thank you Smelma...

Honestly, I don't know what is going on with me, but I am off. I'm not sure if it is because I've been sick on and off since Labor Day...maybe the cocktail of steroids and antibiotics are rotting out my ability to be normal? Maybe it is the fact that it is dark outside by 6 p.m.? Maybe I've just finally hit that point, you know where on-lookers are saying, "Yup, I called it, she's lost her shit...now give me the 20 bucks you owe me." Whatever the case, something has been looming for too long...and I want to be rid of it.

This time of year, well completely sucks. No matter how you slice it, it is a stale piece of cake no one really wants. Usually I give myself a couple of days and I'm done. But much like the steroid cocktail that I have been on and off, the boost of energy is fantastic-but when the bottom falls out you wish you were hit by a truck. So, tomorrow is another day, and as I am finding out, one of my favorite days to write about in the past- Parent Teacher Conferences.

Luckily this year I only have one, Nora. I am mentally preparing myself for the wild and exhilarating things I will no doubt hear about my only daughter during her off hours of being with me. She has grown so much just since school has started this year. She has discovered the "wonders" of making a sack lunch. While at first she was usually telling me she needed one whilst walking out the door in the morning, now she comes home from school and immediately starts making her lunch for the next day...I like that kind of growth. I am interested to hear what her teacher has to say, but of course mentally preparing myself as well.

My hope is that I can fill my kids with enough creative ideas and a little bit of creative expression that they can use it to help themselves when needed. It used to be when I was down, I would put everyone to bed, come into my room, write and everything would be back to normal. Sometimes, it just isn't that easy anymore. Sometimes I feel like I am complaining about the same thing over and over again. Sometimes I worry that this is the wall, like THE WALL that I have finally hit and maybe there is no way around it. It is scary. No one wants to move backward, not when they can see how far they have come. No one wants to admit that the things that used to come easily to them are now a struggle. No one really understands you, better than you...but what happens when you are the last person you understand? What then?

A woman who works where I work stopped me today and asked me if she could buy my book. I looked at her probably crazy-eyed and said, "What? ...I'll give it to you." I think I was half astonished that she even knew I wrote a book, and for a moment I kind of had forgotten I had too. It seems like a million years ago, when in reality it was like a minute. I thanked her profusely, and thought to myself, "Kate, get your shit together. You have a job to do, and you will get out of this funk." She was the first person I spoke to on my first day of work and probably will never know how grateful I am to her for sort of nudging my psyche.

It wasn't until tonight, the whole creative expression thing sort of hit me where it needed to. I was talking to Atticus before saying good-night to him. He told me that he had an imaginary friend. I asked what his name was, to which he said, "Her name, is Smelma Stinkyfeet." I said, really, is she Slavic with a name like that? He said, "No, she's from Knox, Ind. Smelma's not good with money, so to make ends meet, she has taken in a couple of horses to live with her. Her house isn't very big, but the horses help pay the bills." I dawned on me, funks come and go, but if you are lucky, creativity can stay with you forever...thank you Smelma.

...just keep swimming, just keep swimming...

It's October...and the litany of all things fall/Halloween commence. My kids love this time of year as much as I do, even Oscar today said, "Where are the fall books? I need to read some, I'm just in the mood." There will be cookies to make and pumpkins to carve and costumes to try to put together. I am grateful that my kids are still "into" these things, as I know they won't be forever. The October 1st tradition is to watch It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. As it was starting, and we were all together, I looked at every one of my kids and I touched their arm. It seemed odd, but it was like I was caught up in the moment. We have been watching this movie for as long as I can remember, for some of my kid’s whole lives. We laugh and we recant our favorite parts, it's like a secret tradition that we have always somehow kept.

So many things are happening at once it seems like a whirlwind. Some things are great while others are challenges. Nora learning to ride her bike finally seems like a rite of passage. And as promised, she got to ride to Casey's General Store for doughnuts this morning. Instead of following her in my car like I did the first time she rode her bike to school, I went along for the bike ride. She is FAST! I had a hard time keeping up with her. As I watched her this morning, I envied her lack of fear. I watched her, albeit cautiously, peddling downhill, seemingly flying and thought- ah, to be seven again. I'm proud of her for facing her fears, just wish she had a slight fear of speed at this point.

The sojourn of being a single parent at times is more than difficult. No matter how others offer to help, it is just not the same. Perhaps it is my control freak tendencies, maybe it is habit, or maybe I'm the only one who really knows these kids behind closed doors. Like the saying goes, they're good for company. Sometimes it is what goes on when there aren't any witnesses that are really truer than the sometimes-fiction they portray for others. The pangs of seeing a kid who really needs their father, a sojourn I never signed up for, but we'll get through it. Like I said, people have offered to try to step in and be that person, for which I am grateful, but it is just not the same. They will know when they are ready to speak up about it, until then I wait…and of course worry.

I am going to be more honest right now than I probably ever have been. After Jason died, there was a time when I just hated him. I hated him for leaving me a single parent. I hated him for never showing me how to do some things. I hated him for not being able to see how our kids have grown. I hated him, hated him, because somehow it took the sting out of missing him. If I could be angry at him, I wouldn't miss him. The fact of the matter is, he was my best friend and I loved him. He was a good father and a good person. Sometimes I just miss talking to him, asking him for advice or some sort of reassurance that I am doing the right thing, or saying the right thing. I'm outnumbered by people in this house who don't have the same parts as me...and sometimes that terrifies me. I miss my friend, the other half of my children, who gets them as much as I do. I no longer hate, but I hope that I am doing the right thing by him.

The last four years have seemed like a decade. My mind goes back to all the things I didn't appreciate at the time, the moments I didn't pay enough attention to or the things I didn't coin in the moment as special. Sometimes they can still knock the wind out of me. While these kids at times drive me to drink, terrify me and give me endless laundry and stories, I know that they are some of the strongest human beings I know. I marvel at how sometimes things just come together... In the middle of chaos driving down the street, Atti cheering out the window to Nora while she rides her bike,"Just keep swimming, just keep swimming." Mean while the boys show their less than stifled embarrassment to merely be seen with us...I see how far we have come, but sometimes I miss the one who isn't there to laugh about it with me.