...fight the power, not Jim Bauer...

Not sure if it was what I thought might be a rouge dirty diaper, which turned out to be a dead mouse? Or a crying Nora, coming to me to tell me that she was scared to go to heaven? Or the emotional charge that has been slowly filtering through this house for the last week? Like running your stocking feet around carpet in the winter, waiting to get shocked...There was no way around it, today was Father's Day whether we liked it or not...

I can’t help my hormonal tendencies, but it seems like Nora is now on board my crazy train as well… There are only so many emotional outbursts I can take, especially when I know I'm not really making a dent in the questions/concerns she has. About the time I think I've resolved something that is troubling her, in an instant she has another. Currently it's warts, pink insulation, scars, and not wanting to go to heaven...at least for this week. I'm grateful she willingly brings these issues up, yet stunted how quickly she can acquire them...

But the ones that really drive me crazy are those that never make it to the surface, sitting just below the skin, brewing. I can change the subject. I can direct the conversation in a million different ways…all in the hopes that my kids don’t remember Father’s Day is coming. I talked about it at different times, never really trying to make a big deal out of it…I guess sort of wanting to leave it up to how they feel…

Well today, there was little left for interpretation. They asked if we had to leave the house, meaning go to church. They made some rather valid points...stating we would go to church and hear all about how it's Father's Day. I think one of the Talls actually said, "...yeah, that sounds like fun?" We laid on my bed, sort of taking turns getting teary. The boys couldn't tell me why "exactly". Atti just kept looking me in the face saying, "...you crying? Mommy crying..." as if I needed reminding. Nora, it was a heaven/wart combo. I laid there wondering...wow, these kids are screwed on this holiday. They have grandfathers that they love, but it's what they are missing, the void, that can't really be filled.

They lay around me, and I can't help but hurt for them. I can't help but think of a word that I hate, fair. I hate that word. It's usually a word someone uses when they have no real notion of what it means. They use it, and then wish to gain sympathy from it. Someone who really understands what it means, very, and I do mean VERY rarely uses it. I fought my urge to just roll over and let this day kick us in the can. We weren't going to let it tell us what or how we should do things today. Of course, this is total lip service to my brain, but I just kept reminding myself of it.

I faltered a bit, as I was scanning the channels on the TV next to Oscar and I uttered, "...this is complete bullshit, let's go to church..." He sort of snickered. Hopefully, that's never embroidered on a pillow for me...not my proudest moment. The Talls were like oracles. Everything they said we would have to hear was dead on, though interestingly enough it was parlayed into a discussion of the World Cup. I started playing with Atti's toys, then counted everything in front of the church, twice. I actually thought about the hill just above our church. How going down it, screaming the whole way? We needed something like that today...the release! I got us to church. Get through church. Leave out the side door when it was over and get on with the day. I needed to turn it around somehow...we just needed to have FUN, any kind would do.

The pool...it was like some magic drug. It was like that water washed off all the crap we'd been carrying around for the last week. Jumping in, splashing around, seeing friends, feeling the warm sun on your skin...it was our release. It was finally something I could do...to finally turn this day around. They found a tree frog. They named him. They begged to take it home with us, carrying it around like some pocket pet they've had for years. It was nice to see them excited about something so simple...it was nice to see them really smile.

Only later, when I was I reading a friend's Facebook status, did I completely understand how to tackle this day from this point forward. Simply stated it said,

"...I say we re purpose Father's Day and Mother's Day...just call it Family Time...that's what it really should be"

Thank you so very much...

 

 

...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!

...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.