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...
Thursday, May 1, 2014
Saturday, April 12, 2014
...this is livin'...
So...there are these days. They sort of sneak up on you. You have a plan, you've set a goal, and it appears you're reaching it. Sure you had to hand out two rounds of Popsicles to get it done. Yes, you had to let your nine year old use hedge trimmers (and he still has 10 fingers score!). Undoubtedly, you had to invent some 'game' so that you could clean out the garage fridge, and rake the front yard...you made it through the first round of things you want to do, and it's only 10:30? SNAP!
Clearly, the Popsicles weren't enough. The 'game' got old, and frankly, the longer the kids were outside, they knew they were in for more chores. Frankly, other than making dinner, I didn't have anything else planned...other than getting dirty. Really dirty, like the kind that leaves a ring in the tub kind of dirty. It was the most beautiful day we've had all year long, and we were going to soak it up, but first a little break.
Belly up to the counter at Steak and Shake were we. Oscar was worried, sitting so close to the workers. I think his direct quote was, "they will see me stuffing my face..." I told him, why should I always get to be the one to enjoy that? In my mind, I took a little picture. I took a picture of them, oddly enough sitting in chronological order at the counter. Watching the cooks, and shake makers do their thing. In my head, I wanted to remember them, sitting there earning their chore's reward. Atticus, he made out like a bandit, a milkshake all for not eating dirt...
Later, Nora and I cut up a little watermelon, she's been begging me for one for months. All the while I knew she'd eat one piece and be done. She ate two, but at some point I did hear her say, "...this is livin'" I started the grill, the smalls started digging (the perpetual dirt pile we need to have so they have some place to dig) and Oscar and I started talking. He wanted to know what we were grilling and could he help. Much to his surprise, I said sure...I mean, he survived hedge trimmers, let's move on to fire, shall we?
After sorting out three meals worth of meat to grill, no one but Oscar and I wanted to be outside. I started a bath for the smalls, and Abe asked if he could supervise. Much to his surprise, I said yes. I told him and the smalls NO SPLASHING and I'd be back in 3 minutes. In the snippets of time spent indoors and outdoors there was quality there. The topic of "Geek-dom" came up with Oscar while he was a grill master. I assured him he wasn't. I told him, he was like his dad in so many ways it was astounding, and he wasn't a geek. I checked on Abe and the tub'o'smalls and they were having a blast being silly and loud enough to wake the dead. The day was crazy, and beautiful, and unlike any one we've had in so very long...there was nothing routine about it.
At the 'meat-o-rama dinner' (as Oscar called it), we talked. We told stories. Oscar's story was about a mom that he saw at his school. "...and you know mom, she had a tattoo on her back right above her pant line? And so-in-so said, well that's inappropriate!" I thought the explanation of a tramp stamp wouldn't be necessary at this juncture...more of a Thanksgiving lesson to be learned. We laughed at each other and talked about what we liked most about the day. In my head, I knew some of them. Atticus enjoyed running in the back yard with no shoes or pants on. Nora liked planting flowers seeds in her flower pots. But, I was the most surprised by the Talls response. Abe liked giving the smalls a bath. Oscar liked talking to me outside...
If we never have another day like this, it would be okay. I was reminded that skirting the routine is not only good for you, but at times necessary. I was proven today, that letting go of control, can not only be rewarding for those who want it, but make life a hell of a lot easier. I lay my head down tonight, knowing that it isn't always about quantity, but the quality that can push you through to the next great day...
Clearly, the Popsicles weren't enough. The 'game' got old, and frankly, the longer the kids were outside, they knew they were in for more chores. Frankly, other than making dinner, I didn't have anything else planned...other than getting dirty. Really dirty, like the kind that leaves a ring in the tub kind of dirty. It was the most beautiful day we've had all year long, and we were going to soak it up, but first a little break.
Belly up to the counter at Steak and Shake were we. Oscar was worried, sitting so close to the workers. I think his direct quote was, "they will see me stuffing my face..." I told him, why should I always get to be the one to enjoy that? In my mind, I took a little picture. I took a picture of them, oddly enough sitting in chronological order at the counter. Watching the cooks, and shake makers do their thing. In my head, I wanted to remember them, sitting there earning their chore's reward. Atticus, he made out like a bandit, a milkshake all for not eating dirt...
Later, Nora and I cut up a little watermelon, she's been begging me for one for months. All the while I knew she'd eat one piece and be done. She ate two, but at some point I did hear her say, "...this is livin'" I started the grill, the smalls started digging (the perpetual dirt pile we need to have so they have some place to dig) and Oscar and I started talking. He wanted to know what we were grilling and could he help. Much to his surprise, I said sure...I mean, he survived hedge trimmers, let's move on to fire, shall we?
After sorting out three meals worth of meat to grill, no one but Oscar and I wanted to be outside. I started a bath for the smalls, and Abe asked if he could supervise. Much to his surprise, I said yes. I told him and the smalls NO SPLASHING and I'd be back in 3 minutes. In the snippets of time spent indoors and outdoors there was quality there. The topic of "Geek-dom" came up with Oscar while he was a grill master. I assured him he wasn't. I told him, he was like his dad in so many ways it was astounding, and he wasn't a geek. I checked on Abe and the tub'o'smalls and they were having a blast being silly and loud enough to wake the dead. The day was crazy, and beautiful, and unlike any one we've had in so very long...there was nothing routine about it.
At the 'meat-o-rama dinner' (as Oscar called it), we talked. We told stories. Oscar's story was about a mom that he saw at his school. "...and you know mom, she had a tattoo on her back right above her pant line? And so-in-so said, well that's inappropriate!" I thought the explanation of a tramp stamp wouldn't be necessary at this juncture...more of a Thanksgiving lesson to be learned. We laughed at each other and talked about what we liked most about the day. In my head, I knew some of them. Atticus enjoyed running in the back yard with no shoes or pants on. Nora liked planting flowers seeds in her flower pots. But, I was the most surprised by the Talls response. Abe liked giving the smalls a bath. Oscar liked talking to me outside...
If we never have another day like this, it would be okay. I was reminded that skirting the routine is not only good for you, but at times necessary. I was proven today, that letting go of control, can not only be rewarding for those who want it, but make life a hell of a lot easier. I lay my head down tonight, knowing that it isn't always about quantity, but the quality that can push you through to the next great day...
...you're gonna want this...
Time is an interesting thing. The older you get, the faster it flies by you. When you have kids, it seems like one minute you are wishing for certain stages to end. Before you know it, they've moved on four stages in the blink of an eye. My ongoing battle, both physically and mentally is knowing I never really spend enough time with my kids...no, I'm not on glue.
The time I spend with my kids, well, is constant. However, it is really rare to spend one on one time with any of them. For me, there are at times just not enough hours in my mental time clock. So, it's come to the point that I am starting to schedule it. When you start to feel like you're living with strangers who never pick up their underwear, you've missed out on something, or at least that's how I feel. The other night, I scheduled one such event, to take Abe and Oscar to confession. Abe was making his first confession, Oscar was unaware that he too would be going. They were a little nervous and I, well, I was really dreading it...
I have admittedly dropped the ball on a few things in my life...more than a few things. There is just no easy way to do all that 'needs' to be done with four kids by myself...I'm not sure I can even use that excuse anymore, but oh well. So, we were going to confession. Nora of course thought it was a party that she should also attend, but I lowered the boom on that. Abe was more nervous about what he should say. "So, what should I tell him?", he would ask Oscar or I. Oscar, being the closet theologian that he is, gave him a list of respectable 'sins' that would pass. Letting him know that he didn't want to go overboard his first time. I let Abe know that while Oscar's degree from the University of Phoenix was in the mail, it was really just up to his own heart to know.
We were there. The tension in our pew was palpable. I gave Abe a leaflet that was in the back of church about examining one's conscience, he gripped it tightly, glancing at it occasionally. At one point, I offered him an 'out'. At first, I wasn't sure if I was proud of that moment, but now I kind of am. I basically told him, in a hushed whisper, "...if you are not ready to do this, you don't have to. This is a commitment, and if you don't feel like you are ready to make it, there is always next year, no big deal..." Honestly, sometimes I wonder... Just because you are in the second grade and everyone else is buying the white dress or navy tie, does that mean you are ready? Does that mean you even understand that you are now an active member in what goes on every Sunday? Does any of this make sense to anyone?...that might be another blog.
So, it's time to go in...there are about a dozen people there, and I have a sitter at the house and I've promised ice cream afterward. I looked at him as if to scream GO ALREADY, and he just looked at me. I thought, be an example. I got up and I was the first one in confession. I came out, noticing my kids were in two different lines behind grey haired women. I thought, well they figured that one out I guess. I watched as they went in their separate rooms. Oscar came out nearly running with a smile on his face. He sat down next to me in the pew, as if forgetting where he was, and said "What's up!?" I whispered, are you forgetting anything? He was, he knelt.
The other door opened. Abe came out. He walked right up to the girl that was next to go to in and hands her his leaflet and says, "...you're gonna want this this..." I nearly died. Clearly he found his confidence in that room, and for that matter, figured out what to say. He also forgot where he was for a moment, bouncing into the pew as if he was flouncing down on the couch next to me. I repeated my earlier whisper, and he knelt for a moment.
Upon the van door shutting, they were chattering like a couple of ladies at a card party. Why they liked their priest? Was it dark in there? It was loud in my room. Did you face your priest? Mine had a soothing voice...But the best question was, "...so Mom, what did you tell the priest?" I asked them what kind of ice cream they wanted and changed the subject...
The time I spend with my kids, well, is constant. However, it is really rare to spend one on one time with any of them. For me, there are at times just not enough hours in my mental time clock. So, it's come to the point that I am starting to schedule it. When you start to feel like you're living with strangers who never pick up their underwear, you've missed out on something, or at least that's how I feel. The other night, I scheduled one such event, to take Abe and Oscar to confession. Abe was making his first confession, Oscar was unaware that he too would be going. They were a little nervous and I, well, I was really dreading it...
I have admittedly dropped the ball on a few things in my life...more than a few things. There is just no easy way to do all that 'needs' to be done with four kids by myself...I'm not sure I can even use that excuse anymore, but oh well. So, we were going to confession. Nora of course thought it was a party that she should also attend, but I lowered the boom on that. Abe was more nervous about what he should say. "So, what should I tell him?", he would ask Oscar or I. Oscar, being the closet theologian that he is, gave him a list of respectable 'sins' that would pass. Letting him know that he didn't want to go overboard his first time. I let Abe know that while Oscar's degree from the University of Phoenix was in the mail, it was really just up to his own heart to know.
We were there. The tension in our pew was palpable. I gave Abe a leaflet that was in the back of church about examining one's conscience, he gripped it tightly, glancing at it occasionally. At one point, I offered him an 'out'. At first, I wasn't sure if I was proud of that moment, but now I kind of am. I basically told him, in a hushed whisper, "...if you are not ready to do this, you don't have to. This is a commitment, and if you don't feel like you are ready to make it, there is always next year, no big deal..." Honestly, sometimes I wonder... Just because you are in the second grade and everyone else is buying the white dress or navy tie, does that mean you are ready? Does that mean you even understand that you are now an active member in what goes on every Sunday? Does any of this make sense to anyone?...that might be another blog.
So, it's time to go in...there are about a dozen people there, and I have a sitter at the house and I've promised ice cream afterward. I looked at him as if to scream GO ALREADY, and he just looked at me. I thought, be an example. I got up and I was the first one in confession. I came out, noticing my kids were in two different lines behind grey haired women. I thought, well they figured that one out I guess. I watched as they went in their separate rooms. Oscar came out nearly running with a smile on his face. He sat down next to me in the pew, as if forgetting where he was, and said "What's up!?" I whispered, are you forgetting anything? He was, he knelt.
The other door opened. Abe came out. He walked right up to the girl that was next to go to in and hands her his leaflet and says, "...you're gonna want this this..." I nearly died. Clearly he found his confidence in that room, and for that matter, figured out what to say. He also forgot where he was for a moment, bouncing into the pew as if he was flouncing down on the couch next to me. I repeated my earlier whisper, and he knelt for a moment.
Upon the van door shutting, they were chattering like a couple of ladies at a card party. Why they liked their priest? Was it dark in there? It was loud in my room. Did you face your priest? Mine had a soothing voice...But the best question was, "...so Mom, what did you tell the priest?" I asked them what kind of ice cream they wanted and changed the subject...
Thursday, April 3, 2014
...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...
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...
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
...heir to the thrown...
This is a cautionary tale... A letter to myself, not today but more like two years ago. Also, this is a reminder to anyone reading this, life is fleeting. Not in a "dooms-day" sort of way, more like an "enjoy-every-moment" kind of way...even the ones that aren't enjoyable, as those are the times you learn the most about who you are.
I was going through a couple of boxes today. Their whereabouts have been known for over a year, I just hadn't ever gotten around to getting them. The contents of which came from Jason's office. His day to day "stuff" he had cluttering his office. Pictures he had on his wall, frames he had on his desk. The rouge plate and fork that had gone missing from my cabinets years ago. DVDs he would play during a boring work day for background noise I suppose. Pictures the kids had drawn him over the years. Nothing on the surface that is that mind bending really, but clearly I was avoiding going through this stuff. In doing so, all I could notice is what was missing.
I met someone the other day I had only ever known via Facebook. He had been high school friends with Jason. He complimented me on how he thought I was doing. He remarked that I always seemed to have a positive outlook on life. I told him thank you, that it always wasn't that way. I figured I should have to PAY a copay for a therapy session, and told him in reality I might owe him money. It's interesting to what degree perception has when you look at life. His comment lifted me up, and for a moment I reminded myself to ponder that when I'm just about to have a Mommy Dearest moment.
The grief I go through isn't for myself. I've said that many times, and I only hope I can convey what I mean. It's like trying to fix something that isn't even there, doesn't exist to the human eye. My grief, my struggle just isn't for me. I suppose I feel like I have so many years of memories, that I don't have to strain to conjure them up. For my kids, it's completely different. Today I was reminded of that fact. Today, I thought to myself, wouldn't it have been therapeutic to be able to tell myself two years ago what I would need right now...so here goes...
"Dearest Kate~ It's me, I'm you...older, wiser, more tired, more caffeinated you. I don't want to spoil the details of what your life will be, so I'm giving you some advice. Take it.
You are going to think this is crazy...take more pictures! No, I haven't been hitting the bottle. Take more pictures of the kids and their Dad. You wouldn't believe the stunning lack of pictures...of anyone with Jason accept the heir to the thrown, Oscar. His picture has been over taken, but seriously, there are three other kids in this house aren't there? They need to have a ton of pictures taken with this man, if for no other reason that to just spark up some memory. Who cares if you're having a good hair day? You aren't someone they will need to remember, you'll be all they see and it'll drive you AND them crazy.
Make memories for these kids. Some day soon, all you will be able to think of is the 'should-haves' that never happened. Then your mind will think of the 'would-haves' that could have happened. Then lastly, when you are seriously wrecked, the 'never-got-to-haves' set in...and well from there it's nearly rock bottom. Your memories are yours forever, but the ones your kids have, well they are fleeting at best. With every passing day, a scant picture doesn't bring back what was there, and it gets harder for them. Those memories, I hope will help them rally through the dark days.
Remind yourself that you have GREAT kids. They will be your rock and your reason for living even more than you would ever think at this moment. Someday it will just be them, and you need them fiercely. Involve their Dad in your routine with them more. Yeah, he might want to watch the game and yeah, you are a control freak. But, when you are asked in years to come how HE would read a bedtime story? And you come up empty answered? It sucks in such a way that is maddening. Also, on the 'maddening' theme, lose your shit once in a while. Doesn't make sense? Well, there will be times when people nearly EXPECT you to not be on your A-game...so lose it. Your controlling ways may help you out, but honestly, you won't get a prize later for 'holding it all together' when you had the chance...I'm just saying.
Lastly, pick yourself up, keep those legs shaved, and the cocktails coming. You have absolutely no CLUE what life has in store for you...I'm just merely amending your life's guide. Like you seeing yourself from behind in a department store mirror, hindsight isn't too lovely in that light either."
I was going through a couple of boxes today. Their whereabouts have been known for over a year, I just hadn't ever gotten around to getting them. The contents of which came from Jason's office. His day to day "stuff" he had cluttering his office. Pictures he had on his wall, frames he had on his desk. The rouge plate and fork that had gone missing from my cabinets years ago. DVDs he would play during a boring work day for background noise I suppose. Pictures the kids had drawn him over the years. Nothing on the surface that is that mind bending really, but clearly I was avoiding going through this stuff. In doing so, all I could notice is what was missing.
I met someone the other day I had only ever known via Facebook. He had been high school friends with Jason. He complimented me on how he thought I was doing. He remarked that I always seemed to have a positive outlook on life. I told him thank you, that it always wasn't that way. I figured I should have to PAY a copay for a therapy session, and told him in reality I might owe him money. It's interesting to what degree perception has when you look at life. His comment lifted me up, and for a moment I reminded myself to ponder that when I'm just about to have a Mommy Dearest moment.
The grief I go through isn't for myself. I've said that many times, and I only hope I can convey what I mean. It's like trying to fix something that isn't even there, doesn't exist to the human eye. My grief, my struggle just isn't for me. I suppose I feel like I have so many years of memories, that I don't have to strain to conjure them up. For my kids, it's completely different. Today I was reminded of that fact. Today, I thought to myself, wouldn't it have been therapeutic to be able to tell myself two years ago what I would need right now...so here goes...
"Dearest Kate~ It's me, I'm you...older, wiser, more tired, more caffeinated you. I don't want to spoil the details of what your life will be, so I'm giving you some advice. Take it.
You are going to think this is crazy...take more pictures! No, I haven't been hitting the bottle. Take more pictures of the kids and their Dad. You wouldn't believe the stunning lack of pictures...of anyone with Jason accept the heir to the thrown, Oscar. His picture has been over taken, but seriously, there are three other kids in this house aren't there? They need to have a ton of pictures taken with this man, if for no other reason that to just spark up some memory. Who cares if you're having a good hair day? You aren't someone they will need to remember, you'll be all they see and it'll drive you AND them crazy.
Make memories for these kids. Some day soon, all you will be able to think of is the 'should-haves' that never happened. Then your mind will think of the 'would-haves' that could have happened. Then lastly, when you are seriously wrecked, the 'never-got-to-haves' set in...and well from there it's nearly rock bottom. Your memories are yours forever, but the ones your kids have, well they are fleeting at best. With every passing day, a scant picture doesn't bring back what was there, and it gets harder for them. Those memories, I hope will help them rally through the dark days.
Remind yourself that you have GREAT kids. They will be your rock and your reason for living even more than you would ever think at this moment. Someday it will just be them, and you need them fiercely. Involve their Dad in your routine with them more. Yeah, he might want to watch the game and yeah, you are a control freak. But, when you are asked in years to come how HE would read a bedtime story? And you come up empty answered? It sucks in such a way that is maddening. Also, on the 'maddening' theme, lose your shit once in a while. Doesn't make sense? Well, there will be times when people nearly EXPECT you to not be on your A-game...so lose it. Your controlling ways may help you out, but honestly, you won't get a prize later for 'holding it all together' when you had the chance...I'm just saying.
Lastly, pick yourself up, keep those legs shaved, and the cocktails coming. You have absolutely no CLUE what life has in store for you...I'm just merely amending your life's guide. Like you seeing yourself from behind in a department store mirror, hindsight isn't too lovely in that light either."
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Lousy with power?
The morning dialog, usually occurring about 7:57 am...Today it was the 'Mom vs. Abe Battle Royale'
"It's cold out, you have to wear hats..."
"What? Why? Can't we wear hoods instead? I don't want to wear a hat..."
"It's hat weather. It's cold out. I don't enjoy living at the medical group. And lastly, I'm lousy with power, put a hat on..."
"I can't find my hat, I guess I'll wear a hood..."
Cut to me pulling a hat out of the basket, and handing it to him.
"Wait, that hat? I don't want to wear that hat?!"
"Tell that to the hat you lost, we are waiting on you, let's go..."
Meanwhile, all of this is transpiring in front of the neighbor kid we give a ride to school, who rarely wears a coat and never wears a hat. Ironic?
Upon dropping the fellas off, I see Abe and tell him to put his hat on. As they are walking away from the van, I'm watching them from my rear view mirror. Watching. Watching. Keeping my eyes fixed on Abe. He looks around chatting it up with his friends. And then it happens...he looks around one more time and as he is crossing the street, he takes the hat off. It's that moment...the one when you realize, we're there...
We are there. The point when you see defiance, in its simplest form I realize, happen. When the kid who usually follows the rules, goes sneaky. I know this is small. But it's the turning point I guess that stings a little. It's the never ending battle of trying to convince your kids that you are ALL KNOWING, ALL SEEING, ALL POWERFUL. I've had a couple of instances before when the Talls act like rum-nuts and I shock them with my 'powers'. It's hard to convince kids that you were one time one of them, you know the game. It's hard to make them understand that the sneakier they are, there is a little trust that is chipped away.
So, in that moment my heart sank a little...I know I have good kids. I know they are going to pull crap like this. I know this is merely the beginning of the hijinks that will ensue in the next 15 years. I know when they are in school they probably act like ass hats just like other grade school boys. I guess, I just hadn't mentally prepared myself. I needed my Tuesday dose of reality, other than 'Pants off Tuesday'. The only good thing about any of this? I have 6 hours think about how I'll deal with it. Contemplating finding every hat in the house and having him wear them tomorrow...Still kicking things around...However hilariously, as I'm writing this Atticus decided to go into the kitchen and turn on the garbage disposal, scaring the crap out of himself. Score one for the ALL KNOWING, SEEING, AND POWERFUL!
"It's cold out, you have to wear hats..."
"What? Why? Can't we wear hoods instead? I don't want to wear a hat..."
"It's hat weather. It's cold out. I don't enjoy living at the medical group. And lastly, I'm lousy with power, put a hat on..."
"I can't find my hat, I guess I'll wear a hood..."
Cut to me pulling a hat out of the basket, and handing it to him.
"Wait, that hat? I don't want to wear that hat?!"
"Tell that to the hat you lost, we are waiting on you, let's go..."
Meanwhile, all of this is transpiring in front of the neighbor kid we give a ride to school, who rarely wears a coat and never wears a hat. Ironic?
Upon dropping the fellas off, I see Abe and tell him to put his hat on. As they are walking away from the van, I'm watching them from my rear view mirror. Watching. Watching. Keeping my eyes fixed on Abe. He looks around chatting it up with his friends. And then it happens...he looks around one more time and as he is crossing the street, he takes the hat off. It's that moment...the one when you realize, we're there...
We are there. The point when you see defiance, in its simplest form I realize, happen. When the kid who usually follows the rules, goes sneaky. I know this is small. But it's the turning point I guess that stings a little. It's the never ending battle of trying to convince your kids that you are ALL KNOWING, ALL SEEING, ALL POWERFUL. I've had a couple of instances before when the Talls act like rum-nuts and I shock them with my 'powers'. It's hard to convince kids that you were one time one of them, you know the game. It's hard to make them understand that the sneakier they are, there is a little trust that is chipped away.
So, in that moment my heart sank a little...I know I have good kids. I know they are going to pull crap like this. I know this is merely the beginning of the hijinks that will ensue in the next 15 years. I know when they are in school they probably act like ass hats just like other grade school boys. I guess, I just hadn't mentally prepared myself. I needed my Tuesday dose of reality, other than 'Pants off Tuesday'. The only good thing about any of this? I have 6 hours think about how I'll deal with it. Contemplating finding every hat in the house and having him wear them tomorrow...Still kicking things around...However hilariously, as I'm writing this Atticus decided to go into the kitchen and turn on the garbage disposal, scaring the crap out of himself. Score one for the ALL KNOWING, SEEING, AND POWERFUL!
Monday, March 17, 2014
...the vaguely awesome cover band...
There's something about leaving your familiar surroundings and changing it up a little. I never used to be this way. I would rarely go out, voting for mom wear, watching TV on a Saturday night. Home is where it's comfortable, right? I'm not sure if it's because I'm out numbered here. I'm not sure if it's because I don't have enough adult interaction during my day to day. I've said it before, and I'll continue to say it...sometimes you have to go away for a little while to appreciate where you are...
This could mean a multitude of things. Mentally checking out? Yeah, I'm guilty of that at a certain time of day. At times about 45 minutes before I actually should. Sometimes it's getting engrossed in a project that is special to you. Sometimes it's closing the door, turning off the light and being able to hear nothing more than the sound of your own breathing. Then there are those times, when you have to get out of your mom gear. Jason used to always ask, "...who are you getting all dolled up for?" I used to say it was for him. But really, it was for me. You slap on a little make-up. Wear your high heels. Get out of your house and look forward to not only being with friends, but also talking to complete strangers.
Mingle with the people!...those who are over 5 feet tall. I was told by a psychic one time, the only way she saw me being able to really unwind is if I weren't in the solitude of my own room, but in a room FULL of people. I found that odd when I first heard it, but she was sort of right. She probably knew that already too. It's nice to escape, if for only a scant couple of hours. No one knows you are some one's mom. No one knows you do 2+ loads of laundry a day. No one is wise to the fact you can change a diaper with your eyes closed. No one knows that while you are busting a FAT MOVE to a vaguely awesome cover band, you are mentally calculating how you will drive by a gas station on your way home to get doughnuts for tomorrow's breakfast.
There's always a moment. That moment when I'm getting ready to leave the house. I kiss my kids goodbye, and look at them...really look at them. In that moment, I hope they know I'm better for having them. While I'm tired of their bickering, tattling, rough housing that day, and I started earning a night out before the sun came up. As soon as I cross the thresh hold out our door, I enjoy the silence, but sort of miss them already. Hoping they understand, sometimes I have to go away every once and a while to really appreciate where I am...
This could mean a multitude of things. Mentally checking out? Yeah, I'm guilty of that at a certain time of day. At times about 45 minutes before I actually should. Sometimes it's getting engrossed in a project that is special to you. Sometimes it's closing the door, turning off the light and being able to hear nothing more than the sound of your own breathing. Then there are those times, when you have to get out of your mom gear. Jason used to always ask, "...who are you getting all dolled up for?" I used to say it was for him. But really, it was for me. You slap on a little make-up. Wear your high heels. Get out of your house and look forward to not only being with friends, but also talking to complete strangers.
Mingle with the people!...those who are over 5 feet tall. I was told by a psychic one time, the only way she saw me being able to really unwind is if I weren't in the solitude of my own room, but in a room FULL of people. I found that odd when I first heard it, but she was sort of right. She probably knew that already too. It's nice to escape, if for only a scant couple of hours. No one knows you are some one's mom. No one knows you do 2+ loads of laundry a day. No one is wise to the fact you can change a diaper with your eyes closed. No one knows that while you are busting a FAT MOVE to a vaguely awesome cover band, you are mentally calculating how you will drive by a gas station on your way home to get doughnuts for tomorrow's breakfast.
There's always a moment. That moment when I'm getting ready to leave the house. I kiss my kids goodbye, and look at them...really look at them. In that moment, I hope they know I'm better for having them. While I'm tired of their bickering, tattling, rough housing that day, and I started earning a night out before the sun came up. As soon as I cross the thresh hold out our door, I enjoy the silence, but sort of miss them already. Hoping they understand, sometimes I have to go away every once and a while to really appreciate where I am...
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