimes it's closing the door, turning off the light and being able to hear nothing more than the sound of your own breathing. Then there are those times, when you have to get out of your mom gear. Jason used to always ask, "...who are you getting all dolled up for?" I used to say it was for him. But really, it was for me. You slap on a little make-up. Wear your high heels. Get out of your house and look forward to not only being with friends, but also talking to complete strangers.

Mingle with the people!...those who are over 5 feet tall. I was told by a psychic one time, the only way she saw me being able to really unwind is if I weren't in the solitude of my own room, but in a room FULL of people. I found that odd when I first heard it, but she was sort of right. She probably knew that already too. It's nice to escape, if for only a scant couple of hours. No one knows you are some one's mom. No one knows you do 2+ loads of laundry a day. No one is wise to the fact you can change a diaper with your eyes closed. No one knows that while you are busting a FAT MOVE to a vaguely awesome cover band, you are mentally calculating how you will drive by a gas station on your way home to get doughnuts for tomorrow's breakfast.

There's always a moment. That moment when I'm getting ready to leave the house. I kiss my kids goodbye, and look at them...really look at them. In that moment, I hope they know I'm better for having them. While I'm tired of their bickering, tattling, rough housing that day, and I started earning a night out before the sun came up. As soon as I cross the thresh hold out our door, I enjoy the silence, but sort of miss them already. Hoping they understand, sometimes I have to go away every once and a while to really appreciate where I am...

out of townees

Dinah Washington sang it, "What a difference a day makes..." Very interesting what 24 hours can do to your psyche. Feeling defeated in every aspect of my life. Then, waking up, attacking the day, knowing that if I do the best I can, is all that's really asked of me in this world. Maybe it's just a band aid, but I'll take it.

For anyone who has thought about journaling or blogging, it's worth it. It's like a visit to a therapist, without the copay. Writing has and is been my best way of getting through this whole thing. The act of getting it from my brain, out my fingers and onto a keyboard. It's like a mental cleansing. It is something that has to be felt, at times to the point of madness. Only to wake up one morning and feel like a new day, a new attitude, and new lease on life. And today, I'm not questioning it.

As always, Sundays give millions of reasons to write. Whether it be the ordeal of getting kids ready for church. The madness that ensues when you ask 8 and 9 year old to 'dress nice' (as if I was asking them to cross-dress). The endless toys/snacks/sippy cups/entertainment necessary to keep LOUD kids quiet...they only work so well.

Today, as every other Sunday, no one owns an inside voice. For some reason, Nora sees church as her venue to try out all her new material. Today, she quoted Pee-Wees Big Adventure twice. While anyone might think that is random, it's completely Nora. As the priest raised his hands in church (as any catholic would know, it's often) Atticus took that as if he was being waved at, him only. He continued to wave back and say, "HEELLOO!"

Snacks given out. Church pews thoroughly examined by Atticus. We made it to the end. Our priest always asks every Sunday if there are any people visiting. I hear a snicker behind me, and turn to see Nora. There she is, huge smile on her face, waving her hand in the air to his question. I turned to her and said, "...what are you doing?" She informed me that she really just felt like raising her hand.

What's the point? The point is that 24 hours can change a lot. There is a silver lining somewhere, you just have to try not to trip over it. And finally, anything is possible, if given time, hope for a better day and maybe just pretending you're from out of town. 

...No Soft Kitty...

I don't claim to be an expert in what it is that I am doing. I don't feel for one second that I know what it is that will happen next. I don't really understand the process of grieving, other than the fact that it is a process you have to let happen. Never skipping a step, as you are bound by fate to have to go through it one time or another.

I haven't read any of the books. I'm not proud of that. I've been given tons. With only the simplest of gestures from someone's heart to mine, I cannot bear to crack them. I am not sure if it is because I'm scared. I'm not sure if it is because I'm lazy. I'm not sure if it is because I lack the time. I'm fairly certain it's because I fear I'm going to be made to look at my downfalls over the last 16 months. Like kicking dirt over a hole, it just doesn't fill up the same.

I've been able to classify the stages of grief that I've been through so far. I've understood them for what they are and waited them out. Knowing the next one I go through puts me further through this whole thing. Fear, sadness, anger, isolation, resentment...not necessarily in that order. Now it seems I've cornered the market on 'my' next one...disappointment.

It sucks. It sucks to know that you have disappointed someone. It sucks to know that it can't really be taken back. Problem is, I feel like I'm at a crossroads. Once I would have tried to change myself to quell the situation. But, currently, I cannot. It's frustrating, as my only excuse is that "I don't know what I'm doing" doesn't make the situation better. It's infuriating to know that maybe you are your worst judge of self, but seeing it in someone else's eyes...it's cutting. I guess the hardest part is that meanwhile, you are living your life, knowing you are doing your best. But, it's part of the process?

I'm not looking for validation of what I do. I'm not looking for someone to 'Soft Kitty' me and tell me I'm a champ. I just want this feeling to go away. Far, far away, with the rest of these words used earlier in this process. I know it has to run it's course, however. I know that my actions effect others. I know that I will fill the hole eventually...maybe with dirt, maybe with liquor bottles.

Who is Gladys?

Life only gives you what you can handle...right? There are times when I think life is trying hard to get you to notice something, and you're missing it. As if capable of giving you a wedgie to get your attention. Instead life puts all these other subtle reminders up, hoping that at some point your ignorant a*^ will wake the hell up and take notice.

For me, I notice only the obvious things. I notice through my flaws. I notice through my failed attempts. If that doesn't work, it comes in the form of a question from my kids. This week, I've pretty much nailed all of the above...but what is it telling me?

The topics of discussion here have been interesting in the last two weeks to say the least. We've tackled bullying and how to stop it happening to you. Now, I'd like to say it all played out like an after school special? But I believe the direct quote I got was, "...um, no offence Mom, but things work differently now than they did in the 80's..." Um? Burn? But the discussion was lively and made me see that I'm raising some what self sufficient kids when it came to the topic. 80's? Really?

Next topic was poverty. Are we poor? I've been asked this before. Usually I give my standard answer of, "...we have each other, we are richer than money could ever make us..." But, the older kids get, the more they need to understand the value of a dollar, and also that I'm not growing money, like someone might grow cannabis in their basement. I answered this question maybe a bit too honest. But I explained that times were tough everywhere. The people who are undoubtedly "RICH" were actually few and far between. We are on a strict budget, and that's why some things people do all the time are a 'treat' to us. Life has to have moderation, otherwise noting is ever truly appreciated.

Cut to me, opening the church bulletin this Sunday at lunch. I scan it, reading the on-goings. To see that the parishioner the church is praying for this week...is me. I read it out to the kids, clearly not masking the surprise in my voice. Hilariously, even they were questioning it. Nora kept saying, "...we need to head over there and see what this is all about..." I'm taking that as a sign. However, it did scan my brain to wonder if I had indeed always worn my underwear UNDER my clothes. There was of course, the day-glow-bra incident...

Then this morning, as I was sorting out the dungeon-like Talls room, I missed a phone call from Gladys. Who is Gladys? Well, I didn't know her either. She called and left a message from "Women in Need", and would I please call her back at my earliest convenience. My first though was, what? Need? Yeah, I need a nanny and some booze. Couldn't be that easy, could it? Well, once I got a hold of Gladys, I told her who I was. She mentioned that she thought maybe her assistant wrote the number down wrong. I asked what it was her organization did. She said they assist victims of spousal abuse. Now, laughing out loud to this probably isn't something that Gladys usually hears, but seriously? I assured her that I was not in need of her organization...

Not sure I want to know what these signs all add up to mean. Was it a life altering alert? Or just a subtle nudge to remind me that the world is still turning and we're still on it? I'll be looking up for anvils and mindful for stepping over cracks for a while.

It's take your pants off Tuesday!

Well, I admit it. I was smug. I was cocky that we'd survived this winter unscathed with anything other than the need to make up games to entertain ourselves. You know, the ones that would possibly put us directly into straight jackets if we tried to explain during a psychiatric evaluation. We had survived this brutal winter with no sicknesses...until yesterday.

Ninety dollars and forty-five minutes in a very small examining room, you can do a lot of soul searching. Why my kids find it fun/necessary to think they have to strip down to get their throat examined? I have no idea. While the very patient doctor was asking all the questions she needed, her patients were listing every single thing that ailed them. I cannot be sure but I think one patient complained of fingernail sensitivity.

Meanwhile, Atti was tearing into anything that wasn't nailed down. Opening drawers, pushing buttons and inspecting the built in stirrups at the end of the examining table.  As I barricaded the door so as not to have a runner, it occurred to me that we were not going to be so lucky with this visit. Sinus infection, two cases of strep throat, and a skin eating bacteria...and it was only Monday? Not exactly sure if Atti and I have anything to diagnose yet. Fairly certain the CDC hasn't even classified what we may be brewing. We lie in wait...

This harsh winter has given many time to do a little soul searching. It's given the members of our "exclusive club of crazy" many goals to set for ourselves. You know, when we can once again venture outdoors without having to check to see if we are missing digits to frost bite. It has also, while at times maddening, found us acknowledging our triggers, our limits to lunacy, and the ability to laugh when basically there isn't anything else to do. When it's that cold, you actually have to stay indoors...and talk to each other! Foreign thought that shouldn't be, but it's true. I've told stories, heard stories, and we've made up stories. We've rearranged furniture, got creative with cooking (who am I kidding, mac-n-cheese is still a food group in this house). We've cleaned out closets, not dusted or mopped enough, but thoroughly discussed a garden.

Popcorn for dinner? Yes. While meagerly finding out guacamole isn't worth gagging over there have been triumphs. How else would kitchen-floor-spatula-Ping-Pong have been invented? Or the fact that while 'Take Your Pants Off Tuesday' is usually an afternoon event, Atti believes it isn't limited to Tuesday. The fun to be had with boredom will not probably be remembered a year from now, but it's how we are surviving. Well, a full liquor cabinet is helpful too...