The Day My Mom Bought the Wrong Fridge

...it happened...it was only a matter of time...While the death of an appliance isn't really that big of a deal, to someone who has never bought a refrigerator, it's slightly terrifying. I'm thrifty. I look for sales. But this was something that took time, thought, mental fortitude, and guts to spend money...this wasn't a board game, this was actual life...but I already knew that I guess.

I've seen gypsies. I'm not talking on TV, I'm talking real live gypsies. I actually blame them for not being able to enjoy a once in a lifetime experience. Turns out, on that day, the bottom of the Eiffel Tower is where all the gypsies hung out. My one chance to really see this marvel of a landmark, the often used symbol of romance and elegance...and at the bottom packs of gypsies. I'm sure they were very nice people, but I started to hear them. I was warned that they have a vague communication method of clicking. You sort of slightly hear it. You start to wonder what it is. By the time you actually hear it, they have already emptied your pocket and are using your money to buy themselves the French equivalent of a hot dog. And you? You're standing there broke. But once you have witnessed their prowess, it's not something you ever forget.

Cut to me...walking into the Sears department store...with four kids. I had already given the whole "fiscally responsible" speech to my unnaturally quiet offspring in the car. They appeared to listen, they nodded their heads, so I thought, okay...good enough. We walk into the store and within 7 seconds, it hit me. This was a scene I had seen before...I could recognize the look on the sales associate's face...she was thinking a gypsy with FOUR kids who were unusually excited about kitchen appliances. After retrieving Atticus from inside one of the refrigerators, I had decided that we failed to discuss going into a store and the art of being inconspicuous...lesson learned. I can't be sure, but I'm fairly certain I heard the a sigh of relief as we left the store.

I walk this teetering line a lot. I know kids just see things, and they want it. I know kids, while they completely understand spending their own money (usually on worthless crap), they have little understanding on how 'our' money is/should/needs to be spent. I over heard Abe telling Oscar "...yeah, a water feature is cool, but it's like $500 extra and they usually break...don't even get me started on a stainless steal front..." For a minute, I thought what? So okay, someone was hearing me, and on this rare occasion they were actually listening. It is still scary to make these very expensive decisions on my own. I'm so terrified that I'll make a mistake, because let's face it, it's hard to bounce major financial questions off of a 9 year old. Sometimes I let it seriously consume me, if this is all jacked up, what ever it may be that particular day, it's my fault.

But as I was walking around Best Buy, texting people about what appliance they had, it occurred to me...I'm probably not going to be sent to a Turkish prison for buying the wrong refrigerator. My kids won't need therapy or write their tell all book from prison entitled The Day My Mom Bought the Wrong Fridge. I have to face the facts. First of all, I hate to spend big money, I'm not your average female. Secondly, from time to time it's sucky to be an adult, and suckier still when you don't have another one to fall back on. You make the hard decisions and hope someone was watching you do the right thing...all the while knowing, that in less than 24 hours, you will have a refrigerator again, and hell no does it have stainless steal front!

...our house has changed

For some reason, I stumbled upon this blog that I wrote two years ago...I frantically tried to remember just reading the title what it was about, and then I frantically tried to find it in my book. I looked and looked, and then I remembered. I remembered that there were some blogs that I didn't include...at the time when I was first editing, I couldn't include...it was just too personal. I'm not sure why I found this more personal than other things I had written, but that was where I was at the time.

I regret not including it today after reading it. I feel like it pretty much encapsulates this whole journey we are on, my kids and I. Not a whole lot has changed, other than the notion that what ever happens today, the sun will indeed come out tomorrow. It is still hard to swim through certain memories and laugh at others. So, two years and a couple of days later, I want to share it again. If you've read it before, thank you. If you are reading it for the first time, thank you. Thank you.


June 15th, 2013~ ...our house has changed

Well, hi...I've never done this before, at least written to you...you know me, I talk a lot, and I talk to you- usually in some empty room...at times with my fists/eyes in the air. I'm either asking for a little help, wondering what to do next, or just wishing I could talk to you, just one last time to tie up some lose ends. For me, tomorrow isn't going to be hard because you are not here, it's going to be hard because some memories never go away...

Nine years ago on Father's Day, you weren't exactly a father, yet. I remember the look on your face when you told your friends at a Cardinals game that you were having a 'BOY!!'. They all cheered. I remember the look on YOUR face in the delivery room after every one of our children were born. With each child your face looked different, as you were looking in their eyes, scanning these little people. Clearly, telling each one of them some special message from your heart...and then looking at me as if to say, "WE DID THAT?!". I vividly remember looking at you for many hours, each taking turns quietly sobbing, when we labored a child we never got to bring home. All the while hoping/knowing that it was the hardest thing we were going to have to do, but it would make us stronger...closer.

I remember with every one of our children, there would come a point about 3 weeks in where I would loose my shit (you were the baby person). I couldn't get it right?  I couldn't understand what I was doing wrong? Or WAS THIS THING EVER GOING TO SLEEP?!? To which you would smile, take the 'thing' from me, and tell me to go to bed-as we were handing off you'd say, "...I hate to tell you this, but the same thing has happened with all of these kids, thank God I remember...". And I do...I do not know if I could have made it through with out you...you were the baby whisperer...

Sometimes I wonder if you are talking through Nora...of course she talks (and talks), but sometimes she says things, and I think, where the hell did that come from? Sort of secretly hoping it's you. Today, at the dinner table she said, "...have you noticed how our house has changed?" I tried to get her to elaborate, and she looked at me like, what part of that didn't you get? She also has been asking if I could teach her to be a lady...what do I do all day? Teach her to roll cigars? She misses you, even though she mentions it less and less. She has a laundry list of things I'm supposed to tell you if I see you at night...as if it were that easy...but now, it's sort of her nightly routine.

Atticus? You wouldn't believe it! He's EVERYWHERE all at once, can sprint through the house, and damn it, if he hasn't nearly figured out how to open the gate on the stairs. I'm contemplating just having him wear a helmet all day long to save on concussions. Today's discovery, the kid will ACTUALLY EAT A MEAL if you give him a fork. Really? ...like it's just that easy?

The boys are in Indiana, and today it really sank it that I miss them like crazy. I know they are getting well taken care of, but at times I feel guilty to enjoy the quiet that exists here at night. The WWE will resume in their room soon enough. Abe no longer needs a 'seeing eyed person' as he has decided that reading is pretty beneficial. Since the beginning of summer he's read 16 chapter books. Oscar 'keeps forgetting' about the reading challenge I gave them. But, some how as picked up stand up comedy in the last two weeks. He told me the other day that he was heading to my brother's house to visit, and that he'd get to meet my brother's "Lady Friend"...thankfully, he's helped Abe be less worried about summer camp, and I'm anxious to see if Oscar is taller than me when I see him next...weeds I tell you.

This whole thing- life, our kids, and the day to day isn't hard because I'm doing it alone...it's hard because you're not here to see what I see. I can handle the doing alone, I mean, it's not perfect, but we've made no trips to the ER, yet. It's the things that I see, the stories that I hear, the antics that happen...sometimes those things mean more if someone else can share them with you. It's the knowing that while I have my memories with you, there has been nearly a world of change that has happened  that you've missed...I know you are seeing it, but the sharing it is what we all need.

...this week I was paid in moments

...I've been on a dead run for about a week. All of it was exciting. Old friends caught up with and family visited. Fun times were had...except for white knuckle driving through every storm that passed through the Midwest...But never-the-less on the go for a long stretch.

While I was home, I was blessed to be able to see two girlfriends I haven't seen in a long time...together we sat, had a cocktail, and caught up on our lives. We talked and laughed and walked down memory lane, as if no time had passed. We reconnected started up where we left off, and it was not only good for the heart, but good for the soul. I realized while we were sitting there that these sort of friends are possibly the best ones you can have in life. While we are a little older, a little wiser, and understand more about life than we did when we were 20, we still get each other. I drove off in my car afterward smiling. Smiling because of how much fun I had. Smiling because of how much I missed them. Smiling because I just remembered how fun it was to have them in my life...for a moment I felt 20 years old again.

The ending of this whirlwind week was seeing two really fantastic people get married. It has been a couple of years since I've been to a wedding. You forget all of the things that go along with it...the family, random people wanting to drink free booze, the stresses of wanting to make sure everything is perfect. This wedding gave all of that, but the best part was it was beautiful. Not beautiful in an overdone, flashy sort of way. It was beautiful because it was simple, understated, and was all about the two people deciding to spend the rest of their lives together. It was beautiful because you knew that in these people's heads, if they were the only two people in the room, that would have been enough. It was beautiful because they didn't need anything more than each other...I was just lucky enough to witness it, lucky to be a part of their special moment.

By Sunday afternoon, I finally hit the wall, I was mentally exhausted, feeling like I was on a cold medicine buzz without the medicine. Finally, all I could do was just wait the clock out until bedtime...and the TV remote was actually in my hand. In this house that is no small victory. I turned it to the Hunger Games. I'll be honest, I've seen it, but I need story line support because I'm not sure I've ever gotten the chance to watch it all the way through. Oscar was in the room with me and asked if we could watch it all the way through. Mentally beat down, I tried to tell him that it was going to be pretty late before it was over, and the kid has seen this movie about 187 times as it's one of his favorites. There was about a 14 minute pause in the conversation with us, and then he says, "...the reason I want to watch it is because I want to watch it with you..." I suddenly woke up.

This kid watches a lot of movies, I mean A LOT. He is pretty versed at who the directors are and has read up on their methods. I think movies are his escape from anything that ails him and I can appreciate that and his desire to know more about them than just what you're shown. So, I was busy asking questions here and there because I tend to get lost in movies as I rarely get to see them in their entirety here. The next thing I know, he moves from the chair across the room and sits down next to me on the couch...unheard of. We are watching the movie, telling anyone who wants to reenact THUNDER DOME to leave the room, and I realize that we are having a rare moment. We are interacting in a way that isn't son/mother, it's friends. That hasn't happened in a while. I turn to him and say, "...you know, I'm very sorry that there isn't more of me to go around. I'm sorry that I'm outnumbered and I don't always get to give you the time you deserve..." He said, "...I know, it's okay..." I said, "no it's not, it sucks..." He said, "...yeah, but that's the way life is sometimes..."

For a moment I was sort of dumbfounded that he got that. For a moment I wondered if he knew what he was saying or just regurgitating something I've probably said to him. But in that moment I realized that sometimes you just have to catch these special moments when you can. Whether it be something you experience or something you witness, you can't recreate them. You can't make them happen even if you will them so to do. The beauty of these moments, are the glimmer of security you get from them. The fact that you can go back to them when you are feeling like you're mentally hitting the wall on your day or even your life...this week I was paid in moments...

...powerless

Well, I'm not sure where it came from...that's the interesting thing about grief. Even when you feel like you are doing fine, a day rolls around, for no real reason, and knocks you on your ass. About the time when you feel like you have everything in control (or at least as much as you can being out numbered), and the bottom falls out. The figurative doorbell rings, and emotions just come walking right in like you actually invited them. You can blame feminine hormones. You can blame dreary weather. You can blame a cocktail. But, the fact of the matter is when it comes, you can't make it go away until it's run it's course.

It started last week. Oscar mentioned at the breakfast table that he had a dream about Jason. We were all excited to know what happened. Turns out, nothing happened. He said he just saw his dad walking through the house. I could tell by his answer that he was a little underwhelmed. Like he had wished that it would have been more meaningful...longer...some sort of interaction that would have left him with a big grin. The often used phrase to people who are missing a loved one who is no longer here is, "...but they are with you...they are here watching you...they are loving you from a far..."And I'm sorry, but that is bologna shit.

My heart sort of broke that day for Oscar. They were given nothing. No good-bye. No closure. No chance to let their heart catch up with reality. Their last vision of Jason was on a stretcher out the window. Why didn't I let them see him on that stretcher? I would do just about anything for my kids to have just one more interaction with Jason. I would give anything for them to be able to say one more thing, give him a hug, just lay eyes on him...if for only 5 minutes. It is a pain that resonates so deeply inside of me that it actually physically hurts at times. It gnaws and tears at my heart, knowing that I am...powerless.

Atticus is now at that stage where he's verbal with no filter. He says things partly to get a reaction and partly because he doesn't know what he is saying. He likes to repeat the phrases that I might mutter under my breath, and does them with authority. He is very matter-of-fact about where his dad is. Driving down the road the other day he said, "...you know, my dad passed away...but I don't really know why or where he went..." I was sort of taken with how he phrased it. I mean he's only 3, and half the time he's talking about super heroes. He has started asking questions...the likes of which I remember Nora asking when she was his age. With each question asked, I know that it's one more I don't have real answers to. One more question that I have to try do deflect because I know his brain can't comprehend the real answer.

And then, last night as I was channel surfing, a PBS show came on, sort of Lawrence-Welk-like. The dancing started. The laughter got louder. The signature moves came out. It was hilarious, heart warming, rowdy and it made me emotional. It came in like a rhinoceros and I had to excuse myself to the bathroom. I cried, hard. I could hear the giggles and the squeals, but I couldn't stop myself. I had to let it out. The scene was like that of any Saturday night five years ago, but I was the only one noticing something was missing...and once again, I was powerless.

So, today is a new day. Today is the chance to start over. Today is the day to let yesterday's grief know that while we loved having them visit, we were running out of clean towels. Today is the day when you look at yesterday and hope you've learned something. Today will be filled with tantrums, freak-outs, spilled juice, dirty clothes and dishes. However tonight, we'll get the pleasure of watching Nora at t-ball practice...and that is just pure entertainment.

...grunt-like-look...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Mother's Day...

...I remember walking into a room just off of ours. It was empty, with exception of piles in this corner and that. A fresh coat of the most soothing green color on the walls. The only piece of furniture, a bright yellow chair sitting in the corner. I would wander into that room, sit in that big yellow chair and think. I would think about what still had to be done. I would think about what would go where. I would sit in that big yellow chair and think about the baby that would soon be living in this room. I would wonder what it would be like to be a mother...

I still remember how quiet it was sitting in that room...quiet is a foreign word around here. Of all the places in our old house, I think I miss that first baby room the most. I guess it was where I spent a lot of time, did most of my thinking, and a great deal of praying that I was actually doing things right...first time mother guilt. I could close my eyes right now and tell you how the sun fell into that room in the morning, or how in the spring the tree out front bloomed. All the times the Talls would be so tiny looking out their window in the winter waiting for the snow plows to go by. It seems like it was yesterday that I became a mother for the first time...

Mother's Day is upon us...I know because Atticus has been randomly saying to me, "...Happy-Birthday-Mother's-Day-Mom..." to me for the last week. Good to know he's caught on to bundling well wishes. My Mother's Day present (unknowingly) was given to me by my kids tonight. They gave me a trip down memory lane by watching...Lawrence Welk. It sounds odd, but when the Talls where little, we would watch it every Saturday night. Partly because it was funny to watch them, partly because it wore them out dancing and prancing all over the living room. They would dance and twirl, every once and a while Jason and I would get up to dance with them. We haven't watched it in years, actually I think tonight was Atticus' first time. They all performed some signature moves and one of the Talls finally accepted Nora's plea to be her dance partner. They were up for every song, twirling and dipping. Atticus was Oscar's slow dance partner, and I heard him ask while dancing, "...nice weather we're having?" That scant 45 minutes was probably one of the best Mother's Day gifts I have ever gotten.

 I was told the other night how fast time flies when you have kids. I've been told this many times, but when you are in the trenches of motherhood, it's hard to see the end of the road. As I was sitting there, I was mentally doing the math. Barring Atticus not be given an orange jump suit with the letters "DOC", I will be 57 years old by the time all of my children are out of my house. That's nearly 60!? That is, if I don't make this home so damned wonderful they even decide to leave...The notion made me shutter and simultaneously contemplate an intense chore chart.

 Little did I know what I was discussing in one part of the house, was invading Nora's dreams in another...but not the good kind. Being a mom is rough, all moms know that. Being a mom of children who have lost a parent is a different kind of rough. The fears that they have aren't like all the rest of the kids they know. Nora isn't the first one to express it, but her fear lies in what happens when I die. What will happen to her if I should die? Will she have to live all by herself? She doesn't want to be alone. As she is telling me this the next day, as it took her 12 hours to get the courage to talk about it, tears are streaming down her face. She actually looks like she is in pain even describing what she dreamt, how she felt, where her fear was. My heart broke. I tried to reassure her that she wouldn't be alone. I tried to tell her that if something happened to me, there would be someone here. I was careful with my words as I know all too well the phrase "take the place" is a line of crap...

This conversation was eye opening to say the least. I ditched the mental chore chart and started to think about what I get to do in the next 17 years. What I get to see raising these kids...knowing their potential...watching them grow into these cool people I see them becoming. I get to see them happy, get to console them when they are not, and get to hear them, as they have no internal volume. Silver Lining? I get to be their Mom, probably the best job I've ever had...

...indigestion-without-a-bathroom-in-sight

"...so, there's this 'puberty video' and I need you to sign a consent form so I can watch it...", said Oscar. I knew the time was coming. I knew I would have to choose my words correctly when I answered this statement. I knew that like everyday that passes, we were now going to be entering the rare and wonderful world of puberty...gulp.

Rewind to a couple of weeks ago. We were at Oscar's spring music program. I was noticing things... Admittedly, boys are easy to go unnoticed when it comes to puberty, and being that I have mostly boys, I hadn't noticed. But then, when the girls started stepping onto the risers to sing, it hit me like a ton of bricks. We were needing to be nearing a time for 'the video'. In between Atticus puking all over my lap, I pondered the differences that I saw. The girls were developed, and there was a VAST difference between the 5th grade and the 6th grade boys, a few of which looked like they had already started shaving...it was starting.

So, when I was handed the permission slip, I started to skim through it...I noticed that there were dates and times, and read the words practices...WHAT THE HELL WAS I READING? Thankfully, he unknowingly handed me an archery notice from his P.E. teacher first. I nearly fell over laughing. He immediately started discussing what he'd be watching, "Boys...how our bodies are changing...". I quickly tried to quell it, at least at the dinner table. In my best mother-code (with eyebrows and head tilts towards Nora) I told him that we all weren't watching the video. There WAS a reason why his grade was watching it, perhaps he should keep some information to himself. Oscar was, and as always, un-phased by what I had said. So, again, I gently mentioned that if he decided he needed to share his new found information, say with Abe, we would quickly be looking at the business end of a hissy fit. Another discussion will be forth coming...

The whole thing got me to thinking. I know I'm not delusional to believe that these boys are going to think I know anything about growing up. I know that even though I WENT THROUGH PUBERTY, I will still be a mom who grew up in the dark ages...you know the 1980s. I got to thinking about how hopefully with Nora, maybe things would be different? Maybe she would take my advice on the smallest of life lessons to ease her way into the same stage. It got me making a mental list, a guideline really of things as a girl...the one I possibly wish I had growing up.

#1...while the boy might be nice, yes you should judge him on his friends; if he hangs around morons, chances are he is one too.
#2...if you ever walk into a room, get into a car, or are generally alone with a boy, and Keith Sweat is playing- get out of there! NOW! That boy has plans, and it's not homework.
#3...if you go on a blind date, get into the boy's car, and he has platform shoes higher that any heel you own, fake sick and go home.
#4...if the boy listens to music that is disrespectful to women, chances are he is too.
#5...if a boy you are with gets cold and asks for YOUR coat, he's not a gentleman, he's a wimp and not worth your time.
#6...if the boy might not spend a lot of money, but takes the time to do something special for YOU from his heart, he is someone worth spending time with.
#7...watching a movie is code for "making out"...know what you are getting yourself into.
#8...anyone who tells you you're beautiful isn't a bad thing, as long as he is genuine...if you have to tell him he is, he is not confident enough to be around you.
#9...never let anyone tell you that being smart isn't beautiful.
#10...you are perfect the way you are, anyone who can't deal with that isn't worth dealing with.
#11...lying to your mom is wrong and she will know when you have done something wrong, at times before you even do it.
#12...loving someone means you don't have to spend every waking minute with them even though you might want to.
#13...what you have to say matters.
#14...one bad decision can effect the rest of your life.
#15...if you can't handle/aren't comfortable with it, it's not a scarlet letter, it's your conscious telling you to think.
#16...girl friends are few and far between, but you don't want those that stifle you.
#17...remember what is going on around you when you are with someone you like...one song years later can bring back memories as if you are still in the moment.
#18...treat yourself, but letting the other person treat you is okay too.
#19...being yourself will ALWAYS be better than trying to be someone else.
#20...personal hygiene is important, if he doesn't smell good now, chances are he never will.

I know that some of these aren't large revelations. Hopefully I might be able to pass along to more than Nora...but my expectations of any of my children wanting to know my opinion on such matters are low. Just tonight Oscar said he doubted the married Duggar kids ever "frenched" their spouses...I quickly changed the subject. I'm not going to sugar coat it, this whole topic gives me a feeling of indigestion-without-a-bathroom-in-sight. I'm not going to pretend I've read any books on the matter. I'm not going to pretend that I will know the right things to say when the time arises. Blind faith? Maybe. From the hip is how I plan to roll. Luckily for my ill fated kids, I have a new one...