nonchalant and nude

...that day when it's gone to the crapper before 7:50 in the morning...there's been snark, whining, arguing, smack talk, and it's seemingly endless. It's the day when even a silver lining is swearing at you in another language. It sucks to pretty much start a day, when you know you might not get it together fast enough to turn it around...

Finding it increasingly difficult to reinforce certain things in this house. Maybe it's because I'm not much taller than those who live here. Maybe it's because doing double duty is exhausting some days. Maybe my kids, knowing they have me on the ropes, secretly want to see my loose my shit. Maybe it's my never ending scourge of wanting/needing to know that I'm not screwing my kids up. I no more than think this, when I am greeted by a naked two year old, nonchalantly saying "...hey mommy, what are you doing?"

What ever the reason, my quest to try to raise clean, healthy, upstanding humans out of these kids leaves me at times feeling like a failure. Puberty is just around the corner, with every passing day, seems not to matter how old I am, I KNOW NOTHING. My street cred is gone. The sum of my parts and the sum of their parts do not add up. What would I know about cleansing? What would I know about body odor? What would I know about personal hygiene in general? For that matter what do I know about anything, (getting ready for a direct quote) "YOU GREW UP IN THE 80's!" That's when I no longer have a filter...and end up saying, when your butt stinks, it doesn't matter the decade!!!

It's been pointed out to me that I'm in a pressure cooker 24/7...and I admit it, I probably put myself there. It's still no less terrifying. And some days, I cannot put into words how overwhelmed I am. Some days it feels like the day is never ending. Some days the rut one finds themselves in is more like a canyon. I just wish for one hour, their dad could come back and reinforce anything I've tried to tell them over the last 2 years. For one hour that they would intently listen, reminding them that I am all they have, and I might actually be able to teach them something. However, a wish like that is futile and simple minded. I know it's up to me to keep trying, and hoping for the best.

This is just my routine rant. This is my cycle that I go through. This is sadly not the last time. I'll think to myself, I've had it and I'm exhausted. It's not the last time I'll have to squint to find the silver lining. It's the notion of the finish line. Like if I knew where this was all going to go, if I could see the finish line, maybe it would be easier? Sure, it would take the adventure out of life, but a tiny glimpse of what will be...well, it might make turning today around a little easier.

...smiling with your eyes...

It's that time of year again...the cold is upon us, the slippers come on, the holiday music has started on the satellite, and the urge to put out all my Christmas stuff is just beneath the skin. Not sure why this year I've wanted to skip from Halloween to Christmas. Maybe it's because we like to decorate. Maybe it's because I need a project. Maybe it's because it all seems to come and go so quickly that I want it to last longer...I think doing things like these with my kids has helped us. I think letting them be a part of these traditions has given them a sense of appreciation for this time of year. And I'm grateful for it.

There has been one constant for the last year...I've only actually mentioned him once, but he has been so much a part of our life. He has been my sounding board for lots of things. He was a single parent too, and he understands my frustrations. He appreciates me for who I am and isn't intimidated by my need for control, he recognizes it's how it all works for me. He is quick with a joke, a compliment, a laugh, and a smile. He tells hilarious stories and when naming people in them he always gives their first and last name. He is a fantastic cook, and isn't afraid to get into the kitchen, tell me to sit down, and take over. He loves to listen to music and quiz me on who sang it. He has been more than just a 'plate spinner' for me. He has shown me how much one person's heart could be so very beautiful. And I'm so very grateful for him.

The best thing about him...he loves my kids. He walks in the door and four voices shout out BEN!!! He isn't bothered by piggy-back rides, discussions of Pink Floyd and ACDC, or getting routine bear hugs from Nora. He is eager to teach them games, listen to their jokes, and steps in when my patience is wearing thin. He lets them snuggle on him, climb on him, and basically attack him. He has taught them the art of smack talk while playing Uno, quick counting for Yahtzee, the proper spiral on a football, and the best way to crack eggs. All the while reinforcing that to him, they are important.

Being the voice of reason (terrifying I know) around here 6 days a week... I look forward to the weekend. I look forward to him coming in, and seemingly everyone is in a better mood than they were before. I couldn't put it into words until yesterday. We were all sitting on the living room floor, minus Atticus who needed a court sanctioned nap. Uno was the deck of cards being dealt out, and the smack talking had begun. Cards in hand, I looked up and noticed something...everyone was smiling with their eyes. Do you know what that looks like? To me, it's one of the most beautiful, wonderful, meaningful things to see. Someone so happy, having so much fun, that their faces can't just contain it...I was grateful to see it, and figure out how to put it into words.

We have been blessed to have this person come into our lives, love us, make us feel special, remind us that we are kicking ass in life...no matter how much the kids hate dinner. We have been given this gift of a person who understands our personalities and appreciates us for it. I feel like I am right where I need to be when he is around. Unlike the holiday season, I'm not worried how quickly this moves. I'm looking forward to seeing where it goes..all the while loving the view, smiling with my eyes and grateful....

...chicken or beef?

...it's the same song, the same dance. Shopping with children, 4 children to be exact is hectic. It's only a luxury I rarely take to shop alone. Shopping with kids? I take it on as a challenge, with a cocktail medal at the finish line when we are hopefully all back in our home safe and sound. The freak outs, tantrums, arguments, battle of wills...and that is all before we reach the check out lady.

It's a mental battle field...choosing words wisely, strategy and how to get out of the store before DCFS is tipped off. You know the game, and you are willingly playing it because, the kids have to eat, wear diapers, and you are needing to stock your liquor cabinet...the whole process must be done. The freak outs are inevitable. You plan for them as best you can accordingly, like an army ground crew needs a medic, and hope you can charge the front without casualties. However, the best freak outs are those that are some how etched into minds forever in infamy. Only spoken of again in "hushed reverent tones" as a warning of what was one fateful day...

I've learned a thing or two in 10 years. You would never hear me utter "...what would you like for dinner (or any other meal)". This only loosely translates into me being a short order cook or lousy with money. I offer them one thing when we are out. It's an easy out for myself and it is ALWAYS veiled with the idea of look how fun/lucky/yummy/adventurous/fortunate/etc. this could be. But, it seemed this day, it was my turn for the freak out.

I blame Wal-Mart. I think it is a vastly unused form of criminal punishment for anyone to take 4 kids to Wal-Mart on the first of the month or on a weekend. I dare you, DARE YOU, to make it out unscathed. After offering a lunch option I thought would be a viable, not to mention a good diversion from the nightmare that I already lived shopping...it was shot down...laughed at...and thinly implied that didn't I have thousands of dollars to take them out to eat? The only honorable thing I managed to do that day, was wait until I got into the car before I lost my S*#T...it was calm toned, slightly bitter, but dripping with sarcasm.

On the thirty minute drive home they kept asking "...what's for lunch?". I ignored them. They even tried to imply that my freak out was possibly my fault, they each wanted something different. I turned up the radio, to quiet the voices in my head. While driving, I realized it had been a while since I lost it. The fact that these kids were dictating to me what MY next move would be? NOPE, NOT TODAY...where was Wonder Woman's lasso of truth when you needed it?

About halfway home, I pulled into a Wendy's parking lot. Immediately, as if I was already taking their lunch orders, they started calling them out to me as if I were wearing a name tag and a headset. "I want the giant-super-sized-mega-burger-$12-meal-blah-blah-blah". I put the car in park. I turned off the radio and very calmly said, "...your only choice is chicken or beef...you are not paying, so you will not be ordering..." The just looked at me, slack jawed as if I were speaking in another language. This is where calm left. In a rattled, shaken, mom of four voice I managed to shrill yell, CHICKEN OR BEEF?!?!?! I ordered, we pulled back onto the highway, and it was the quietest, most contented drive I have ever had.

Today, in my own home for lunch they were each asked chicken or beef noodles-yeah, I'm a culinary wizard. One of my precious angels turned and said "...well, what else is there? I don't want that..." I repeated the same thing I had before, chicken or beef? Oscar looked up from what he was doing and said in a hushed tone "...for the love of all that is holy, just pick one! Don't you remember last time?" Then suddenly, as if forgetting I was still in the room, he looked up at me. I couldn't contain it, I started busting out laughing...then I heard Abe yell out CHICKEN! Glad to know this freak out left an impression, completely convinced it won't be the last...

...more than just a Mellencamp song...

Home is where the heart is...It takes a village to raise a child...Beauty is in the smallest of details...Small towns are rife with interesting stories, big hearts, and people who know more about what goes on in your house than maybe you do.  The 'big city' people in my life understand it, but not fully. When talking about the cons of living in a small town they use words like "lack of opportunities, experiences, diversity". To me those things are possible anywhere, just slightly defined a little differently. To me I feel some cosmic connection not only with this house, but also with this town.

I have to admit it, there has been a love affair going on in my life for quite some time...I've written about it, possibly to the point of ad nauseam. But since November 8, 2012 there has been a constant in my life, this house. I still walk around in it, looking out the windows, the doorways, the tiniest of details and I love it. It's given me a scare here and there, but I feel like it's more than just a house. There's a presence here...there's history, life, maturity...all before I even moved in. You can feel it when you walk in the door. It's like we've lived here forever, and thankfully it sort of envelops you like a warm hug. It's a mystery to many who live in this little town, as all the previous owners, once here stayed for decades. I was paid a compliment a few weeks ago when a life long resident of this tiny hamlet told me that when she drives by our house now, she no longer thinks "there's the (insert previous owners name) house, I think of it as the Hunt House" With that comment, she made my heart smile.

Small towns get a bad rap. I'm not sure if it's because people don't understand them or if it's because once in them you can't really hide. I've never understood that. What in the world are YOU doing that you would be so bothered if your neighbors know? I use the term "Mayberry" quite often when describing this place, but I do it out of love. I do it because in my minds eye, that black and white existence was uncomplicated, caring, slightly pie-eyed, but genuine. The time was simpler. The notion of people looking out for you shouldn't be such a foreign concept. My kids can play outdoors, go to the park, and ride their bikes to school with each other. Bonding at its best and without me hovering over them to shield them from what 'might' happen...as in this town, everyone is sort of looking out for everyone else. Yeah, that really sounds like a crappy place to live, huh? Each person is as colorful as the next. This town is the stuff that great stories are made of. It's small enough that it has its characters, eccentrics, odd-balls...but everybody in the town knows who they are, and are willing to let you in on who is who. While they might be annoying, these people are accepted for who they are, as that's how it always has been.

I say all this, not with a lack of experience. I've lived in big cities. I've understood their beauty and willingness to entertain not only your eyes and ears but your soul as well. Some of the best experiences of my youth were in big cities. I'm so very glad/blessed/fortunate to have been able to have such experiences. One place I was lucky enough to live I was surrounded by 8 different nationalities and still be with in crawling distance of a pub. That my friend is living! For me, maybe because I'm older, possibly because I'm less adventurous, definitely because I'm outnumbered, I wouldn't change where I am. The most prolific quote about a small town is one I've read by Joyce Dennys from Henrietta Sees It Through: More News from the Home Front 1942-1945

“Living in a small town...is like living in a large family of rather uncongenial relations. Sometimes it’s fun, and sometimes it’s perfectly awful, but it’s always good for you. People in large towns are like only-children.”  

And so, my love affair with this in inanimate object continues. It's walls of which we live in I feel forever lucky to call home. Our predecessors here, while not visible, are felt and appreciated. As for this little hamlet, I'm so grateful for this 'large family' that has taken mine in. Always noticing what we are up to. Willing to wave a greeting, or even shout from a school bus when driving by our house. Lastly, making us feel like we are part of something more than just that of a small town...

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.

...Buddy the Elf, what's your favorite color?

The holidays mean a lot of different things to people. Some approach it crazed. Some meet it with sadness of those who no longer are at their tree celebrating. Some see it as an over marketed, over produced exercise in glutton. Some use it to their advantage...knowing how a little piece of the holidays always warms their heart in a way that nothing else the rest of the year can...I am all of these...

I'm not alone in this. I was just brought to realize my slightly crazed Christmas obsession. I feel like I enjoy the simple things. The music. The lights. The little things that have become simple holiday traditions. Advent calendars, Elf on the shelf, setting up a nativity, and simply just decorating...it's all the things I enjoy, but seeing my kids get all 'twinkly'-THAT'S why I enjoy it! Hearing one of them walk into a room with a tree lit, and 'oooh and aaahh'. Noticing that the Christmas dishes are out and asking for hot chocolate in them. To me, it's worth being slightly crazed.

Last year, we decorated this beautiful house for the first time. We didn't have any traditions as to where to put this or how to hang that. We could enjoy what we had to put out in an organic way, for the love how it made us feel, hopefully lifting our spirits. And for me, that was a blessing. Christmas last year was hard enough. Looking back on it now...those decorations, those lights, etc...it was a form of therapy. It was like a blanket we could snuggle down into, and for a moment see just what was in front of us. Not think of what was behind or ahead of us...I wondered this year it would change? Would it be the same sort of feeling?

We lost a lot of Christmas 'things' this spring when our basement flooded. They were just 'things'...the absence of which wouldn't ruin our Christmas spirit, just depleted our stash is all. And, let's face it, after realizing that Atticus chewed most of our Christmas tree garland last year (who really needs a dog when you have this kid?), the less-is-more-approach is where we are going to have to be for the next few years. We decided that if we couldn't decorate with ornaments this year, we'd deck the place out in lights and work with what we had left. I was proud of these kids as we pulled the little trees they had in their rooms last year out of storage. They were exited to get them out, and didn't want to change them.

However, it should be said, their excitement is displayed in such unique and different ways. Oscar, while last year decided he knew the truth, has gladly kept the 'secret' and I think finds slight satisfaction with the fact that he's in on the secret of Santa. Here's hoping that lasts. I think he can see what I see in the little ones. He knows that the magic is in seeing someone believe, even in we don't exactly believe it ourselves. It reaffirms, and warms the heart. He has already outlined the movies we should be watching in the next 27 days...allowing a couple of black and white ones for me-that's a compliment...considering he asked if they were made when I was his age...eye roll here.

 Abe, is the closest living example of 'Buddy the Elf' from the movie Elf. He not only eagerly WANTS to decorate, he does it prancing around wearing a Santa hat from the day after Thanksgiving until Christmas Day. He is very nearly the picture of a kid who, while he's added up what's going on, he still believes in Santa, because to him it really is magic. He's like an old man this time of year, telling the little ones stories about all that happens from now until Christmas. He's quick to want to keep our simple traditions that we have had going, with never tiring excitement...makes all of the things this 'secret Santa' does completely worth it.

Nora, true to form, likes to talk for 3 months what she hopes Santa will bring her. She starts about the day after her birthday. Then, about the time you have been sent the order conformation from Amazon.com, the list changes. UHG! Meanwhile, she has taken to practicing singing her Christmas medleys in the bathroom. A little Bing, Autry, Ella, Burl Ives...I think she's still working on her encore piece. I've caught her talking to herself. I've asked her, "Who are you talking to?". She gives me this crazy look and says (with this hey, dumb-ass look on her face), "...I'm talking to Santa from my heart". She walked into our backdoor tonight squealing with delight, seeing the tree we put up today lit in the dark for the first time. Her eyes this time of year are extra sparkly, and it is adorable!

Atticus...he is everywhere. Playing with knives, decoding doorknobs, and at this point can fashion a ladder out of almost anything. Today, I caught him sitting in a small wooden sleigh we have for books. He looked at me in such a way saying, "Seriously, what is the point of this, I can barely fit...". If I could ask Santa for anything...it would be to calm that damned kid down before I possibly lose my mind...it could be any time now really. I have to remind myself, in two Christmases, the terrible twos might be over? How different it would be to not have to have canine hearing while going to the bathroom...But, the upside of this kid-Christmas will make sense this year. And, I have a feeling his gift to all of us, will be watching him completely freak out on Christmas morning.

I sit here typing with the holiday satellite music channel quietly playing, I'm a cheap junkie, I admit it. I have one more day until my 'jobs' for the month start. Hiding candy in the advent calendars. Finding some damned place for that Elf to hide, something akin to navy seal training for me, sneaky kids! Saint Nicholas Day treats...it's the one time of year when you can be magic for the sake of a smile, squeal, or giggle...that's my Christmas gifts from my kids every year...no scissors, entire roll of tape or paper required...

...I wish I was a little bit taller...

...it has come to this. I was hoping I would have had a couple more years until it materialized. It is an on going struggle of any parent trying to raise respectful, well mannered children. Children that seem to know more than any human walking the earth (Steven Hawking rolls, remember)...let's just say, I've approached some difficult ages. I was just expecting to see them 5 or 6 miles down the road. Problem is, the sign says buckle-up, it's the law...but wouldn't that inhibit me from flinging myself out of the vehicle properly?

I don't remember 'thinking' I knew so much at their age. At the age of 9, I still believed I had a sister named Sandy in the army (a very long story) and Santa...what a chump I was. A few of my kids, seemingly, know everything. Have an argument for everything. Enjoy debating everything. It's like an undeclared Olympic sport here on 815 Washington. It is exhausting. It is infuriating. It makes me look more longingly than I should at the liquor cabinet. Today, during one such debate/argument/confrontation, Nora walked into the room and said, "Positive in, positive out...". Schooled by a four year old...

It, especially today, has me mentally repeating the refrain of Skee-Lo's "I Wish" in my head..."I wish I was a little bit taller...".

I won't believe that I've come to the point that my word, unless yelled, means nothing. I won't believe that I will lose control of this house, and be steam rolled once again...but sometimes I believe all of that. Damn it, I KNOW I didn't speak that way to my parents, because I didn't ...I had two parents. I had the yin and yang that balanced it out. I love my parents, and when I was a kid there was a little fear there when necessary, which is what is sorely lacking in this house. That, and the ability to hear what I say, the first time I say it...I know, I shouldn't want a miracle.

So, here I am...while I already have the deep voice, I'm wishing I had an extra foot and 150 pounds on me to subdue the unwanted behavior. I wouldn't be able to fit into any of my pants, but it would almost be worth it! When you are no more than 25 pounds heavier than your oldest child, you're not really a threat- it's a lateral move. I wish that somehow, I could perfect a snarly glare that would declare "I'm not to be messed with" without saying a word. That's a tip you'll never pick up in a parenting book.

Even though I might fight the good fight in trying to raise respectful kids, it's not always winning the argument that declares the winner. There will always be debates. There will continue to be disagreements. The belt winner in these such matches, aren't either one in the ring. The winners are the ones who can walk into the room, like a chatty 4 year old, and basically tell you that you're both full of shit, and quiet down her show is on...and the issue is resolved, for now...

...not a red flag, but a red badge...

Sometimes this 'pleasure cruise' is not one I actually want to be on. Sure, I find the humor in the little things...Mainly because no one would believe them, and because they keep me from the liquor cabinet. I try not to whine, or carry on about feelings, I don't seek out situations to be sad or upset. I tend to run from them, as I see it as a waste of my time to be miserable...Make no mistake, Mother Nature makes sure I have a nice melt down a couple of times a month, I'm no cyborg, but that's not really anything new.

Then there have been times in the last months or so when I've realized that there is nothing worse than not knowing how you are supposed to feel. You have no idea what emotion you are supposed to display? My life has slightly become this messed up equation, of which I have avoided math most of my life, ironic, huh?

The equation is run down as such...knowing how you feel divided by (*/*), how others feel. Multiplied by (x,) how your true feelings might elicit judgment plus (+). How you might hurt others by what you are feeling, minus (-) the fact that life is hard enough...Equals feeling tired, stressed, and just wanting to get on with real life, or something you see that is better just in the next room, if nothing else. Math, it sucks, right? So, what's the answer? How do I show my work on this problem? Can I just skip it and go on to the next? I took some advice, and I did...but it's time for some unvarnished truth...

So, here's the thing...it's easy to write about my kids, they are hilarious, and take the edge off of my side of the story. Their ability to trudge through this new life has been an inspiration to me...but I needed more. I needed to talk to an adult...someone who didn't know my present/past, someone who didn't know all about me...because in reality, I've had to start over. I was someone before I became a wife and mother...and I had to sort of find her again. So, that was my mission. Talk to people that I could just be Kate to first, then if they were worth talking to they would hear my whole story...because, let's face it, nothing kills a room like, "Hi, I'm a widowed mother of four...".

But, oddly enough...I met this person. He asked all these interesting questions...at times questions I had never even asked of myself. They weren't prying. They were questions that really spoke of who I was, much like the person asking. He asked about Jason, in a way that wasn't sad, which is unusual.  He didn't fear what I had been through, he admittedly admired how I had handled it, and how I was coping. He is interested in my past, curious about my future. He said to me recently, "...it must be hard to find Kate Van Gilder, she's been away for a while..." and he's right.

I forgot how nice it was to feel appreciated. Worried about. Heard by another adult, a cheerleader... He laughs at my jokes. Listens to my parenting woes. Gives me advice. And thankfully, understands that it's overwhelming at times...and usually tells me to write about it. He is this warm, sweet person, who cares what I'm making for dinner, and wants to know how I drink my coffee so strong. He is the first to message me in the morning, and the last at night. My life has become better after meeting him...he understands me in a way that I never thought I'd find again, and sorely missed. Of course, I'm sure he sees me as a widowed mother of four, but it's not a red FLAG to him, it's a red BADGE...and that is priceless.

Thus, we are back to the equations again...the part that I keep getting hung up on is other people's perceptions. There is a strange fraction of people in this world that either, want to see you miserable when you are not. OR they want to see you happy when you are miserable...I guess, the weird thing is, it's not for them to choose. I have to remind myself...While I don't want to hurt anyone, or let anyone down, my happiness is for me to choose, and I don't believe in coincidences...While every day isn't a' pleasure cruise', I feel like I've been given a gift to be happy again...and while on this cruise, I'm at the bar wanting my $9 souvenir cup refilled...