So, a strange thing happened to me yesterday. I was checking out at a store and the lady in front of me turned to me and said, "I don't really know you, but I keep up with you through friends on social media. I just wanted to tell you how happy I am for you that you are getting remarried. You deserve to be happy, you and your kids have been through a lot. I'm so glad that life is treating you well." I thanked her and said considering where I was five years ago at this time, I never imagined my life would be what it is today.
The "Dark Day"...everyone has one. Whether it be a day of sadness, remembrance or the scab of grief that never fully heals itself. These days are met at times with shuttering anticipation, self-evaluation and the prophetic wonder about what the next "dark day" will look like. Through time, one hopes to see this day come and go, surviving it unscathed with hopefully a nugget of wisdom attached. Grief, sadly for those who experience it, is atemporal, free from limitations of time. However, happiness is also atemporal, if one continues to see a silver lining, no matter how difficult it might be. Yesterday, it was a stranger who made sure to remind me the millions of reasons I have to smile.
For me, this day is a day I have been wondering about for the last five years. I wondered how I would be five years beyond. I wondered how I would figure out how to go on living, raising kids, making ends meet, single parenting and basically holding it all together without my best friend. I remember looking at my mom and saying, "I can't do this." Fully not believing in myself because I never had to before in this way. This extreme way of dealing with life basically alone, other than the offspring that we created, my best friend and I. The mere notion of being outnumbered and raising kids I knew I would most definitely screw up...how's that for atemporal?
Today five years later, I'm grateful. I'm grateful for the chance to have become a mother, the toughest job you'll ever love. I'm grateful to have had a best friend who I am sure is looking down on our kids with pride, and occasionally laughing his ass off at the antics they attempt. I'm grateful for the support of friends and family, encouraging me to not forget my strength. I'm grateful for the chance to fully accept that life is not always kind, so take what you are given and live it to its fullest. I'm grateful for the arguments my kids had with me this morning about wearing their hats, and my come back to them, "Well, you're going to take them off as soon as I pull away from the school- humor me, please." I'm grateful for a cocktail some days. I'm grateful for the chance I've been given to be a wife again. I'm grateful for someone to love again. I'm grateful for the understanding that the last five years have given me. Today is not where I thought I would be five years ago, it is way better than I could ever have anticipated. No one is in jail (yet), only a few trips to the ER, and we've all endured this thing called life.
Through the years, on this "dark day" I would never look at social media. I would never sit down or sit still for fear I might lose it. My phone was put away and the kids and I would set out on an adventure. I had always hoped that eventually, the "dark day" could just become a "shady day," knowing only time would get us there eventually. I sort of feel like it has. Five years later, we're scaling back a bit, having a nice dinner, sharing fun memories about their dad...and buying shoes. (GASP!!!!) Anyone with offspring know, buying shoes for one kid, let alone four is something akin to any myriad of the tactics used at Guantanamo Bay. A cocktail at dinner for me and ice cream for the kids afterwards will be the reward for somehow not getting arrested in a department store today. Five years later, I'm still thanking Jason for the gifts he has given me. Also, I want to thank those gifts, my kids, for always giving me a reason to look for a silver lining, not only on this "shady day" but every day.
Just to be safe, here's a heads up if I call you from the police station, I'm going to need a ride.
Showing posts with label surviving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label surviving. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 7, 2017
Thursday, February 11, 2016
...know how to aim...
...there's nothing quite like watching what you had for dinner come out of one of your children five hours later...really makes you rethink your nutritional goals. This week I was reminded, as sometimes you need to be, of what it must have been like to live during THE PLAGUE...Okay, not the plague, more like the Asian Flu of 1958. At any rate, sometimes you have to be looking/listening/sensing intently on your children, possibly trying to utilize your cat-like-reflexes with a puke bucket, to really notice things about them. Sure any other time, during normal daily life, you look at them, you see them...but laying with them, watching and listening to them breathe, you notice a lot more. Sadly our episode of malaria lasted longer than I wanted, but about the time where I was mentally/physically sick of seeing chunky bodily fluids...it ended.
Now it should be said, I am fortunate. I have kids that know how to aim and get them selves where they needed to be to get sick. Every time I heard the toilet flush, I said a little thank-you-prayer that they were to THIS point in their lives. Not old enough to shave but old enough to take care of business and know the drill of being sick. It is the other two I have, for some reason would like to reenact a scene from the "Exorcist" every time they throw up. A simple head in the bucket is just too much, not understanding why once covered in ick, I need to shower them off. Lastly, why candy should ever be consumed less than 24 hours after losing their lunch. Thankfully, our next outbreak of cholera, we'll be more practiced for this.
It was midway through the typhus outbreak that I took my yearly notice...these kids are growing...to fast. Oscar is as tall as I am, and the rest are quickly catching up as well...there goes my street cred. And as always, I noticed it with Atticus. As I lay there in his bed, praying not to get puked on again, hoping he can get some rest, I see him in his night light lit room. Speaking to him gently, telling him to just try to rest and that I would stay for a bit. Listening to him softly drift off, and noticing his profile I realize he looks/sounds the same as he did almost 4 years ago when he was a baby. I laid there thinking to myself what every wiser, more mature veteran mother has told me, "...enjoy this time..." Usually, I think, um why the hell would I want to? But in that moment, in that barely lit room, I laid there and looked at this kid. I wondered, what the heck? What is this kid going to be like? What is this kid going to be into? Who is this kid going to act like (the million dollar question)? And will this kid ever know how much he is loved?
That's the thing about Atticus...I'm technically the parent, but he has three others as well, one mother and two father hens. They comment when he's done something well, they let him know when he's not acting appropriately. They usually use him as their flying monkey when I'm out of the room because he's the lightest. It was only tonight however, they and I didn't know how to react when he said at a commercial on TV "...well, that's bull shit..." Stunned silence. I wasn't pleased to have heard what he said, but I, much like the kids, found it so very odd to hear it coming from his mouth. We all sort of looked at each other like, okay he didn't say that. Ten seconds later he said, "...I said that was bull shit..." OKAY, heard that one! As I was trying to tell him that those were not words he should be using, the other three hens were chiming right it, giving him whats for...I was baffled and trying not to laugh actually.
This week has been long. This week has been tiring. This week has been a phenomenal advertisement for laundry detergent. At times this week could have gotten me early acceptance into the Betty Ford Clinic, but at least the worst is behind us. While at times this week my parenting skills have been questioned/debated/despised by my offspring, tonight I appreciated our tag-team-hen-parenting-approach. It's not ideal. At times by me it's not always preferred. But, it's got us where we are four years later, and he's still alive to tell the tale! So here's to the next round of yellow fever fate decides to throw at us...while it might possibly take us out...by then we'll all know how to aim!
Now it should be said, I am fortunate. I have kids that know how to aim and get them selves where they needed to be to get sick. Every time I heard the toilet flush, I said a little thank-you-prayer that they were to THIS point in their lives. Not old enough to shave but old enough to take care of business and know the drill of being sick. It is the other two I have, for some reason would like to reenact a scene from the "Exorcist" every time they throw up. A simple head in the bucket is just too much, not understanding why once covered in ick, I need to shower them off. Lastly, why candy should ever be consumed less than 24 hours after losing their lunch. Thankfully, our next outbreak of cholera, we'll be more practiced for this.
It was midway through the typhus outbreak that I took my yearly notice...these kids are growing...to fast. Oscar is as tall as I am, and the rest are quickly catching up as well...there goes my street cred. And as always, I noticed it with Atticus. As I lay there in his bed, praying not to get puked on again, hoping he can get some rest, I see him in his night light lit room. Speaking to him gently, telling him to just try to rest and that I would stay for a bit. Listening to him softly drift off, and noticing his profile I realize he looks/sounds the same as he did almost 4 years ago when he was a baby. I laid there thinking to myself what every wiser, more mature veteran mother has told me, "...enjoy this time..." Usually, I think, um why the hell would I want to? But in that moment, in that barely lit room, I laid there and looked at this kid. I wondered, what the heck? What is this kid going to be like? What is this kid going to be into? Who is this kid going to act like (the million dollar question)? And will this kid ever know how much he is loved?
That's the thing about Atticus...I'm technically the parent, but he has three others as well, one mother and two father hens. They comment when he's done something well, they let him know when he's not acting appropriately. They usually use him as their flying monkey when I'm out of the room because he's the lightest. It was only tonight however, they and I didn't know how to react when he said at a commercial on TV "...well, that's bull shit..." Stunned silence. I wasn't pleased to have heard what he said, but I, much like the kids, found it so very odd to hear it coming from his mouth. We all sort of looked at each other like, okay he didn't say that. Ten seconds later he said, "...I said that was bull shit..." OKAY, heard that one! As I was trying to tell him that those were not words he should be using, the other three hens were chiming right it, giving him whats for...I was baffled and trying not to laugh actually.
This week has been long. This week has been tiring. This week has been a phenomenal advertisement for laundry detergent. At times this week could have gotten me early acceptance into the Betty Ford Clinic, but at least the worst is behind us. While at times this week my parenting skills have been questioned/debated/despised by my offspring, tonight I appreciated our tag-team-hen-parenting-approach. It's not ideal. At times by me it's not always preferred. But, it's got us where we are four years later, and he's still alive to tell the tale! So here's to the next round of yellow fever fate decides to throw at us...while it might possibly take us out...by then we'll all know how to aim!
Saturday, December 27, 2014
...Precious Moments...
We've been playing nothing but games for the last week...Uno, Yahtzee, Head Bands, Gooey Louie and Operation. But the game that is just ahead of me is that of numbers. The game of wondering if where you are is, well, where you are...When did you get to be this damned old?
I guess the cosmic question that I ask myself is what is the difference between my actual age and my mental age. I'm blessed to be friends with a woman that knows all too well how grief can define these terms...she's my soul sister as we call each other. While she is younger than I am, she's a veteran with more years under her belt of the game of "widow dome". We've talked about how when your life is so drastically changed, it seriously ages you a half a decade within minutes. The fawn-eyed person you once were is a mere wisp of what you have to now take on. The mere notion of ADULTHOOD in it's earlier stages is very, very real now.
ADULTHOOD. When does that really occur? Through every one's life there is always some mental benchmark of where they will be at a certain age. There is a far off notion of what "old" looks like. There is a place that is contented, settled, adjusted, and secure that you see yourself when you get older. I wonder at times if I went back and talked to my 21 year old self what I would tell her. What would I say to prepare her for her life ahead? Would the things I once found so important even make the short list? When did I hit the age where I had to face the fact that yes, I am indeed an...ADULT?
While everyday is a new day, some just aren't as rosy as others, that's life. But, in the last two years, I have found an interesting phenomenon. Just about the time when you think you might as well give up, as everything you are doing is an expired version of sucking...someone says something that really lifts you. Someone you barely know, can see what you can't. Today at an indoor pool I bumped into another mom who I had met once. We became friends on social media, and I've noticed how adorable her family is. While it was nice to see a familiar face, it was really nice to sort of catch up in person. At one point she looks at me and says, "...how do you do this?" I jokingly said something about a cocktail time. I wanted to further add that you would find no Precious Moments figurines based on anything that goes on in my house. Yet, in that one question, it reminded me to suck it up. You are surviving. You are doing this. You may have stretch marks, gray hair, and be on your last year of your thirties...but it's getting done.
So, I'm taking this next year to get MORE done. I've got plans, goals, ideas, and intentions of making my 39th year something to remember. There are a few things that I have put on the proverbial back burner that are coming into the heat. I need to be mindful of the continuing notion that I was put here for a purpose. Yeah, I'm outnumbered in my house on a daily basis. Yeah, I fold more laundry than is probably allowed by law outside of a Laundromat. Yeah, I can throw a cocktail party together in about 17 minutes. But, I want more.
I'm turning 40 years old in 368 days...I have 368 days to make it count. I have the next 368 days to remind myself that limits are mostly set in the mind. I have 368 days to remind myself that my kids, while they are at times my biggest worry they are also my best cheerleaders with my DNA. I have 368 days to remember that perfection is over rated. I have 368 days to consider how truly wonderful being 40 will be. I have all of this time to take advantage of what is in front of me, all the while knowing what I have in my back pocket has made me what I am today...(gulp) an ADULT.
I guess the cosmic question that I ask myself is what is the difference between my actual age and my mental age. I'm blessed to be friends with a woman that knows all too well how grief can define these terms...she's my soul sister as we call each other. While she is younger than I am, she's a veteran with more years under her belt of the game of "widow dome". We've talked about how when your life is so drastically changed, it seriously ages you a half a decade within minutes. The fawn-eyed person you once were is a mere wisp of what you have to now take on. The mere notion of ADULTHOOD in it's earlier stages is very, very real now.
ADULTHOOD. When does that really occur? Through every one's life there is always some mental benchmark of where they will be at a certain age. There is a far off notion of what "old" looks like. There is a place that is contented, settled, adjusted, and secure that you see yourself when you get older. I wonder at times if I went back and talked to my 21 year old self what I would tell her. What would I say to prepare her for her life ahead? Would the things I once found so important even make the short list? When did I hit the age where I had to face the fact that yes, I am indeed an...ADULT?
While everyday is a new day, some just aren't as rosy as others, that's life. But, in the last two years, I have found an interesting phenomenon. Just about the time when you think you might as well give up, as everything you are doing is an expired version of sucking...someone says something that really lifts you. Someone you barely know, can see what you can't. Today at an indoor pool I bumped into another mom who I had met once. We became friends on social media, and I've noticed how adorable her family is. While it was nice to see a familiar face, it was really nice to sort of catch up in person. At one point she looks at me and says, "...how do you do this?" I jokingly said something about a cocktail time. I wanted to further add that you would find no Precious Moments figurines based on anything that goes on in my house. Yet, in that one question, it reminded me to suck it up. You are surviving. You are doing this. You may have stretch marks, gray hair, and be on your last year of your thirties...but it's getting done.
So, I'm taking this next year to get MORE done. I've got plans, goals, ideas, and intentions of making my 39th year something to remember. There are a few things that I have put on the proverbial back burner that are coming into the heat. I need to be mindful of the continuing notion that I was put here for a purpose. Yeah, I'm outnumbered in my house on a daily basis. Yeah, I fold more laundry than is probably allowed by law outside of a Laundromat. Yeah, I can throw a cocktail party together in about 17 minutes. But, I want more.
I'm turning 40 years old in 368 days...I have 368 days to make it count. I have the next 368 days to remind myself that limits are mostly set in the mind. I have 368 days to remind myself that my kids, while they are at times my biggest worry they are also my best cheerleaders with my DNA. I have 368 days to remember that perfection is over rated. I have 368 days to consider how truly wonderful being 40 will be. I have all of this time to take advantage of what is in front of me, all the while knowing what I have in my back pocket has made me what I am today...(gulp) an ADULT.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
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.
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.
It's take your pants off Tuesday!
Well, I admit it. I was smug. I was cocky that we'd survived this winter unscathed with anything other than the need to make up games to entertain ourselves. You know, the ones that would possibly put us directly into straight jackets if we tried to explain during a psychiatric evaluation. We had survived this brutal winter with no sicknesses...until yesterday.
Ninety dollars and forty-five minutes in a very small examining room, you can do a lot of soul searching. Why my kids find it fun/necessary to think they have to strip down to get their throat examined? I have no idea. While the very patient doctor was asking all the questions she needed, her patients were listing every single thing that ailed them. I cannot be sure but I think one patient complained of fingernail sensitivity.
Meanwhile, Atti was tearing into anything that wasn't nailed down. Opening drawers, pushing buttons and inspecting the built in stirrups at the end of the examining table. As I barricaded the door so as not to have a runner, it occurred to me that we were not going to be so lucky with this visit. Sinus infection, two cases of strep throat, and a skin eating bacteria...and it was only Monday? Not exactly sure if Atti and I have anything to diagnose yet. Fairly certain the CDC hasn't even classified what we may be brewing. We lie in wait...
This harsh winter has given many time to do a little soul searching. It's given the members of our "exclusive club of crazy" many goals to set for ourselves. You know, when we can once again venture outdoors without having to check to see if we are missing digits to frost bite. It has also, while at times maddening, found us acknowledging our triggers, our limits to lunacy, and the ability to laugh when basically there isn't anything else to do. When it's that cold, you actually have to stay indoors...and talk to each other! Foreign thought that shouldn't be, but it's true. I've told stories, heard stories, and we've made up stories. We've rearranged furniture, got creative with cooking (who am I kidding, mac-n-cheese is still a food group in this house). We've cleaned out closets, not dusted or mopped enough, but thoroughly discussed a garden.
Popcorn for dinner? Yes. While meagerly finding out guacamole isn't worth gagging over there have been triumphs. How else would kitchen-floor-spatula-Ping-Pong have been invented? Or the fact that while 'Take Your Pants Off Tuesday' is usually an afternoon event, Atti believes it isn't limited to Tuesday. The fun to be had with boredom will not probably be remembered a year from now, but it's how we are surviving. Well, a full liquor cabinet is helpful too...
Ninety dollars and forty-five minutes in a very small examining room, you can do a lot of soul searching. Why my kids find it fun/necessary to think they have to strip down to get their throat examined? I have no idea. While the very patient doctor was asking all the questions she needed, her patients were listing every single thing that ailed them. I cannot be sure but I think one patient complained of fingernail sensitivity.
Meanwhile, Atti was tearing into anything that wasn't nailed down. Opening drawers, pushing buttons and inspecting the built in stirrups at the end of the examining table. As I barricaded the door so as not to have a runner, it occurred to me that we were not going to be so lucky with this visit. Sinus infection, two cases of strep throat, and a skin eating bacteria...and it was only Monday? Not exactly sure if Atti and I have anything to diagnose yet. Fairly certain the CDC hasn't even classified what we may be brewing. We lie in wait...
This harsh winter has given many time to do a little soul searching. It's given the members of our "exclusive club of crazy" many goals to set for ourselves. You know, when we can once again venture outdoors without having to check to see if we are missing digits to frost bite. It has also, while at times maddening, found us acknowledging our triggers, our limits to lunacy, and the ability to laugh when basically there isn't anything else to do. When it's that cold, you actually have to stay indoors...and talk to each other! Foreign thought that shouldn't be, but it's true. I've told stories, heard stories, and we've made up stories. We've rearranged furniture, got creative with cooking (who am I kidding, mac-n-cheese is still a food group in this house). We've cleaned out closets, not dusted or mopped enough, but thoroughly discussed a garden.
Popcorn for dinner? Yes. While meagerly finding out guacamole isn't worth gagging over there have been triumphs. How else would kitchen-floor-spatula-Ping-Pong have been invented? Or the fact that while 'Take Your Pants Off Tuesday' is usually an afternoon event, Atti believes it isn't limited to Tuesday. The fun to be had with boredom will not probably be remembered a year from now, but it's how we are surviving. Well, a full liquor cabinet is helpful too...
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