...as a single mother, you question your actions, word choices, and time available. You question the quality vs. the quantity of everything, the meals you feed, the laundry you fold, the ability to multitask. It all comes to a rearing head when you add another thing to do in an already chaotic house of misfits...
Upon asking Nora to feed our new found four legged friend, she looks in the cupboard for the bowl and the food and utters, "...Well, who the hell put that up there?" I'm standing next to her as she's saying this. For a brief minute I don't know whether to be horrified or impressed by her use of the word. She said it with meaning. She used the correct meaning. It sounds like something I would say, and now appears I shouldn't say...and it's not even 7:15 a.m.
We have learned a large lesson in the last two weeks. While the addition of a dog to our family was not a whim, as I have been considering it since last Christmas, it has come with it's ample amount of obstacles. I have had a dog before...but never a dog AND four kids. I was hoping to instill some life lessons on my children by giving them a chance to take on some added responsibility. I originally figured, if we've lived this long and have done pretty well for ourselves, why not add another to the mix? Turns out, I probably should have really thought that through a bit further...as apparently, no one likes to walk the dog at night in their pajamas...no one likes to pick up random "gifts" left for us around the house...no one wants to put in the effort after a long day at school?...what? Really?
It came down to a discussion of who is doing more and whether they even want to do it. Ironically, the smallest Small is the one doing all the work along with me. At one point, in this very egalitarian conversation, Atticus states he misses the old days with no dog. He then stands up, walks across the room and sits next to me...as if to give a gesture of SOLIDARITY...it's a moment I won't forget. Time will tell if this new addition will be temporary of permanent...I haven't listed her as living her with the post office just yet.
The trials and tribulations of any family are something you are to learn from. The constant questioning on my end, self job evaluation, will be on going because if I stopped that's when I should probably be worried. With the holidays starting up, I'm noticing little things through my kids eyes. It reminds me that all of the pointless things that I do for them, that seem to go unnoticed, really are remembered. And for a moment, you can hear them recanting a story you once told about something in their hand...it's a nice invisible hug.
While going through some Christmas boxes I came upon these forgotten cards. One Thanksgiving after we had moved here I wrote up these cards for each of the kids. On each card I wrote the reasons I was thankful for them. I started reading them, and almost started crying. For all the days that I feel like I'm drowning, barely making it work, no longer care the profanity that comes either out of my mouth or my kids...On this day, when I sat down to write out the simple things about my kids that I love...I got it right.
Being reminded that you are surviving, thriving, at times swearing, is something that I don't think you ever stop needing. That reassurance that something so simple can build you up when you probably need it the most. The house hasn't burned down...I probably need to shower...this damned dog might kill my will at times...But I am forever grateful, knowing that my blessings are counted by 4s.
Tuesday, November 24, 2015
Tuesday, November 3, 2015
...I want a new drug...
I don't care who knows it...I loved Huey Lewis and the News. My first record was their 1984 album Sports. I knew every song on that album word for word when I was 10 years old. Lately, a song has been playing in my head of theirs...unusual really as you don't hear a lot of them these days. It wasn't until the other day when I was confronted with a statement from Nora, the song's lyrics made sense.
Nora walked in from school, put her book bag down, and said, "Mom, we need to talk..." I turned and looked at her. With the most serious face she says to me, "...Mom...I don't know how to tell you this...you're a drug addict, you drink beer and coffee..." I asked her how health class was today, and then told her that I don't really drink beer. She then asked,"...what about the coffee, it's a drug you know?!" I told her that I was a single mother of four, and if she could walk into the grocery store and buy what I drink in the pre-dawn hours of the day, it wasn't a drug.
Saturday it will be 3 years since Jason has passed. At times it is a struggle to try and remember what life was like. Other times, it's as easy as blinking. I've had conversations with my kids. The Talls told me that they don't really remember what it was like with their dad here. I told them that the daily routine wasn't worth remembering half as much as just things about Jason. While it terrifies me to be that open with them, I'm grateful at the same time that we have some sort of dialog open. Some have extended dialog, others would rather retell me fart jokes than deal with 'feelings'. We are at a strange interchange. At times I am left wondering if what my kids are going through at times is grief or just adolescent bullshit. Are they dealing, or do I just want to take drugs to deal with them?
There is a stunning lack of notion of the phrase ROLE MODEL in this house. The fact that Nora and I are outnumbered by boys is bad enough. When you add the tiniest member to the Merry-Band-Of- Weirdos? That's when I hit the wall. I realize that no one thinks it's cool to be a role model anymore, but at this point I've contemplated paying for that service in this house. The way you treat others is a direct reflection on how you want to be treated...(crickets)...the golden rule...(crickets). I swear to Mary, Jesus, and Joseph if you teach your brother or sister to say that limerick, ever, I'm letting the Amish pick you up on Tuesday!...seems to get the point across, for a while.
It's strange, but I always wondered what 3 years would look like...when I couldn't even begin to understand how I would make any of this work. I wondered if we would get our act together. I wondered if it would be easier, more light hearted, less painful, normal. Who knew that the answer to those quandaries would be yes and no...to all of them at any given time. In the beginning I had my habits, my methods, my time alone to quietly deal with stuff...that time is few and far between anymore. Things that once helped me through aren't working...to quote Huey Lewis "...I Want A New Drug..." Figuratively speaking of course.
Today, I was given a compliment that I probably will never forget and I don't think it was even intended to be. A dear friend that I have made here in Canton told me that even though she really never met Jason, she feels like she knew him based on us...our family...the stories we've told...how we interact...and that Jason had to have been a great guy, he picked me to spend his life with. It made me not wonder where we'd be in 3 years, but grateful where I have been and where we have been in the last 3 years. The way we've grown, things we've done, and how very far we have come. My heart aches for my kids, rather routinely, that they don't have this one person missing from their lives. My mind reaches to tell them stories they might have never heard before about their dad. My soul knows that no matter how I would have planned my life, this is how it was supposed to be, lucky enough to have known and loved, blessed beyond measure from the beyond, and forever grateful for the stories that come with it...and yes, at times it has come with a bourbon.
Nora walked in from school, put her book bag down, and said, "Mom, we need to talk..." I turned and looked at her. With the most serious face she says to me, "...Mom...I don't know how to tell you this...you're a drug addict, you drink beer and coffee..." I asked her how health class was today, and then told her that I don't really drink beer. She then asked,"...what about the coffee, it's a drug you know?!" I told her that I was a single mother of four, and if she could walk into the grocery store and buy what I drink in the pre-dawn hours of the day, it wasn't a drug.
Saturday it will be 3 years since Jason has passed. At times it is a struggle to try and remember what life was like. Other times, it's as easy as blinking. I've had conversations with my kids. The Talls told me that they don't really remember what it was like with their dad here. I told them that the daily routine wasn't worth remembering half as much as just things about Jason. While it terrifies me to be that open with them, I'm grateful at the same time that we have some sort of dialog open. Some have extended dialog, others would rather retell me fart jokes than deal with 'feelings'. We are at a strange interchange. At times I am left wondering if what my kids are going through at times is grief or just adolescent bullshit. Are they dealing, or do I just want to take drugs to deal with them?
There is a stunning lack of notion of the phrase ROLE MODEL in this house. The fact that Nora and I are outnumbered by boys is bad enough. When you add the tiniest member to the Merry-Band-Of- Weirdos? That's when I hit the wall. I realize that no one thinks it's cool to be a role model anymore, but at this point I've contemplated paying for that service in this house. The way you treat others is a direct reflection on how you want to be treated...(crickets)...the golden rule...(crickets). I swear to Mary, Jesus, and Joseph if you teach your brother or sister to say that limerick, ever, I'm letting the Amish pick you up on Tuesday!...seems to get the point across, for a while.
It's strange, but I always wondered what 3 years would look like...when I couldn't even begin to understand how I would make any of this work. I wondered if we would get our act together. I wondered if it would be easier, more light hearted, less painful, normal. Who knew that the answer to those quandaries would be yes and no...to all of them at any given time. In the beginning I had my habits, my methods, my time alone to quietly deal with stuff...that time is few and far between anymore. Things that once helped me through aren't working...to quote Huey Lewis "...I Want A New Drug..." Figuratively speaking of course.
Today, I was given a compliment that I probably will never forget and I don't think it was even intended to be. A dear friend that I have made here in Canton told me that even though she really never met Jason, she feels like she knew him based on us...our family...the stories we've told...how we interact...and that Jason had to have been a great guy, he picked me to spend his life with. It made me not wonder where we'd be in 3 years, but grateful where I have been and where we have been in the last 3 years. The way we've grown, things we've done, and how very far we have come. My heart aches for my kids, rather routinely, that they don't have this one person missing from their lives. My mind reaches to tell them stories they might have never heard before about their dad. My soul knows that no matter how I would have planned my life, this is how it was supposed to be, lucky enough to have known and loved, blessed beyond measure from the beyond, and forever grateful for the stories that come with it...and yes, at times it has come with a bourbon.
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