...just finished my shift at San Quinten

Kids misbehave, it is a part of life. It is how they learn boundaries, sense of self and right from wrong. Sounds like a load of crap, I know, but it is what it is. I remember when I didn't have to play both good and bad cop, I was a lot stricter when it came to the rules. I was like a drill sergeant, and while it probably looked like I just finished my shift at San Quintin, everyone was more or less well behaved. And then I became outnumbered...

But, as time pressed on I was sick of being a witch all the time, so I learned not to "choose my battles." I loathe that phrase. It basically means, sorry, while you know you are right, your child will be allowed to act like an ass-hat on this occasion. I'm not having that. I moreover just used avoidance and deaf ear, knowing that they knew they were acting like ass-hats, why should I have to remind them? From time to time, I would have to walk into my room alone and do a routine of silent obscenities and rude hand gestures, get it out of my system and start over. It was a system that worked for a while, but with age should come wisdom, and when that doesn't happen, the bulldog comes out of me.

As my kids get older, the things that they are into of course have changed. Any honest, like brutally honest mother, should admit that technology sometimes is a double edge sword. While you know it might be rotting your precious offspring's brain, isn't it quiet? Isn't it a nearly-spa-like-setting-quiet when kids are engaged on an electronic device? At times you just need some damned peace and quiet that board games and kids playing outside just cannot compare to. So, it builds-your dependence and theirs on this form of entertainment. But, like I said, as my kids get older, this form of entertainment has also become public enemy number one when it comes to punishments. If you are old enough to be on said devices, you are old enough to do what you are told...until you don't.

So, a few things happen, things are said and jobs are ignored, I let it slide. Meanwhile, the internal powder keg brewing a special concoction of dealing with adolescence and old lady hormones. And then it blows! The normal punishments just seem mundane, it's time to go all in in this poker game. Hell hath no fury like a kid that gets pulled off electronics here. I can only equate it to possibly getting put in solitary confinement as my kids portray it. Is it really that bad? No. Is it really more of a punishment for me? Yes. Is it really apparent that this punishment cuts them off at the knees? OH YES, and that is why I continue it.

It's like watching a sociological experiment, like I'm watching PBS in my house. The first day, they sort of walk around aimlessly, as if they don't know what to do with their hands. It's like watching someone come down off drugs, confused/angry/erratic. I give them a list of busy work to occupy their time if they choose and they just look at me, dumbfounded. The second day, still not knowing what to do with their hands, seems to bring on some emotion with it. I hear people complaining of "looking" at each other. People start infighting for really inconsequential situations. While I know this isn't killing them, I also pray they are actually learning a lesson. Cut to me, chuckling from the laundry room as I hear the noise of kids actually arguing about where they are putting their legs on the couch. It's as if all of their senses are now heightened, and it's hilarious. They make it to school, only twitching a little

The real problem wherein lies with the fact that half of my precious offspring are as tall as I am. There is nothing thing worse than losing viable credibility when you have to look up at someone while you are having an argument. Where are the articles on parenting to giants but still feeling like the adult? Oh yeah, I haven't written them yet. So, the saga continues. While I now work a different shift at San Quinten, my job title has been slightly altered but I am still within the same pay grade. Misbehaving won't get you out in 5 to 10 on good behavior, but it will have your electronics snatched for an unspoken amount of time...have a great weekend.

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.

...the moon and back...

The moon is full...no I mean, REALLY FULL. I heard today that the moon is the fullest it's been or will be in a while...triggering unrivaled emotions, odd behavior, and mood swings. I would have normally said, "...sounds like your average day here". Then I started thinking. It made clear sense...almost eerily so.

While the nudist colony still stakes claim here, I've taken it upon myself to dress Atti in MANY layers. By the time I find him trying to get 'as nature intended', he's usually only two layers in...we've negotiated on socks, they are now optional. However, I made it very clear that some day, the orange jumpsuit will be mandatory, enjoy his freedoms now. He laughs, and runs away, usually finding the most pointy object he possibly can find...fourth kid.

The moon's lure did not surprise me in this house. Emotions have been running high for a few days, about very little on the surface, which usually means there's more there but no one is wanting to talk. I even found myself if a fury of things to do today, and then duly noted to myself, get ready...it's your turn next. Not sure if I can blame this on exhaustion, or just another family event tomorrow. At any rate, it hit. Tomorrow Abe's birthday...It's hard to imagine, as it seems like yesterday he was born. As with any holiday, I try extra hard on the kids birthdays to make sure it is as it has always been...but sometimes I wonder if it's enough.

I am very careful about talking about Jason with them. I don't make a big deal out of it, he's part of our vernacular. However, I try very hard not to pry into what they are feeling. Not because I don't want to know, I'm always wary of picking a scab. I'm always wondering, if I say too much is it just going to make them feel worse? I try to constantly and subtly remind them that there is always an open door, when they want it, it's there. But, there are times when I don't have to remind them...they really have no problem of saying it, I'm not the one they want to talk to.

I wish I knew a way to describe Heaven...at least to a four year old. I wish I could just say Guam...at least I could tell her where it was at. I'm asked the same questions routinely. I've read all the books to her. I've quoted Maria Shriver, Elmo, and the kid who died and came back again. Even though I give the same answers every time I'm asked, I know she keeps asking because it's not really the answer she wants, hoping I'll just crack under the pressure. She so desperately wants what she cannot have. It comes in waves, and currently it's high tide.

Then I have one on the opposite end of the spectrum who cannot put it directly into words, but he's just mad. He can mask it at times, but when things don't seem to be going his way, look out! I thought I had a fairly menacing glare, but this kid has nothing on me. I know he's scared, and I can't make him talk until he's ready. So, until then...I enjoy the occasional look of , "...I really hate you...". Last night I called him on it. Told him that while I know life is hard, I'm afraid he's stuck with me. If he was planning to move out, make sure to clean his room before he left.

Then there is Abe, who turns eight tomorrow.This kid that seemingly is right on the cusp of being ornery. He is so full of love. No seriously, the kid would do anything for anyone...willingly plays with the Smalls...he'll run down in the middle of the night to let me know Oscar is sick. He usually does what he's asked to do, THE FIRST TIME. In this house, that's the equivalent of a superhero/mythical character/ someone from the Box Car Children (Abe's newly disclosed favorite books). He is quick with his humor, he loves with all of his heart, and he is a spirited ladies man...heaven help me.

Sometimes, the things that really haunt me, aren't always for me, but for my children. The things that they don't get to have that so many of their friends might take for granted. Everyday I'm sure they miss what they had...even if they've done a lot of living since. Everyday, I try to fill in the gaps of what they might missing. But, let's face it, I'm fighting a ghost. I'm the one telling them to clean their room. I'm the one telling them not to set bad examples for their siblings. I'm the one who can't fully explain why you can't see heaven. I'm the one who can't help them remember an exact time they had with their dad. I'm the one who gets to see their faces the first thing when they wake up...and sometimes it stings, knowing mine isn't the one they wish to see.

I know my kids love me. I know that I have tried hard to keep some stability/routine/sanity here for them, even when I myself was about to lose it. Cut to me, frosting a birthday cake today, thinking do they even know why I do this? It doesn't matter, because I do it for them. The moon, yeah, it caught up with me tonight. For a moment, I was taking out the trash, and before I knew it I was emotional. How much has changed in eight years.  How different our lives have become. Life doesn't give you what you want. It gives you what is supposed to happen. How you survive it is up to you. Me? While it's been a while,  I've become adept at hiding tears...

...when the bad cop messes up...

...all any parent can ever want is to hope that at some point they understand their children. Whether it be the babbling toddler who is yelling they want something, but you have no idea what 'GAB TATG' means. Whether it be the drama queen 4 year old, who has to throw a birthday party everyday with decorations for her stuffed animal. Whether it be the overly verbal 7 year old who talks faster than his mouth will allow, constantly making me ask, 'Pardon?'. Then there's the quiet, slightly self indulged 9 year old, who keeps most everything to himself, which is an oddity in this house...he keeps it to himself, until he just can't....

After an evening of wondering if something was wrong with my quiet 9 year old, asking rather fervently if everything was okay, and getting, '...yeah, I'm fine...'. The night ended however, with the ever going debate of why he wasn't allowed to do something. I thought I answered it correctly, still asking him if something was wrong. No? Good....until Abe came down to tell me that Oscar was planning to run away....hmmm.

I quickly formulated a plan, my slightly pathetic '80s cop drama version of 'good cop/bad cop'...at this point I'm not sure if I'm Cagney or Lacey? I walked in the room, looked at him and said, "...well, sport, if you're planning to run away, you'll need a bag,(opening his closet door) I wouldn't bother packing pajamas, you'll probably just have to start sleeping in your clothes. I guess my best advice would be to pack light, and have a couple of clean pairs of underwear..." To which I walked into another room to find a backpack. I came back and he was steadily pulling out shirts from his drawer...bad cop messes up.

I came back into their room and asked him to sit down. I asked him if he knew how hard it would be? I asked him if he'd thought this out? I asked him for seven reasons to run away. If he could give me seven, concrete reasons, who was I to stand in his way of happiness? While he was thinking, I told him that I needed to remind him of something. He had no place to go. He had no money. He had very little street smarts. He had no job....and if he left, it would leave a horrible hole in our family.

I told him, that in actuality, if he thought it was his turn to run away...to get in line, it's not. BUT, I haven't ran away, I haven't given up on us, and damn it, if any one earned that right it was me...but I haven't, I'm sticking it out...the least he could do was stick it out too. So, still blankly staring at me, I asked him if he could tell me what he wanted, maybe I could try to help/fix it? This kid is stone cold. He doesn't let his emotions show. With this one question, his eyes started welling up with tears...finally, he said..."...I just want a DAD..."

I told him, I didn't blame him. I told him I would be pretty sick of me, and that's all I pretty much wanted for him too...not a replacement, but someone to fill in the gap in his heart that is missing. I had to lower the boom, that it took me six years to get married the first time. The look of exasperation on his face was priceless. I told him that the one thing that this house sorely NEEDED was patience. Our scale isn't just low on it, but we have sunk backward into negative double digits. But, the beauty of this whole thing is, our hearts are telling us that we are ready for a-dare-to-be-great-situation...what the future holds might be frightening, mainly because it's unknown, but it also can be exciting to comprehend the possibilities of what wonderful things might happen.

The conversation was ended by me asking for the final time of the evening, if he was okay and if he'd sleep on the decision to run away, at least until he had a game plan...to which he said yes. I told him, all I really want for my four gifted monsters, was a normal life again, but it was just going to take some time. The last thing he said to me was a 'would you rather'...which I thought was interesting...Would you rather have a mean husband and a million dollars, or a nice husband and a thousand dollars? To which I told him that was a no brainer, a nice husband is worth a billion dollars...