Lone Wolf...

Fear and loathing...that's about where we are. With the new year of school literally creeping up my rear, all the old fears set in. The anxiety of going back into a schedule, homework, laundry and hoping to not forget to wear my clothes on the outside of my underwear. Single motherhood isn't always a walk in the park, add the first few days of school into that equation and cut to me mentally drinking at 7 a.m.

Don't get me wrong, with the bickering level in this house, I'm pretty sure even the Pope would drop an F-bomb. Saying I'm ready for school to start is an UNDERSTATEMENT. But, getting out of that laid back, sleep until 9 a.m., lounge in pajamas and do nothing but worry about what posts have been missed on Instagram phase? A hard rain will fall for Oscar in 72 hours. I have already lowered the boom on Nora that the "summer-time-wardrobe" will not be part of the school-time dress code, to which I rendered her speechless for about 45 minutes. I'm worried that Abe's stand-up routine, while wildly anticipated by some, will not be for his new teacher. Atti, well he just needs to be with some other kids his own age. Tonight he said to me while dancing in the living room, "I dance alone. I'm a lone wolf." We've entered and new and exciting level of strange around here. I am hoping that the time spent AWAY from each other will some how make "the heart grow fonder," but I'm not holding my breath. I am however lousy with power at the notion that with everyone out of the house, my grocery bill will lower and my house will stay cleaner.

The unspoken fear around here is that of the unknown. Lockers. I never remember a locker striking as much fear in my heart as a kid, but around here, it is all a few people can talk about. Switching classes, gym class and showering, and don't even get me started on a conversation about a need for a study hall. I actually started laughing when Oscar said he was taking one. He kind of looked at me like I was crazy. What I didn't have any hesitation in admitting is that the one time I took study hall, I did very little studying, ever. I remember being in 5th and 7th grade, but I guess that was "way back when" according to my kids, clearly age has rendered me witless to the time of my adolescence. But I have had to hear, "...well, back in the 80's, things were different than they are now." I always answer back with, "I know, it was tough. I had less electronics and more imagination." They just look at me. Karma is one tough broad, tougher is explaining that being a kid when you actually are a kid is the only chance you get...

Most of my problem, is me. I get way to strict, stressed out or caught up about dumb things and in the process miss out sometimes on the moments that make memories. I caught myself tonight. The kids were acting crazy at dinner, and clearly the tone of my voice they have gone slightly deaf to. After telling everyone to calm down, wishing the full moon would get here and take the pressure off, I noticed something. No one was bickering, no one was fighting and everyone was acting goofy and laughing- granted the neighbors probably heard as they could have woken the dead. But I caught it. I use to try to find one decent thing a day as my take-away for said day. I've forgotten that, and tonight I was reminded I need to start again in this new start of school phase. It might be my saving grace.

Tonight at dinner, we had a semi regular conversation starter- What is your rose, your bud and your thorn for the day? The rose is something you liked, the thorn something you didn't like and the bud is something you are looking forward to tomorrow. Tonight they mostly had to do with the start of school. Meeting their teachers, seeing their classrooms and finding a boyfriend for the year...WHAT? I'm not sure if Nora really meant what she was saying or just trying to get a reaction from everyone. Oscar quickly chimed in with, "You're in 1st grade, why don't you start with that and see how it goes." Finally, some wit and wisdom that didn't come out of my witless mouth.

competitive cartoon artists

I envy these moms. First of all they have it together enough to want to go to multiple ball games in a week, clearly, they have enough underwear that they don't do laundry as often as I do. They get into the game, they know the right things to cheer and they sit on the hot/cold/rainy/bug infested evenings in a bag chair, just to watch their child play a sport. I sat there the last couple of weeks, twice a week, trying to learn. Trying to watch and listen. Trying to hone some competitive instinct in me. It was probably the quietest I've ever been.

And in those weeks, I realized, I've got nothing. I haven't a competitive bone in my body. I wanted to try, for the sake of Oscar, to get into the games, but at the end of a game I was like, "well, you did your best..." Clearly, not the best sports-pep-talker. I am proud that he tried something new, even though his teammates were seasoned ball players, and took a lot of guts. Every game, when he would walk out on the field, it was like watching "Rudy" Ruettiger walk out onto the field- different sport, but same premise. The notion of wanting to do something enough to not care that you were new or inexperienced. Some might think it’s foolish, I thought it took moxie.

But, moxie wears thin at times, as eventually, I saw myself. There he was standing on the field, and not a competitive bone in his body. Things sort of started to shift. Being compared to people your age, in an area that is completely out of your wheelhouse, is difficult, let alone not a whole lot of fun. This sort of comparativeness, while I know goes on for the rest of a person's life, after a while stings. Watching my boy, who has never really played sports outside of the side yard before, at times was painful. He just looked as if he was thinking, "let's just get this over with." And near the end, I can't say I blamed him.

Then a wonderful thing happened. One of these inspiring, afore mentioned moms congratulated him. She told him that despite the fact he was new at this whole thing, he did a great job and he should be proud of himself for giving it a try. Considering my lack of sports knowledge, and even though I had said the same thing to him, it was like getting a compliment from Babe Ruth himself...and I was so very grateful!

But, through it all, I think he we learned a few valuable lessons. The one lesson, that was inevitable as he was bound to learn it in puberty, is comparing yourself to others is dangerous. Noticing all of your inadequacies rips at you from the core. As I sat there, watching him do his best, I thought, "I wonder if any of these boys are good at drawing?" I had to chuckle to myself, as it didn't matter. There's no competitive cartoon artists, or book illustrators, or authors for that matter. They find their drive someplace different within them, and there is no competition. The creative side of life is his stolen base or home run...and clearly, I hope he at least learned more baseball terms than I currently know.

...the gift of memories

Seemingly for the last few weeks we all need to wear signs stating, "Wearing pissy pants...you've been warned." It's summer, what do we have to be pissy about? It wasn't until I was doing a little reading that I realized, we're like this every year about this time. There is something just underneath the surface. Like a large break out of poison ivy that is irritated except there is nothing that can quite quell its symptoms.

Summer, even though not officially yet, has been hectic. We are trying new things and while that is great, the schedule that comes with it has been a learning experience. It is interesting to watch Oscar play baseball, he's learning a lot and it is nice to see his confidence grow. I think the experience will be teaching him more than just about the sport, and for that, I guess the hectic, whiny children on late nights is worth it. Abe has learned the value of the dollar in the summer of 2016. Volunteering to mow the lawn, for a monetary reward of course, has been helpful and interesting. He has also picked up a side job of sharpening mower blades, a job that actually pays better than mowing...I'm in the wrong business. Of course Nora wants to hire a lawyer, because she does not understand the notion of child labor laws, and feels she too should be getting paid...our lawyers are in deliberation. Atticus has taken to start his juvenile detention career early. The list of things he has pulled this summer thus far are lengthy and terrifying. Grateful for him, glad he is my last child to rear and getting him fitted for the orange jumpsuit he will possibly have to wear in the future...I'm keeping an open mind and a stocked liquor cabinet.

Writing every day, while it is a great opportunity, makes jotting down my little quandaries or musings sort of the very last thing I want to do when I get my kids all snuggled in their beds. While my mind has plenty of things to say, my brain says, "Who gives a crap?" Then the other day, I met a man who is a retired professor and has written/illustrated 29 books. He was rife with stories and insights, his life was fascinating and his outlook was positive. I honestly didn't want to stop listening to him or asking questions. This man reminded me that if you have a creative mind and something to say, be grateful and acknowledge it. Who knew a short conversation with and 85 year old man would do so much.

I never know if I should bring it up, or just let it ride with the topic of Father's Day. It is my third year pulling double duty on this holiday. It's not like they don't know it is coming, as the commercialization of all Hallmark holidays, it's all you hear about if you watch TV or listen to the radio. Our old tradition of celebrating every month on the 7th, the day that Jason passed away, started to seem unnecessary. We had grown out of needing that, and frankly it was getting costly to celebrate. But yet, Father's Day is Sunday...the kids have wonderful grandfathers and men in their lives that are important, but it still just isn't the same. I teeter this time of year wondering if being open and inquisitive about their feelings really isn't just ripping off a scab. Or worse yet, worried that I need some ridiculous gratification or sign that they are, "all good."

I guess what it all boils down to isn't necessarily Father's Day, it is the blatant reminder that there is no "Father" in this house. It pains me to really think of what they are missing. It pains me that their memories of their dad are so very distant that they might just disappear. It pains me in knowing that they'll never know their dad the way I did. It is a struggle for me, because I cannot recreate memories for them of their dad, other than a story. I cannot give them, what deep down, they all really need. And the kid getting fitted for the orange jumpsuit? He has nothing but pictures and stories. It is more than just a gift giving holiday to this household, it is a forever reminder that we are different...and I can't really do anything to make it better.

Then, completely out of nowhere, something wonderful happened. Without any prompting, or discussion on the matter, my kids all mentioned something yesterday about their dad. Little tidbits they remembered, from the way he tickled them, to some funny thing he said once or just the notion that if they could speak to him every day they would. It was like they were reading my slightly sad heart and mind, and did what I wasn't sure they could anymore. They reminded me that they still remember. It was like a gift that I probably could never pick out the right words to describe. It was the best Father's Day gift this mom who is pulling double duty could ever ask for...the gift of memories.

...all about facts...

So, it's Mother's Day. That one day a year when you unwrap things that have to be explained to you. That one day a year when suddenly the small people in your house remember that they indeed were not raised thus far by a pack of wolves. That one day a year when most undoubtedly as a mother, you aren't doing much of anything you'd actually "like" to do and merely saying thank you for all of the above. Except the raised by wolves part, that is pretty much every day of my life, but it's a cautionary tale of motherhood, the likes of which are not for the faint of heart and the moment you see the first reason you became a mother, you know your life will never be the same.

I was given my first Mother's Day gift this morning at 6:25 a.m. while buying doughnuts at the convenience store with Atticus. After picking out every sprinkle covered doughnut we could find, we went to pay, and it seems be paid with less than a compliment. The cashier said, “Is Grandma getting you all the sprinkled doughnuts today?" UMMMM, WHAT? I was quick to say, "...well, happy Mother's Day to me!" As we were walking away Atticus said, "Grandma? What?" My thoughts exactly, pal.

The fact that Mother's Day coincides with commencement weekend at the school where I work and all of the kids' end of the school year festivities, I almost want to say can we put a pin in this and forget about it entirely? Is it wrong that I am too tired to be happy that I am a mother? I love my children, but let's face it, this time of year you are looking for whoever slipped them Jolt Cola when you weren't looking. I fight the urge to yell, CALM DOWN about every 20 minutes to them. I realize that is an oxymoron. It got me thinking about how I could make this day easier.

The phrase that my best friend and I like to coin when necessary, "it's not better or worse, it's just different," comes to mind. This year I wanted to cut a few of my reasons for motherhood off at the pass. I wasn't asking for a grandiose display of motherhood, nothing overly planned or expensive. This year for Mother's Day, I was merely telling what I didn't want. The list isn't long, but poignant and simple...or so I thought.

 I don't want:

*breakfast in bed...coffee in bed...no food or drink in bed-I hope I made the point.

*nothing done that I would normally do myself-no cooking, rearranging, or home maintenance (lawn mowing and babysitting excluded).

 I do want:

*respect-for myself and others

*love-love shown to each other, kind words

*no arguing with me about anything and no arguing with anyone else (yeah, I know, dare to dream)

Will any of these things happen? Will any of these non-gift items be bestowed? Will I get to just sit on my porch in tranquility, peace and quiet? These are all great questions that frankly I'm too scared to answer. I had my tiniest titan fall asleep on my side early, and laughed my butt off with the rest of my kids while curled up on the couch this evening. I wore my kids out today/tonight in the smallest of hopes that perhaps, just perhaps they'd sleep past 6:15 a.m. tomorrow morning...I'm a simple girl.

 For me, it's simple. In fact it's so simple and clearly something I've said enough because I heard Atticus say it the other day, "every day is Mother's Day." It's nothing about fiction and all about facts...The fact that I get to watch these once-so-small-people grow into these totally individual beings is mind-blowing. The fact that I get to be the reason they are in this world telling a joke and totally nailing the punchline. The fact that I get to be the last person they speak to at night and the first person they speak to in the morning...at times WAY earlier than I'd like. The fact that with every mental choke hold they put me into, I know that I get to say with pride, that's my kid...and he's peeing into the street.

 

...dare to dream...

With my "Wildcat Blue" bag packed, I was ready to start off on this new adventure...a job.
Manic is the best way to describe how I felt before starting this job, ask anyone who I'm close with, they'll more than likely attest that I was the closest they've seen near crazy in a while. The chance to start over again is thrilling and terrifying...the chance to do something that I enjoy is indescribable. It's more than just a job, it's a job doing what I like to do, but never been paid.

To grasp the ability to understand that you are being given a chance in a world where you thought you knew what your roll would always be, possibly downplaying it as just what you do...as if being a mom wasn't really a job worth bragging about. The night I found out I was offered this job position, I thanked my kids. When they found out they cheered, hugged and high fived me. I was grateful for their support, probably needing it more than I really wanted to mention to them. After telling them thank you, Nora turned to me and said, "...mom, you make all of our wishes happen, now it's time to make your own wishes happen". To which Abe said, "...wow, Nora...that's deep".

The fact that I'm out of my house, well it's funny to me that I'm getting paid to enjoy it. I noticed after my first two weeks working, it's nice to actually have a name...and people use it. Hearing a child say mom, momma, mommy, MOM...being at work was like a break from reality. Sitting at a computer being slightly terrified about my lack of technical ability, being asked to do things that didn't entail making a meal, snack, cleaning a mess, or breaking up a fight...closely resembles paradise. The chance to do something that I have dreamt of doing at first made me worry, what if it didn't live up to the dream?

The women I work for and with are remarkable. Young, talented, creative, thoughtful, clever and dedicated are how I would describe them. While I am older than they are, they are no doubt teaching me more than they will ever know, besides literally teaching me how to everything else. I'm impressed by their passion for their job, and their understanding of the college we work for. They have seriously eased me into going back into the realm of the work force, and my gratitude to them is unfailing. I'm only hopeful that someday I can keep up with them.

My decision to go back to work always weighed on the notion that the right job will come along when it is time. I knew eventually, if I was patient something would come along. I seriously feel like it was an opportunity given to me that I couldn't pass up. I'm starting to realize that life sometimes gives you things to possibly reward where you've been. I have an ongoing joke with a wonderful friend that she and I are "shit creek" survivors. As if it were some actual destination that we stumbled into and we've slowly been trying to find out way out of it. I feel like the opportunities that I have today, I probably would never have been given if I hadn't had to wade through the creek a while to learn a few things out about myself and life.

Even though it's not how I planned my life to end up, I'm so glad I am where I am today. My silver linings, lucky for me are more visible now than ever. My friends-who've seen me through shit creek, thank you. You have given me the courage to keep going, your willingness to help me make this all work, and your love that I cherish. My kids, even if the pre-teen-terror has started- thank you for showing me who I can be, believing in who I am, and reminding me how grateful I am to be your mom. The fact of the matter is, sometimes you have to dare to dream...take the dare, and enjoy the adventure.

Detachment from reality, party of 5?...your table is now ready...

I watched as a little boy was walked from preschool to daycare...my heart ached and my eyes welled with tears...was I ready for this? Was I ready to let go? Was I ready to contemplate Atti taking that same walk? I'm programmed differently. My self-worth is not a job outside...my self-worth is indoors, in a laundry room or answering questions from a seated position on the toilet...while I was only going in for an interview, was I ready for what might come of it?

 Let me first just say, I am lucky. Since my first child was born Jason and I always agreed that someone should stay home with our kids. Was it always easy? No. Did it mean we went without some things? Yes. Was it at times maddening? Yes. But, it was something we always said was important to us. After Jason passed away, none of that changed. It's been difficult to budget things, but really nothing has changed, and for me, it was one less thing to worry about. It was one less thing in our lives full of immediate change that didn't really have to. It was possibly delaying the inevitable, but it was what I knew. I am grateful to get to stay at home with my kids. I get to do things with them any time of the day, and while at times it is exhausting I am so blessed to be able to do so. It is where I find my pride, solace, it is my business card...my kids.

 Cut to me, going in for my first job interview in 14 years...I'm older, yielding an antique skill set, and completely out of my wheel house knowing how to sell myself. While it is a job that would be exciting and fulfilling, basically a job I have been secretly wanting for years...my self-worth has never come from a paycheck or a title.  I felt like I was impersonating myself at times. I felt so conflicted that I prayed it didn't show on my face. On one hand I know that I will have to be joining the work force outside of my pretty brick house. But it's a slightly terrifying notion to think of all that will be changing when and if that does happen. As I left the morning of interviews I wondered, would I be able to pull any of this off? "Detachment from reality, party of 5?" your table is now ready...

My mind raced to the countless hours in the past as a stay at home mom that I half longed for adult interaction. It was quickly thwarted by the notion of Atti spending his out of school hours with someone else. Was it guilt or OCD that had me teetering? In the hours before the interview I felt like I was going to puke...nerves, fear, and anxiety set in. In messaging my best friend April I found the phrase that would push me through the rest of the morning, I literally chanted it in my head. It was simply this, "...I know this is scary, but you have made it through far worse..." She was completely correct. If this was meant to be it will be. If it isn't, I'm still going to never get to pee alone.

 I was asked during the interview about my worst trait. While I mentally cataloged the multitude that I have, my mind briefly brushed over the notion of change. And I realized in that moment, the horizon has changed. The view from my window while still the same, everyone is now tall enough to see out of it. I cannot confine or hide behind being just a stay at home mom any longer. I'm not betting on getting the job I interviewed for, I did make sure to thank my interviewers for the opportunity to be interviewed. While I might not be in the workforce saddle yet...it might be time to saddle up to some change...

...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!