...over a dirty martini and a veggie tray

Some games you play, some you endure. Some have lavish hand gestures or overly complicated rules, and for the sake of your sanity you just end up making up the rules as you go. Life lesson there? Not really, but you shouldn't want to drink from a liquor bottle with a straw for some family game time, right? Well, maybe don't answer that right away. We have a lot of games in this house, physical and mental. With the physical everyone is eager at first, but usually only a handful want to take the time together and play. Then there is always that forever optimist who believes winning isn't everything...but damn, it feels good to rub it in your brother's faces when you do. Life lesson there? A very large one, but there are times in life when it is kill or be killed- the lesson is in knowing the difference.

The mental games are just the normal tug of the-fighting-for-independence-rope...when usually both parties would be eternally better off just keeping their mouth shut and nodding. I'm fully aware that you have an opinion, you are of course related to me, but I do not really need/require/yearn to hear it at 7:09 a.m., or let's face it anytime unless asked. I realize that your opinions matter, but loudly declaring them doesn't make them any more or less necessary, and that goes for myself and my offspring. The mental game is primarily that of: I am your mother. You came from me because I remember the day fairly vividly. My job is to take care of you, keep you out of jail, not injured, fed and clothed. When you are an adult, this mental game will hopefully end and you can screw your life up anyway you see fit. That is my gift to you, it's just going to take about 5-15 years until you get to open such a splendidly wrapped present. The lapses in judgement, they are all yours to own, be it in an orange jumpsuit or in a 3 piece suit. All I ask, is that you do not make them under my watch because not only does it make life tougher, but you will finally see that vein on my neck blow. My goal is to get those I brought into this world to learn to play the game by the rules, endure the mental games and be understanding when they chose not to...such things are not clearly written in the rule booklet.

This game we play...This game we endure, called life, is sometimes played dirty, sometimes gives you bragging rights and sometimes needs to not be overthought. This game, much like the Laverne and Shirley Game, basically goes on and on until you learn why you were put on this earth in the first place. Being a mother/woman/friend/human it is hard to relate some things to your kids. The old phrase, "learning the hard way..." comes to mind. You've seen the scenery, but you really wouldn't recommend it. I've made some bad choices, some obvious lapses in judgement. On the other hand I've made some great choices and taken some great risks in the quest for enlightenment and happiness, sometimes out of necessity and sometimes with the knowledge that I'm worth it. Life lesson there? Heck yes! It was individual and it was on my own terms. At the end of my game, it's going to be up to the Lord and I to sort all of that out. If it is anything line I imagine, I'm figuring over a dirty martini and a veggie tray.

Nature or Nurture...

A couple of years ago I heard a first time dad sort of half question how I do things in this house. He uttered a phrase that, to this day, sends a chill down my spine…”That’s fine, but is it nature or nurture?” Wait…WHAT? Who the hell are you to question the manner I run my house or that I was blessed with one child who willingly says to me, “I’m ready to go to bed.” I have never forgotten that statement and at times I want to find him (actually hunt him down) and ask him how his parenting is going. I would utter the fact that parenting, or ADULTING for that matter sucks at times. How I handle it, or anyone for that matter is relative and considering I haven’t yet picked my kid up from the county lock up, I say I’m winning! In the meantime, these are the things that I ponder on a daily basis. I’ll let you decide if they are nature or nurture…enjoy.

That look my cat gives me mid-day, when I walk into my room and find her laying on the bed. It’s a look that says, “That’s nice…would you please leave, I’m trying to sleep…”

The fact that my four year old MUST painstakingly remove all toe jam that he has before entering the shower, but cannot wipe the toilet seat when he pees all over it.

The attention to hair, second only to what Vidal Sassoon must have dealt with on a daily basis, but yet has to be reminded that deodorant is not an option.

The point that someone has to say, ever, do not crane kick your sister.

The moment your kids hear a song, and it is “their JAM!!!”

The great detail someone will put into a paper sweater for a stuffed animal, but loses all creative ability when faced with writing a thank you note.

The fact that you hear one child call another a control freak…you don’t know if you should be terrified or proud.

The fact that someone feels the need to dramatically fart.

That moment you catch yourself counting down to a night out, knowing that there will be nothing short of an apocalypse you will have to endure in the meantime.

The fact that you possibly wash and dry more Kleenex in the laundry than is actually used to blow a nose.

The ability to repeat any given thing you have said AT THE WRONG TIME but has no recollection of being told to brush their teeth.

The point where you no longer care what your Tupperware cupboard looks like, but become completely anal retentive to if there is toothpaste in the sink.

The fact that you know your 4 year old will leave more toothpaste in the sink than he ever got in his mouth.

The moment you realize the cat is STILL NAPPING…and become jealous.

The ability to justify going to a wholesale store at lunch time either for the $1.50 hotdog or the free samples to feed your kids.

The fact that my 4 year old could write his own chapter in the book The Art of the Deal.

The point where you are about to tell one kid to stop picking on their sister, and her youngest brother chimes in with, “You guys be quiet, she’s a BEAUTIFUL WOMAN!”

The point when one child appreciates another one’s talent, and actually says it to their face.

The moment when you realize that a magazine has an article on achieving the perfect “O” and you know the safest place for it is in the trashcan.

Having friends with no kids, not only because they are the breath of what your life once was, but further because they see all the things in your kids that you take for granted.

The fact that you know where your kids socks are but have no idea where your own have hidden.

The notion of a sticky residue on your floor, will always, ALWAYS be claimed by no one.

The point of the day when everyone is in bed, you survived another 18 hour day, you really just want to get in bed and watch TV and you lock the cat out of your room.

 

The take away from this is simple...Life is tough but so are you...and cats sometimes stink.

...a bat in the house sucks...

...constant: regularly recurrent; continual; persistent...

 

There are a few things in everyone's world that are a constant...something you can always rely on happening, cringe worthy or not. These are a few of mine...

 

...only being 'alone' when you are cleaning the house...the only time no one cares where you are...
 

...some child always walks in when you are putting on/taking off your bra
 

...brothers always pick on sisters
 

...raising boys, you are bound to have to tell someone to do something with their penis
 

...raising girls, you are bound to have to tell them that they are over accessorized
 

...drama will always follow wrestling...
 

...creativity is beautiful, but not on the kitchen floor...
 

...laundry is the never ending job of a mother...
 

...knowing 'nothing' as a mother is perpetual and persistent
 

...seeing pain in your kids eyes is never easy...
 

...a 3yr. old's ability to speak openly, and while you may be used to it, no one else ever is...
 

...explaining why you have the body parts you do to a child...
 

...a bat in the house sucks...
 

...brushing teeth isn't a chore, it's a necessary life skill...
 

...responsibility looks great until you have it...
 

...game night is always looked forward to...
 

...no one ever turns down a doughnut...
 

...boys rooms always smell like a science lab...
 

...tampons are not toys...
 

...kids will repeat everything they hear...at the worst possible times...

Then there are those constants that you take for granted. Those things that inevitably happen, but remind you that there is purpose in life. These moments are what lift you up when you are down...put a smile on your face when you want to cry...revive a weary soul at the end of a day. These are a few of mine...

...listening to a child read for the first time...

...hearing someone say I love you...

...watching four kids dance around the living room to Lawrence Welk...

...laughing with friends...

...having someone understand your flaws...and still appreciate you...

...watching your kids nurture each other...

...knowing your kids are going to be amazing humans...even if they're wearing an orange jumpsuit...

...knowing someone who can make you smile with your eyes

...watching your kids become independent...

...everyone eating their dinner...

...traditions everyone wants to keep...

...looking at someone and feeling blessed to have them in your life

...watching a plan, one you've obsessed about in your head, actually work...

...when opportunity arises, no matter if you are ready, go for it

...understanding that life can prove you wrong over and over again

While some of these constants you wish would go away, others are there to show you that you hope they never do. The unvarying occurrence is something you can depend on, when you have little else to depend on. Life is full of things you might not be ready for, at least you can depend on your constants.












 

...grunt-like-look...

Well, it's here...can you hear that? It's almost the end of the school year and I actually think I'm ready for it. This week has been a full cocktail of feelings...anxiety mixed and over ice with fear as well as excitement in a LARGE glass of gratification. It's a scary thing to put yourself out there, not knowing if you will sink or swim. It's hard to decide if you are brave enough to jump into the deep end and leave your worries behind, if for only one moment. It's a slippery slope to want something to be a success while at the same time knowing the fact you've accomplished anything, is well, enough. And then there is potty training a 3 year old...

I should know what the hell I'm doing by now...right? I mean I do have three other children who are entirely capable and are no longer wearing plastic pants...but I'm stumped. This charming, very verbal, completely coordinated 3 year old just will not get it. I've pulled out all of the old tricks: candy, sticker charts, superhero undies, promising animals we can't actually house, promising toys we can't afford. Everything short of a bourbon and ginger ale, and let's face it that's my reward, I have promised this kid and he won't use the toilet. Oh, don't get me wrong, he's good at making it 'appear' like he is getting the hang of things, taking initiative and understanding what he should do. It's the doing it that is a problem...cut to us playing Uno on Saturday, and me looking up, only to see him standing in the window, that unmistakable 'grunt-like-look' on his face...and then looking at me and saying, "...ah mommy, I pooped..." At this point I'm thinking I'm going to have to home-school him.

The struggles of a child who can't decide if she likes sports or just enjoys entertaining an audience is something else I will be looking forward to this summer. I don't care if any of my kids are sport minded. I certainly don't care if not a one of them becomes a sports phenomenon. All I want them to do is feel comfortable trying new things and if they like it great, if they don't well at least they tried. We can't be certain if Nora is a lefty or a righty. We can't be certain if she knows that the team will not have her name in the title. We can't be certain if she knows she has to run to home plate. We can't be certain if she understands that the people in the crowd aren't all there just for her... But in the next 6 weeks we'll learn and that's what this summer is all about.

The older my kids get, the older I get. Wow, that's profound enough to embroider on a pillow...what I'm saying is with every summer, my old lady nostalgia kicks in...Part of me remembers being 11 years old, riding my bike all over town and not really worrying about checking in until it was dinner time. Then, the old lady kicks in. The controlling parent. Suddenly on the inside, I'm "Beverly Goldberg" the mother who would give her life for her 'schmoopies', despite the fact that she might be smothering them. I know I need to trust the street smarts I have already instilled, but it's scary. It is scary to think what might happen, even though chances are they won't. That's the intricate inner workings of a mother's brain. I know I was given freedom to ride my bike, and I'm none-the-less normal. This summer, it's going to be a lesson in letting go a little and letting them be...The beauty of living in a small town? I'll know what they might have done wrong about 1.1 seconds after they do it. And besides, I've already survived the "puberty video", I figure I'm on the up swing.

It seems with every passing season, it becomes a time to start and try to change things up a little...the beginning of a new adventure. I have to keep reminding myself of how far we've come and only one visit to the ER. We set goals, hope to keep them, and if we don't kill each other by the end of the day, then we're winning. I remember how terrifying life once was for me...constantly thinking to myself, I'm never going to pull this off. I'm never going to be able to do this alone. Don't get me wrong, I don't have the secret to life figured out and my mother-guilt could be fodder for a medical book. But this week I did a lot of reflecting on all that has happened in the last couple of years. All those nights I frantically pondered when...when was any of this going to make sense? When was life going to get easy?

The answer is, never. Life isn't supposed to be easy...but if you are lucky, you can adapt and press on. It has taken me longer than I would like to admit to see it that way. If you are lucky you can see the good in any day, even if it is the moment your kids go to bed without a head wound. If you are lucky, you'll understand that you were put here for a reason or possibly many reasons. Lastly, you let go and let everyday be an example of how tomorrow could be better...If that doesn't work, and you're anything like the 3 year old living in my house, you stand in the window and poop...

...if we have an issue, we'll deal with it...

I've learned to turn a blind eye to things. I don't separate my laundry by colors. I don't worry about sack lunches. I'm the one who has company over and forgets to put away the bras that are air drying in the laundry room. I'm the one who needs to dust the shelves, but is readied with a veggie tray at a moments notice. I'm the one who worries less about my kids brushing their teeth and more about not having them look like hobos going to school. My priorities are a little skewed, but most everything is taken care of...as much as I care to, I should say.

When raising kids, I used to be more obsessed with every aspect of their school lives. I used to fret over snacks, fundraisers, and knowing all of their teachers. Where did that get me really? While life has taught me to ease up on some things, when it comes to the parent teacher conferences I think I'm as nervous as maybe the kids are. I steady myself, waiting to be told that while Abe looks mild mannered, he really has been selling cigarettes to some 5th graders...I use Abe only because his was the conference I needed to attend this year...

I sit and listen to his teacher explain certain strengths he has. I listen intently, as some of the things she is mentioning I have never seen in Abe. She shows me his handwriting and I literally ask her, "...this is Abe Hunt we are talking about, right?" Turns out, the kid is excelling in everything, not just the things he already knows he's good at. Turns out when he told me that he's reading at a 7th grade level (to which I scratched my head as he's always having someone else read for him like a seeing-eyed-dog), he was right. Turns out all of the things that I thought I knew about Abe, I didn't. He's not the brawn like he likes to say, he's the brains too.

This shouldn't come as a surprise to me, but for some reason it was more of a reassurance. The idea that maybe I haven't let this one fall through the cracks, was a load off my mind. The fact that even though I've never seen him do some of his work, it's actually getting done, and done well. I constantly worry about the notion my kids going to this small town school, is too easy for me. They head down the street and eight hours later they return. I don't have to be there to know that it is going on. I just get to be blessed with teachers and an administration that is seemingly taking care of what needs to be done.

I have ended the last couple of conferences with the same speech. It's not to scare or preach to them, more like let them know where we are. I flat out tell them that the next couple of months could be interesting. We are approaching the anniversary of their dad's death, and from that point I'm not sure how they will handle it. I'm not foreseeing a major issue, but I want to let them know that I'm always sort of waiting for the other shoe to drop. This years teacher, as in years pas,t were completely understanding, and receptive to what I had to say. However, this year's teacher said something I might not forget. She looked at me, and simply said, "You have nothing to worry about. You come highly respected for what you do and how you are doing it. Your kids are excelling, and so are you...if we have an issue, we'll deal with it."

While there is a bra drying in my laundry room, there is a veggie tray ready to be put out at 3 pm. While I know I need to vacuum, sitting watching TV with Nora is just more fun. Maybe I needed a complete stranger to tell me who my kid is to me. Maybe I needed a complete stranger to tell me that things were going okay. Maybe I needed a complete stranger to reassure me that no matter what may happen, no matter how I could possibly avoid it, if we have an issue, we'll deal with it...

...lucky underpants...

It's not a foreign feeling. I've done it twice before. I thought it would leave me feeling different than it did. I sent my third child to preschool today. It left me feeling kind of conflicted...a mixture of excited and nostalgic. Not sure if it's because this one has been home with me the longest? Not sure if it's because I feel this one has been desperate for peer interaction? Not sure if it's because her littlest brother has been pretending to talk to her all morning on a fake cell phone? But, as Oscar stated rather solemnly at the breakfast table this morning "...Nora, these are the last few hours of freedom, you better enjoy them, there's no going back..."

She is overly verbal- wonder where she gets it? She's eager to be in a room full of kids, raise her hand, show what she knows, and learn new things. It's heartwarming to see so much excitement about what most take for granted. Last night I asked her what she thought school would be like, and she said she had only seen school on TV, would it be like that? I told her maybe. She very seriously looked at me and said "...you know, I haven't mastered much math yet...". I told her not to worry about it, I haven't mastered much math either, and I no longer go to school.

Nora and her Aunt Gail picked out an outfit for the first day (she's way more fashion forward than a mom). The description of said outfit was priceless, completely Aunt Gail...

  "...she has a dress, white ankle socks, tennis shoes, 3 hair accessories, and her lucky underpants..."

And when I found her this morning this morning she was whipping up the beauty, putting on her lucky underwear and told me she would meet me downstairs. She was giddy. She was bouncy. She was starting to drive her brothers insane. Atticus must have said 49 times "...I ride bus to scccoooll?" To which I repeatedly told him no one was taking a bus to school. Finally at the 49th time I said "YES, now go look out the front window and wait for it to get here!"

We, her sidekick of the last 2.5 years and I, drove her to school. We took the obligatory picture in front of a school sign. She ran in, and kept saying, "I'm so excited!" No tears like the two dozen or more times I've left her with people to even run errands. No look of 'YOU CAN'T LEAVE'. It was nice. I had this strange feeling of pride and excitement for her. As I mentioned before, she's stayed home with me the longest. By this age her brothers would have had a year of preschool and be starting kindergarten, their birthdays were more perfectly timed...and I feel lucky to have been able to be home with my only girl for so long. Never mind being outnumbered, it's SOLIDARITY SISTER!

Within 1.8 minutes of being in this preschool, regardless of the fact that this was HER first time here, she was telling another classmate where to hang their backpack. I thought, she's got this...only to look down at Atticus bawling his eyes out! Partly because he couldn't stay, and partly because Nora was. I've got to be honest, I never saw that coming. He spent the rest of the morning talking like she was here, wanting to know when she'd be home, and slightly milking his desperation for all it was worth. When the bus actually did come and drop Nora off, she got out, raised her hands in the air and yelled, "BEST DAY EVER!!!"

For me, it's another milestone that I've compassed single parenting. I was wondering if dread was going to flood through me today. I woke up early and started the coffee just in case I needed a bit of a meltdown myself. I'm not sappy about my kids going to school, but our circumstances are different than they were when my others went. I realized that we all have a hand in raising each other. My kids are all really great kids. They know their strengths, know others weaknesses, let's face it they are kids. BUT they all have a hand in how we, for the lack of a better term, all turn out. However, the one I was going to send out in the world, she's been my therapist, my touchstone to reality, my best girl friend. Hell, if she were old enough she'd be a drinking buddy. Watching her turn the corner on so many (lets face it, a lot of crafts to hang) really great new experiences...without her mom hanging around. I knew she was ready. I was just really, really relieved, delighted and strengthened to see that SHE knew she was ready...and now, onto the fundraisers!

...idiot light...

Being laid up for a week, I understand how people can become slightly addicted to the Hallmark Channel. Their stories, and maybe it's the hydrocodine talking, are all rather similar to mine. That character, who is down on their luck...in a small town...learning the ropes...and Harry Connick Jr. is their neighbor...it's just like my life...the meds seemingly kicked in. But there I was, not used to laying in bed having someone else do my job for me. It tripped me out. All of my triggers were tripped and while I was icing down my new hip, possibly enjoying these moments of solitude...I was trying not to have a nervous break down.

One friend boldly mentioned to me "...in 4 months, when all you want to do is walk into your bedroom and shut the door, you'll miss these days." She's probably right. Hearing the nightly noises that I usually hear first hand through a baby monitor from the other side of the house, it felt eerie. Depending on people-trigger. Letting go of control-trigger. All the while having to remind myself that a break from life now meant a new lease on life later. More over, looking forward to not being physically broken down like some old car that has 3 idiot lights glaring on the dashboard...low fuel, turn signal light out, service engine soon...

Having to physically slow down taught me a lot. Having complete strangers attaching monitor probes to my most personal regions taught me more. It seemed that about the time I finished telling one person wearing medical scrubs my personal history, I was having to turn around and tell another one. Every word coming out of my mouth probably disconcerting to them. At this point I tell what has been a rather emotional story more or less in a matter-of-fact manner...it's just been my life, as common as the gray hairs on my head.

Every time I was forced to hear the words coming out of my mouth, sort of put into perspective for myself how far I've come. In the past at this hospital, I was never the one wearing the backless gown. I was never the one being probed. I was never under the scope...I was always sitting next to the bed of the person who was. Quickly, very quickly, I became more aware of all I had to lose...all I had to live for...those four reasons I can't walk into my bedroom in the middle of the day and shut the door.

I stressed for weeks that this surgery was no big deal to my kids...mind over matter? Maybe. More like 'someone who is going to this hospital and will indeed come back home' is probably more where my head was. I didn't want to impart any unnecessary fear in them...and maybe at the same time reassure myself. I've never had a surgery. I didn't know what to expect. I had plenty of people reassuring my that this thing would be a breeze...the two people would tell me some horror story of how they caught staph infection...well, that's reassuring.

So, now I'm a week and some change out of surgery and I'm doing better than I had expected. The mere act of shaving one's legs is life altering at times (clearly I'm easily pleased) and in four days my staples come out. It's crazy to think of what my body went through in such a short amount of time. However, it's crazier for me to think of what my mind went through in these last few weeks. I have a new appreciation for those I didn't get to take care of for a bit...and an understanding that you could never be a failure by letting people help you when you need it...they're just trying to help you turn your idiot light off...

...there's ol' Widow Hunt...

...the funny thing about life? You don't really understand it until you have to...You don't really know what is in store for you, until everything you knew is sort of worthless. Some would look at this as a growing experience. Some would look at it as a chance for rebirth of their faith. Some would even go so far as saying you are better for it happening to you. But that's the thing, they aren't you...

Life is full of all of these terms and generalizations branding situations that are so very individualized that it is almost laughable. The things that people say while one is grieving? You can either laugh at them or if you are really talented you nod your head while mentally punching them in the face. I wish I had the proper response to someone who is grieving...but the only thing that comes to mind is a hug, a bottle of good booze, and a smile.

Now, thankfully, I'm no longer settled into this place. I remember it, and I remember it well. Every now and again, someone will say something to me, and I seriously have to stunt the urge to tell them that unknowingly what they uttered is not only offensive, but sweet Jesus don't ever say that to anyone again. These are thankfully few and far between. I know people are stunted for knowing what to say, and even an overly verbal person like myself NOW knows saying nothing is almost preferred.

So, this rant? Does it have a reason? One word...widow. I sort of hate that word. Understandably, it meant something a little different years ago, it's origin is from the 1400's. A woman's husband would die, leaving her destitute and feeble...leaving her to scuttle off to the edge of town, rarely to be heard of or seen. Her name would be totally forgotten for anything other than that of "...'Ol Widow (insert last name here)..." She would rarely be seen out from underneath a darkened veil...yeah, that sounds like me.

This word, this term shouldn't have to determine my grief...but to some it still does. Grief shouldn't have to be worn to know it's happening. One term shouldn't brand you for the rest of your life. But, try explaining your situation if you are one...head tilts and sad looks. As if that is going to help the fact that you cannot be at the orthodontist for one of your kids at 6:30 am. There's no real great way to meet new people unless you are ready for their possible response. And nothing starts a party like the phrase, "...I'm a widow..." Pass the fun flask...

I decided a long time ago that I would grieve the way I needed to. I would let the break downs, the fall outs, the waves come when I needed it to come, in my own time, my own way. Not wear it on my sleeve like some scarlet letter. Not have to constantly remind people that I'm damaged, I'm a widow. I sort of feel some stupid sense of empowerment from it. I think my spouse would be proud of me, as crazy as I am, for grieving the way I have despite the way the world works. I'm not saying that I fully understand life, but I'm saying that I understand it more than the word widow could possibly identify me...and end rant.

...looking at fish...

My mind is a jumble...I've got a few things kicking around in my head. I was actually looking forward to sitting down and letting out some keyboard aggression...but I lost my window. Thankfully I lost a little aggression too. But it seems during certain times of the year, no matter how happy I may be I'm more trigger happy than I'd like to be, thus the simplest of things drive me up a tree...and for what?

My language skills must be lacking. I have either become a low talker, or my kids have just simply adopted another language. Head reeling, remembering how I used to be able to say something 3 times and be done. Now it's like my voice is on delay, and we've started to average 9. This does nothing to help a trigger happy mother of four not look like a complete lunatic in public. I know people who simply just don't take their kids places for this exact reason. I've never wanted to be this person, and frankly I don't have the luxury. So, I've decided to just start calling my kids by different names to see if that possibly works. As it worked out today, anywhere we went, anyone who was unfortunate to be around us, ended up knowing all of my kids names as I repeated them continuously. Either that or just start taking medication, the likes of which can cover up the fact that I'm about to lose my shit and just make me look like I'm looking at the fish in a pet store.

It seems redundant, but I have to constantly remind myself to relax. A crisis will ensue whether I've packed snacks or not. I think my internal struggle is starting to boil up also because I'm a month away from having a hip replacement. I try to remind myself how much better my day to day existence will be a year from now. The pain just simple mobility can cause currently is a little bit maddening I have to admit. My mind races to the 27 things I have to do before that fateful day under the knife. Mind you, it's nothing that is life threatening, pressing, or even anything I can delegate...it's just life stuff. We have a birthday, doctor appointments, eye appointments, dentist appointments, school supplies, and another birthday. So, not 27, but I gave you the short list as to not SCREAM crazy. I'm not worried about how things get accomplished while I'm recuperating, just eager to line a few things up to make it easier on the sainted people who have agreed to help.

A week from tomorrow my Oscar turns 10. It's really quite hard to believe. So many things run through my head close to events like this. The over planning of making a birthday cake usually is the first. This year I must have been under-caffeinated as I ridiculously mentioned, wouldn't a Baked Alaska be cool? What the hell was I thinking? Pinterest and my mom solved this problem. This is his year for a party. Thankfully he said he only wanted two of his friends to come over. On tap are pizza/wings, cake, video games, a scavenger hunt and movies. It's weird. He's at that strange age where some things are still too old for him, and others are too young. Planning a party for boys who like to sit with a controller in their hands- fairly simple. Less is more, right?

Lately, I find it more interesting how much he reminds me of Jason. To me it has always been in glimpses. He has grown this last year, and was reeling when I offered him a couple of Jason's smallest t-shirts to wear. Worried I was opening a can of worms with the rest of the kids, I knew that it was something special to him...and the fact he needed them literally and figuratively. I see Jason in Oscar's mannerisms, his temperament, and unfortunately his lack of wanting to communicate. I know it will take time, but it's the time that passes us by that I know I can't get back...and that stings. I know he feels like a number in this house, one of the 289 things a day I dread knowing. The unspoken thing still and will always be that he wants more time just he and I. While I wish I could give him all he wants, at least I know it's something I can actually fix. Relentlessly wanting to fix what can't be...reminding myself that I am missing the ability to be superhuman for my kids. Who is really?

...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...

 

 

...the only thing we have to fear...

Doubt. Dread. Uneasiness. Concern. Fears. They are an inevitable consequence of being alive I suppose. There are ones you are willing to admit. There are ones you share with hundreds of others. There are those that you, if you are lucky, have succumbed. And then, there are those fears that never really go away...those anxieties that you would never want to openly mention, as it might make you look weak and feeble.

I found out earlier this month that I will get to have a hip replacement at the end of the summer. At this point, I've considered just laying in the street at times and paying anyone to do it. It's tiresome, depressing, and painful to not be able to keep up with daily life. I feel like a 75 year old trapped in a 38 year old body. My fear, looking weak, is no longer masked by me pretending to feel okay. I limp and hobble, and all sorts of other unattractive things to try to keep step with four kids. While I welcome this surgery, it means a summer of trying to really have a lot of fun with my kids, as I will be laid up for a while afterwards.

I know what feeling powerless is like. The closet door on my 'control issues' has been removed by it's hinges. Though there I sit, in the doorway, delusional enough to think that I can stay inside this doorway and life will always work out like I plan. I'm not going to lie, it's my 'pacifier'. At times I wonder if it's a blessing or a curse to know just how fast life can change, and there's not one thing you can do about it. On one hand, I feel like owning that notion will make me less apt to taking things for granted. On the other hand of that notion, I feel like I have to be 'readied' at any moment for the bottom to fall out. I over compensate when it comes to parenting. Here comes a big truth: I perpetually live in fear that I've only got one shot to get it right, that's a healthy mindset, right? And they only have me- heaven help them. I only hope one day, while they are siting around having a cocktail together and talking about how crazy their mother was, they'll at least remember that she was also perpetually outnumbered. I'm not worried about Nora, she has life pretty much figured out...the other day the Talls got into some trouble. I walked away from them and bumped into Nora, and she looked at me and said, "Your soothing spa treatment is ready, it's time for your day off..."

I worry about a summer going by and no one learns anything. I'm odd, I know. I feel like it's the perfect time to not only do something fun, but discover a hidden talent, pick up a new hobby, enjoy a more dangerous chore...Weed-wacking? Clearly something we are going to have to work up to. Lawn mowing? The Talls are all a contradiction when it comes to this. On one hand they tell me they know what they are doing, suddenly they can't do it, they don't know how. It was interesting, each of them at different times in different places said that exact same thing to me this morning. I looked at them and said, "...well, that's awesome! You won't be able to say that tomorrow..." A comeback I will never forget, thank you.

Facing another fear a couple of months ago...I asked for help. I entered a home improvement contest by submitting an essay. I have to admit, it was sort of therapeutic to put down in words why I needed help, I think because it felt anonymous. I never in a million years figured my collection of words would be picked as a finalist...I mean come on, I'm asking for help? Fast forward a few months, hundreds of family and friends support...and I won. It was overwhelming. It was heart tugging. It made me more grateful than ever for the people I am blessed to have in my life. Those I see regularly, and those, thanks to social media, I haven't seen in years. It reminded me the fear I have about countless things I have no control over, doesn't have to exist when you have others to lean on...they are your life's silver lining. Knowing me, I won't want to literally lean on them, but knowing they are there is like a magic want to the psyche...

...cheap towels and flying horses...

Speaking in code...we all do it. Whether it be 'code' as to how you feel. Whether it be talking in 'code' to your kids to make your life easier. Or lastly, understanding when 'code' is no longer necessary, worthy, or going to cut it anymore...that's where I've been residing.

For me, the codes have become more blatant. I no longer ask, "have you brushed your teeth" It's like asking someone if what you're wearing is flattering. The answer is always and at times a little too rushed, "YES". Now, the same question is "...did you brush your teeth TODAY", as someone will always point out that they did, yesterday. If only the codes of life were so easy to figure out. No one really wants to "know how you are feeling?" They want the light, airy response that will leave them feeling good about themselves for asking...this is true if you are feeling good or bad. So, you throw them some code and continue turning clothes right side out while throwing them in the wash.

Then there are the codes which all parents speak, when being asked on a semi regular basis about babies. Where do they come from? How do they get there? How do they come out? This is when code goes into HYPER DRIVE. There are reasons I do not wish to tell my kids about the proper names for body parts. That knowledge, that power, is spilled onto complete strangers with a vengeance from my overly verbal children. So, let's spare them the anatomy lesson, and me my sanity. I am like a cheap towel when it comes to the above mentioned questions...I push off some other topic, tell them to ask a licensed physician, or point out a rainbow that is not actually there. For Nora, it usually works, though I'm not looking forward to her next doctor's appointment. I know my  code has sufficed when the next thing out of her mouth is "...you know, I think riding a flying horse would probably be a lot of fun..." We're good...for now.

Code for the Talls? As long as I somehow throw in a fart joke, mention a fictional character, or a flesh eating bacteria, their question is thwarted. It's not that I want to lie to them, or with hold information...it's more about the fact that once they know they like to spread the word...even if a disclaimer was given. This is a small town. I've already been called by the school letting me know that one of the Talls was heard explaining a word I have never even used...and it wasn't altruistic. Boys will be boys as the old saying goes. That code conversation ended with if you don't know what you are talking about, you probably shouldn't be talking. I find it interesting to see how they throw code at some of the things Nora asks..I feel like a sensei.

For me personally, the codes are changing. There will always be days when life just isn't how it was envisioned when I was 25. But, looking back I had no idea what I wanted out of life at that age. In addition, I had no idea who I really was...what the hell did I know? About the time when you think you might have it all figured out, you either get taken out at the knees or you are reminded how great you actually have it and want to pay it forward. So you end the day reminded of sage lessons you have already been given, saying: Brush your teeth before you go into your bedroom tonight. Put on your pull up after you take your clothes off. About the time when you think you are going to seriously loose your shit if you hear the phrase "chicken nuggets/fries" uttered from a two year old AGAIN...you close his door to lay him in his crib and he looks at you and whispers "...I wuv you..." And with that, you're ready to tackle all the code tomorrow gives you...

...the rookie mistake...

Snuggled under a blanket on the couch with Atticus. He turns to me  and says something, putting his head on my shoulder. I speak his language, but the kid is hard to decipher. To the untrained ear it sounds like, "...blah, blah, blah..." I turned to him and said, "...did you just say you're so pretty?" He looks at me and plain as day he says, "...No, I said I have a boogie. See?" Rookie mistake, right?

All day long the phrase has been in my head. So, to end the evening like I did wasn't happenstance. It got me thinking of the 'rookie mistakes'. They are at times hard lessons to learn, and at times they are possibly our greatest blessings in disguise. They can happen at any time, bouncing in to secretly shape and form who we are or who we will become. I think about the 'rookie mistake' I made sitting next to a guy at the first frat party I ever went to...it wasn't a mistake. It was my fortune yet to be unearthed. Four kids later, I'm grateful for that frat party, and the After Shock that was being consumed by some. That rookie move shaped who I was in an instant, and I am forever in his debt.

Being overly verbal, rookie mistake? Maybe, but I can carry on a conversation with all of my kids, even the one I only understand. They get a joke, and can deliver a punch line...If that's wrong, I don't want to be right. New found rookie mistake? Grounding two boys might actually be as much punishment for me as it is for them. I'm out numbered 24 hours a day, how would I have known? We are in the final stretch of said punishment, the light is glimmering at the end of the tunnel. While they have driven me NUTS, I feel like they have truly learned a lesson. So, we'll call it a draw.

Catering to my kids whims? Rookie mistake. I think I have hidden under the guise of 'choose your battles, or just avoid them completely'. I'm here to tell you, that's bull shit, and I now know it. I have created a diva of a monster, who has literally been quoted saying, "...I cannot eat peas (or anything green), they make me shiver..." Her mini-cohort also has an arsenal of tricks. The tiny terrorist won't eat, throws a fit, telling you he's leaving the table. But, if you completely ignore him, he bores himself into eating. Who's rookie mistake is that? (insert evil laugh here)

Then there comes the trinity of rookie mistakes that every parent makes. I'm no different, and they wouldn't matter at all if I wasn't doing this alone. So, these are named ÜBER ROOKIE MISTAKES. Mine are as follows: Not asking for help. Freaking out (on myself and my kids). Over planning, and being scared to meander off said plan. I've been told my house could possibly resemble a Nazi camp...not proud of that. Now, like I said, these aren't really that big of a deal...but, when you are the only drinking age adult in the house? They can add up QUICK. Here is where the "Mental Jenga" comes into play, and sometimes I just don't have it in me. Stock up on the Ginkgo Biloba and hope for the best?

Putting myself out there, after losing Jason, rookie mistake? Hardly. I have been reminded of some of my greatest friendships from 20 years. Most importantly how very lucky I am and  how very valuable they are. I have been so very blessed to have new friendships. Some people I've known, some I have met out of my new circumstances. Letting these people in who love me and all of my flaws, and at times can even toast them! I'm grateful to all of the above who have reminded me of not only who I can be, but what they see in me.

Lastly, the start of blog writing, rookie mistake? What started out as just a way to not seek therapy or get a 'club card' at a liquor store, has become a great release. I did however make a rookie mistake taking the first offer to get it published. It was a scary concept, thinking this may be my only chance. This was on my bucket list. And when it fell through, it was bitter sweet. However, it forced me to go back and read...and edit...and remember. Remember what I've learned. Realize how much we have all grown. And finally, know that even a rookie mistake can be the beginning of something adventurous...

...un-scactioned nudist colony...

Most days in my house aren't really unlike that of any other house...with the exception of maybe the volume, high levels of drama, and well today...nudity. While everyday isn't going to look like the idyllic notion that you might project to others that it is. There are those days when you look around and think...what the hell is going on in here today?

It's payback really. I went out with friends last night. It was the first time in nearly two weeks that I had been out of the house without children. The earnings of those days start early, and at some point you look at the clock and think, how many hours until the babysitter gets here?! I love my kids, with every ounce that I am. However, getting out, being with adults...it's heady. It's this experience that seriously is more than just getting away from my house, it's an escape from worries, drama, and debates.

So, that being said...today, well, it was a nice cosmic wedgie, reminding me that , "...hey, guess what? this is your life..." Like a cold splash of water to wake you up? Yeah, mine started with a naked toddler, who decided to start potty training himself, in his crib. He was naked as the day he was born, so very proud telling me what he did, and that indeed these were his 'frank-n-beans' pointing downward. That's a lot to take in at 6:01 in the morning. Little did I know, that we now live in an un-sanctioned nudist colony...I just kept finding him, nude. Not all laid out or running through the house...going through the video cabinet, reading books, talking to his Elmo doll. Seemingly as if, he didn't even notice the slight breeze he was getting. And with every naked adventure, came the gift of bodily fluid. At one point I actually asked Abe, "...do you think it would be wrong to duct tape his clothes on him?" 'Cause you know, asking an 8 year old that kind of stuff makes sense...I needed feedback I guess.

There were fist fights, arguments, declarations of 'you're the meanest brother ever' or 'you wish'...it was making me twitch. The drama queen who sat for 68 minutes at the dinner table refusing to eat one sugar snap pea. Finally, when I told her that her time was up, she succumbed. Afterward, she marched through the house so proud of herself, as if she'd just taken down the CRACKEN. Meanwhile, headgear mysteriously broke...at this point, I look at the Talls smiles, and it's like a cartoon, all I see are dollar signs. So, it looks like we'll be loitering in the office of Dr. Paul Miller, DDS within the next few days...

I love my kids. I'm grateful to be their mother. I'm blessed to have the challenge of being their parent. While it's a challenge, I'm fortunate to stay with the ones who are still at home for now. I'm gratified at the end of the day that we all survived to do it all over again tomorrow. I at one point today, I looked out my kitchen window and thought...so, did you have fun last night?...two more weeks until it happens again.

...chasing numbers...

"...basically...we are chasing numbers..." This is what we were told at the end of Jason's fight. I felt like he had left a couple of days before...as I saw him do so in a dream I had while at the hospital. While saying a final goodbye to my husband was ONE of the hardest things I think I ever have done...I did it, it meant something, I felt at peace with it...or as much as I could at the time. For me, the next hardest thing I have EVER done, is tell our children that he had passed away...for me, a year later, this is a moment that still haunts me...

It isn't something that is in the front of my mind constantly. I did, however know how hard it was going to be. I vaguely slept that first night back home...I knew that when the sun came up, I was some how going to have to explain...some how tell them...some how let them know how much he loved them...how very lucky they were to have him as a father...some how going to have to help them understand...all while trying to maintain my own emotions. I only had one chance to do this right, as if there were a right way to do it, but I was searching for one none-the-less.

 My heart still aches a little, and my eyes get more than misty, thinking about it...not for myself, for them. I remember I went into each of their rooms and asked if they would come down and get into bed with me. I figured if I could some how get them all in bed with me, with pillows and blankets I could some how try to hug them all at once. Each child who could speak was immediately asking a million questions...when did I get home? where was Dad? why was I here and he wasn't? when is he getting home? All the while, I just kept saying, "Let's get down to my room and we'll talk about it when we get there..." Meanwhile knowing, that in about 5 minutes, I was going to break their hearts. Not the kind when a kid doesn't get what they want for their birthday...the kind you can almost physically hear. I heard it, and all I could do was weep for them, wishing I had better answers to their questions, better solutions to their one main problem...no, your Dad isn't coming back.

While that moment haunts me, at times worse than seeing Jason lose his fight, I think it's because they are still living. I think knowing that at such a young age, that was a defining moment for them...The weeks after Jason passing I would nearly chant to myself or anyone who would listen, in the dark of my bedroom...how am I going to do this? how can I do this alone? how am I going to make it? I remember asking my Mom the same questions. At the time I wanted a more concrete answer, but the one she gave me was stoic and very true...she merely said, "...You just will, Kate."

Here I am a year later. As Atticus was in full on 'beast-mode' today, I decided to treat us all by having a dinner without him. He was fed and but to bed early. Something someday I'll have to answer for, as it happens a couple of times a month. But, everyone at the table tonight was in agreement, it was fabulous. We talked, we laughed, we ate baked mac-n-cheese and salad. I caught myself thinking...I'm doing it. I watch these children, grow into these amazing people, full of ideas, humor, and a little bit of a 'sauce-box' at times. I'm so proud of who they are, and what they are growing into. I'm, in a way, watching them grow and now I'm chasing numbers...theirs. Their accomplishments, their pitfalls, their heartaches, their life, unfolding. The helpful, curious, wonderful people they are becoming. Wondering how the next 5 years will be?

So, on November 7, 2013, after a year of celebrating surviving month after month...we are heading to our favorite old restaurant...one I haven't gone to in a year, as the last time I was there, it was with Jason. We are going to eat, and laugh, and talk about their father, and what we want to accomplish in the next year...and I will have a smile on my face.  I'll be watching them hit milestones, a year ago I couldn't even imagine...while a year ago, I thought I'd never have the strength to do any of this...turns out I have had it all along, times 4...

Santa, Tooth Fairy...sleep with one eye open...

It was one of those days...even though there were two runny noses, not including my own, it was a good day. There were no arguments. No meltdowns. No mental desire to run to my room and lock the door at 7:30 in the morning and think, "Screw it, we are starting over!". I lie in wait...figuring the afternoon would somehow rival that of the Waco, Texas Branch Davidian Standoff. Cue the obligatory standoff music about 3:34...nothing.

The Talls came in the back door. Greeted me with their homework in their hands, and immediately sat down and did it. No arguing. No raised voices. No begging to play an iPad. Straight to task, no issues. Okay, I fixed a drink...clearly, I some how tripped into the Twilight Zone, and Atticus was some zombie man-child preparing to eat my brain...

Everyone got cleaned up, ate dinner, and helped with the dishes. I wiped a couple of noses and we started an old kids Halloween movie from the 90's...something we had already seen years ago, no biggie. Then suddenly, it hit me...I quickly figured out how my day was so picture perfect, it was the calm before the storm. They kept repeating a word in this movie...I was praying, I was the only one that was catching it. The Smalls peaced about 40 minutes in, put them to bed and came back to finish the movie with the Talls. I went to turn off the movie, and it happened...."Mom, what's a virgin? They said it like 12 times in the movie...".

Quick thinker, not really. Terrified thinker, most definitely. I covered my face for a moment, it felt like 10 minutes, pondering the answer to this question. How this really wasn't a one answer question...this would then spawn multiple questions. Not only did I not have a strong enough cocktail for this, but then the validity of all major players would then come into question- Santa, Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, Elf on the Shelf...these are the innocent players in this game. The startling notion that if I answered this wrong, I could somehow end up having to explain sex to my 9 and 7 year old BOYS...these little people, albeit I try to shelter a lot...but, I wasn't ready for THIS.

I...went with my cowardly gut. Thinking to myself, in this instance, knowledge is NOT power. I told them a vastly different definition than that of most of the Western world. The longer it took me to answer, I knew I would look suspect. I didn't REALLY lie, because I figured they'd have to look up some of the words IN the definition of a virgin to even know what it was...yeah, I chumped out. "...um, well, um fellas...um, a virgin is...someone who isn't married...Time for bed."

So...not going to win a parenting contest with this evening. I knew the whole day was beyond bizzaro...the lessons learned here are as follows: Have chilled glasses ready...Try not to scar your children for life, when they could learn the info from someone with at least the same parts...It wasn't the Branch Davidian Standoff, but I'm not going to be ready to answer those sorts of questions this close to Christmas, ever.

...this isn't a 30 minute sitcom...

Well...hello. It's been a while since I've written you...I've been a little busy. If someone would have told me a year ago, that my life would be how it is today? I would have told them to put down the crack pipe, and check themselves into a program. There would be no way that I would/could ever do half of the things I have done in the last year...but, that's not reality.

We had a conversation about your absence today. I reminded the kids how much they've accomplished in the last year...it fell seemingly on deaf ears. They couldn't figure out what I was trying to say. Nora, of course, said, "...I wish he could just come back for a while...", that's usually her standard response. She could carry on a full conversation just about anything (fact or fiction) but grasping where/why you are gone, not quite there yet.

In this conversation, I was trying to tell them how much they have grown, we have grown in the last year. People comment to me all the time, how hard it must be on my own...it is, but it would be so much worse if these kids weren't so great. I told them how strong they were. I told them how proud I was of them...I told them, "...do you know how amazing you kids are? You have been through one of the toughest years of your life. You have been through a loss that most can't even imagine. Look how you have made it...". What I really wanted to say, but censored myself is, do you know how bad ass you are?!

These kids, without them, I would never have made it. Sure, I long for the ability to just go to my room and shut the door at any given time of the day, but that is not reality. We, together, have somehow gained a strength in your absence...I'm not sure if that is out of necessity or if they have always had it in them...but it's there. We are bound for more difficult things in our path of life, this isn't a 30 minute sitcom, but my hope is that this will always be the glue that binds us...this monumental struggle of our lives changing.

The best part about these kids, is their sense of humor. They are able to find the humor, in what we are going through. The many mood swings of Nora. The boy who wants to be a man who (without the need for hygiene) in Oscar. The slight little fella who is always ready to show his feats of strength in Abe. All of us discussed the future of Atticus at the table tonight. As I was wrestling with him to sit at the dinner table, exchanging forks umpteen times, telling him to sit down...Someone asked what I thought his voice would be like. I said probably echoed in prison...Oscar was convinced Atticus would be able bust out of fairly quickly/stealthily. Nora said she would pray for him. Abe said, "...If he broke out, then I'd have to have him over for dinner, I can't leave my stinking brother out in the cold...".

These, little gifts of you...They are what wake me up in the morning. Argue with me. Drool on me. Wad their laundry up. Pee on the toilet seat. Make me play pool party in our living room. Climb the kitchen drawers to play with the coffee pot/knives. Eat me out of house and home. They are the last things I think about when I go to bed at night. They are these awesome gifts, while they might keep the liquor cabinet stocked, I'm left with the best part of you...with their help, I hope I'm doing you proud.