Cabin chaos, part 3

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After 50 years, the cabin became run down, bat ridden, and somewhat dilapidated. The roof leaked. The floor sagged under cracked worn flooring. Using the outhouse became outmoded as a commode. I really didn’t want to go up there anymore.

It was at this point that Aunt Grace decided to finance a major remodeling project. My brother Mark was the perfect guy for the job. He was good with his hands and was a very hard worker. When Mark was in middle school, he drew up a design for a water bed. He constructed the bed out of wood and spent the next 25 years sleeping in it.

Being the middle brother of my younger 3 brothers, Mark was almost invisible. Matt and Luke demanded almost all of the attention. Mark received attention and approval by working hard. He is the hardest worker that I have ever known. By the end of his teen years, he had already wrecked his knees and back from hard physical labor. Last summer I think he felt threatened when I told everyone that I was running a marathon. He told me that he bet he could run faster than me. He holds the title of family brawn.

Mark started to remodel the cabin in a process that took about 6 years. He managed the project and did a majority of the work despite living several hours away. He gutted out the cabin then put on new siding, new windows, redid the fireplace, and added an indoor bathroom. Once the old flooring was removed, we discovered hardwood floors underneath. Mark restored the hardwood flooring, put on a new roof, and put up dry wall. He also worked on the trim with precision and accuracy.

The most difficult thing he had to do was face his fears to get the job done. He braved claustrophobia, spiders, and rodents to squeeze in through a small opening to a crawl space. He needed to go underneath the cabin in a dark, musty, moldy dirt hole to reinforce the foundation. Plus, it was dangerous. If something went wrong, it could have collapsed and crushed him.

Everyone worked together as a team to complete the project, but almost all of the credit goes to Mark.

When Mark finished the remodeling project the cabin was magnificent.

 

Cabin chaos, part 2

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The calm and serenity of the lake seemed to mock my agitation.

What an absolutely gorgeous morning on the lake. Paul was enjoying one of his favorite pastimes, fishing.

 Meanwhile, back at the cabin there was an entirely different story altogether. I pulled the car up to the front of the cabin, opened the trunk, and started madly throwing all of our stuff inside.

On that day, Paul was a lot further out on the lake then he was on the day that I took this picture. He could barely see me as I wildly waved my arms in the air. He thought it was unusual that I parked the car close to the cabin. He saw me wave, but kept on fishing oblivious to what was happening across the lake. It was a time before cell phones were used, back before my youngest child was even born.

We arrived at the cabin in the early evening. We started a fire in the fireplace. As the evening wore on, we put our two worn out children to bed. The fire started to die out as we settled into our bedroom nearby. The fire cast dancing demons on the wall. Then it happened. We saw in the shadows a flutter of wings. We suddenly found ourselves in the setting of a cheap horror movie. What was that? A bat??!? Paul turned on all of the lights and opened the doors trying to get the bat outside. He thought that he was successful in his endeavor and we fell into a restless slumber.

Bats were not an uncommon sight at the cabin, especially after our garage infestation. Sometimes while we were spring cleaning we would spot a bat behind an old shirt. We had bats in the cabin several times when I was a kid. I also mistook their interest in insects as an interest in me or my long hair. 

The next morning, Paul woke up early to go fishing. He must have spooked a bat because after he left there was a bat in our room. It circled around the room for what seemed like 20 minutes. The minute I saw it, I screamed and hid under the blankets. My breathing quickened as my fear intensified. Then I heard a scratching on the screen of our window that was opened a crack. After I thought I was safe, I got up and started packing up all of our things. The kids never woke up during the whole incident.

Later we realized that the fireplace was the bat entrance and exit. The bats inside were not able to escape for the evening if we had a fire. 

I finally was able to get Paul’s attention. He came back and we got the kids in the car to leave when the rest of my family came up to the cabin. I told them that we were leaving and not coming back until the bats were gone. 
 

My 1st transition from biking to running

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It was a warm spring like day. You know the kind. It was mostly cloudy with temps in the 40’s with a light breeze. The warmest day predicted for this week. Perfect day to try out my new bike and learn a few lessons.

The first thing that I did was find an old helmet. Then I dressed like I was going to go for a run. That was mistake number one! I put on a hat underneath my helmet. I sure looked like a clown. I didn’t notice that any neighbors took off of work for the occasion. So, who cares?

I decided to go for a 6 mile bike ride to break in my bike. Everything went great, except that I was absolutely freezing. I had forgotten how much of a wind biking creates. I felt like I was running against a 25 mph wind on a cool day. The faster I went, the colder I got. My hands became red and swollen. Was that a little frost bite coming on? Even though I budgeted an hour and a half lunch break, I was off on that. I had to stop indoors for a few minutes to warm up. My ears were cold and my fingers were tingling.

After the 6 mile bike ride, I decided to transition over to a 5 mile run. Running was rather interesting. After getting off of the bike, I felt like I couldn’t walk straight. Almost like I spent the day sailing. My equilibrium felt slightly off. Watch out, dizzy blonde runner! I felt like I had a couple shots of whiskey after roller skating for a couple of hours. It took about a mile to retrain my body to run like normal. I had to tell myself several times that I know what I am doing since I have been running for years. I was able to complete my run like normal, but it was a slow start.

I probably won’t be doing too much biking in the next couple of weeks. My main focus right now is getting ready to run a marathon in May.

***Note to self***So far on my first transition I learned a few very important lessons. First, dress a lot warmer than I would if I was running. Second, it make take longer then an hour and a half especially if I do not dress right. Third, I have to retrain myself mentally to run.

 

 

 

Cabin chaos, part 1

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Back in 1950, my great-grandparents bought a double lot on a quiet lake. The lake has been built up quite a bit since then and is not as quiet as it once was. But it is still beautiful. They built a cabin on the lake. When I was growing up, the only running water in the cabin was two sinks in the kitchen. We had an outhouse with a garage located between the cabin and the outhouse. There was also a boat house, a fish cleaning shack, and a screened in cook house with a long redwood table.

My family originally built a concrete retaining wall with stairs going down to the water in the center. It has since crumbled and shifted over time. The boat house was in bad shape and was torn down when I was a kid. The garage was the next building to go. The roof caved in and it housed bats. Every time that I had to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, the bats would swoop down at me. I turned on the lights outside in an attempt to keep them away. When I had the lights on, the guys across the road would see me running to the outhouse and whistle at me. It probably didn’t help that I was screaming and flailing about while in little summer nightgowns. If I could make it past the bats and creepy guys, my next fear was always the wasps. How did people survive having to use an outhouse all the time??

Eventually the garage was torn down as well. There was a lot of junk inside. There also was an antique car from the early 1900’s that was in rough shape. A lot of times my family was too cheap to buy new stuff for the cabin, so they took up mismatching plates, silverware, etc..

This summer I am planning on swimming across the lake to prepare for the tri. I will probably not be biking or running up north though because at this time we do not have an easy way to bathe. I am afraid that stinking would be frowned upon and my family would no longer support my crazy fitness habits.

This is going to be a very short series telling some of the funniest stories.

Competing events

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Today all of my kids competed. I felt just as nervous as if I was competing.

Not only were all three of my kids competing in solo and ensemble, but my youngest daughter Arabella had an additional altogether different competition at a different school. This week I attended the mandatory parent meeting for Arabella’s competition. The leader told the group that anyone with a failing grade would not be able to compete. It was at this point that I leaned over to my daughter’s coach (one of my best friends) and said good thing they weren’t talking about my child. They were talking about my daughter! WTH??  I raced home to find out that she was failing choir (really, choir???!?) because she didn’t turn in an assignment when she was out of school getting her braces on. So I never did sign up that night to help out.

A couple days later I received a nasty call because I never signed up to volunteer at the event. The leader wanted me to help with concessions between 10 and 11. I said no. Between my kids, they were signed up for 11 S&E events. I was not even going to be able to be there for Arabella’s competition because my other two kids were competing at similar times. Paul was going to go. I was not going to drop seeing my kids events because someone was stupid enough to double schedule this event with S&E. She told me that if I didn’t help out that they were not going to do this in the future. I reiterated that I was not going to help from 10 to 11, mentioned all the times I did my fair share, and offered to help clean up after the award ceremony.

Then later this week right before S&E, Arabella told me that she broke her instrument. Ok, sure. What next? It was already crazy enough having to be at two different places at the same time!

Last night I set my alarm for 5:40 AM to get up in time for the show. I have never been so thankful for waking up early on a Saturday morning before. Especially since I accidently set the alarm for 5:40 PM. That could have been disasterous!

Arabella performed her two pieces first so she could leave for her other competition. Her band duet was horrible. Apparently her friend was playing french horn out of a trumpet book and the instruments were in 2 different keys. So it sounded like they were playing two different clashing songs. They took a 2nd on their class C. She also took a 2nd on her choir piece. Not too bad for as bad as the band piece sounded. Alex took a 2nd on his band piece as well.

As usual, Angelique stole the show. All 8 of her choir pieces made it to state. I can usually tell it’s good if the worst comment the judges make is on where to take breaths. She better be good since she wants to go into vocal performance as a career! Last year all of her pieces made it to state. She took all firsts at state and received an exemplary award. One of the best things a judge said was that her happy attitude was contagious.

Then I made it back to Arabella’s competition just in time for the award ceremony. Her team did not make it to state this year. Oh well, they had fun anyway. Then I stayed after to clean up. I came home tonight pretty exhausted. Almost like I ran a marathon. Lol.   

All in all, the day ended on a good note.

Trying to tri

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I bought a road bike today. There is no turning back now. I have to tri.

A few weeks ago, I got together with some running/tri friends. Compared to them, I am very inexperienced as a racer. I told them of my grandiose plan of running 20 miles every weekend. They asked if I was crazy. Yes, of course. Do you want to get hurt? No, I don’t! I decided to listen to their advice and scale back a little. Between the trio of triers, they have at least 50 marathons under their belt, multiple half irons, and an iron. So their advice was very credible. 

Guess I will have more time to write, right?

After finishing my first marathon in about six hours, I felt like a failure. I went into it with too high of expectations. I thought that I might qualify for the Boston. I got the crazy idea that if I train harder for this marathon, I will do better.  My friend said that she thought I had it in me to finish in under 4 hours if I train right. I think that might be a little too optimistic. However, with the exception of the marathon, I have been consistently finishing within the top 7 to 10% in my age category. I did my first half in 2:05 in less than ideal conditions. So maybe.

It didn’t help hurting my ankle 3 weeks before the marathon. 

It took me about two months to recover from the knee pain that happened during my first marathon. Maybe I was trying to overcompensate for an ankle that wasn’t totally healed. To be honest with you, I am a little nervous about running another marathon. Running has been going absolutely great, until this week. I have been feeling so stiff and my joints have been aching. I feel exhausted and seem to lack motivation. I have been keeping to my newly revised running schedule though. It has been a mild winter, so I was able to get outside and run a total of 24 miles this week. That’s good because my treadmill is starting to groan just as much as I am. I find running anything over 16 miles at one time to be excessively grueling. 

I guess I will have to run with it and see how my second marathon goes. 

This season I am signing up for a 5k, 10k, half, and full marathons. I am also signing up for my first tri. I am not sure how long I can keep going at this pace. I want to diversify a little so that I am able to keep exercising for the long run. The marathon will be my first race this season. Last year I spent the whole summer training. This summer I want to be like everyone else when they are not working. I want to sit on the beach, sip craft beer by the camp fire, and be out on the water. 

Oh wait, I just bought a bike. Now what did I get myself into??

Making a pact

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This past weekend something happened that made me rather upset.

Last minute, Paul and I had our friends Cindy and Jack over. Jack wanted to make plans with Paul to go on a fly fishing trip over Easter break. The place that they want to fish is 5 hours away, very close to Cindy’s parents. Cindy and Jack were having a hard time finding a babysitter for their 5 year old son and we couldn’t help. That seemed like a no brainer fix to me. I suggested that they drop their son off with Cindy’s parents. Cindy said that her parents wouldn’t do that for them. They were still complaining about the time that they had to watch him for 2 hours. Really? That made me angry.

Then I told Cindy that my aunt wanted my daughter to sing in her only child’s wedding. She told me that my younger two children weren’t going to be invited to the wedding. It wouldn’t be that big of a deal except that the wedding is a couple of hours away. Being a part of the wedding would require a hotel room a couple of nights for the rehearsal and wedding. Another relative said that I should leave my other kids with some friends or my in-laws. My in-laws? They didn’t help out with the kids much before my mother-in-law was diagnosed with terminal cancer. How can people ask a favor and be so insensitive?? Paul offered to stay home with the youngest kids so I could take Angel to sing in the wedding. But it makes me angry!

Then it took me back to a time in my life when I needed help but found myself alone. On Angel’s 4th birthday, Matt attacked her. It took my brother and husband to pull him off of her. This event caused a chain reaction of hurt that lasted years after the actual attack took place. I decided that I didn’t want my children victimized by my brother like I was. Things were different, when my brother hurt me he was a child. When he hurt Angel, he was a grown man and she was just a little girl. For years there was a time where there was very minimal contact between Matt and my children. Because of this, my mom lost her number one caregiver, me. We also lost our number one helper, my mom.

Less than a year after Matt attacked Angel, I gave birth to my third child. I scheduled the C-section for a Friday because I didn’t have anyone to help watch the kids during the week while Paul worked. My mom stayed over the night before, then dropped the kids off at the hospital the morning that I had my third child because Matt had a doctor’s appointment. Paul and I never had the celebratory meal together. After I got home from the hospital, my mother-in-law helped for one day then I was on my own less than a week after having major surgery with my three little kids.

In response to everything that happened, I decided to solve my problems by starting up a babysitting co-op. It worked great. We exchanged points for child care instead of money. We had monthly play groups. I developed close friends that for some reason or other found it hard to get the support that they needed as a parent.

I wish that there was a flow chart with parenting solutions sometimes. If your child does this, you do that. Every parenting class that I have ever attended was always filled with controversy. To spank or not to spank? Work or stay at home? Breast or bottle? Private, public, or home school? One child wins or everybody wins? Vaccinate or not to vaccinate? Yada, yada, yada… I am sure it wouldn’t take too long to find a blog where someone is fighting over these issues. Nobody seems to have the answers. 
Having your first child is such a major shock. I find it funny when women seem worried about childbirth. I was the same way. Seriously, you should be more worried about the next 18 years! Suddenly you are thrown into parenting without any idea what you are doing. Having a second child is also a shock. Yes, I was one of those people that thought it wouldn’t change my life at all. I also thought that my kids wouldn’t fight. That expectation got shattered pretty fast. I also thought that if I did the best job that I could possibly do that my kids wouldn’t rebel or make the wrong choices. Boy am I still learning! Having a third child was no adjustment at all. Wait, did I have a third child? I think so, except I did not document the first time she started to crawl, the first word she said, or the first time she spit up like I did with my first child.

Grandparents, why does our culture sometimes treat you like you are outdated and worthless? What a lie! You are a wealth of knowledge. You have the experience that some of us are learning through trial and error at the expense of our children. For all of the grandparents out there who are helping out their children some way or another, thank you. God bless you for making this world a better place. You are needed. You are appreciated. Parents, if you have parents that are wonderful grandparents, show them your gratitude. I know many parents that would do almost anything to have a little guidance.

This past weekend Paul suggested that we (Paul, Cindy, Jack, and I) make a pact to be good grandparents. The four of us promised that we would be there for our children when they have children of their own. We promised to be supportive, offer advice if asked, and to take our grandchildren for a few days to give their parents a break. We will take the wrongs and make them right.

This is our pact.

Autism’s sibling, journal 2, part 4

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I was my mother’s best friend. Before I was a teenager, I knew about every problem in the house. I helped solve them. I heard about financial concerns, marital problems, parenting issues, and autism galore. My advice was sought. I fixed things. After my dad checked out emotionally, it was like I became the other parent. I was never allowed to be the child. My mom had a hard time making and keeping friends because Matt’s violent behavior scared them away. He scared away many of my friends too, so I really couldn’t blame her.

So I deliberately planned that when I became a parent, I would allow my children to be children. They were never going to hear about my adult problems or issues. In fact, I haven’t told my children much about my childhood at all. I only told my oldest daughter about this blog since she is almost an adult and is old enough to know. Maybe someday when I am ready and they are old enough, my other children will be told.

My mom had a really hard time without the support of my dad and a few close friends. She often times would cry while listening to Christian music as she was driving. Sometimes she would do this while I had friends in the car. It embarrassed me to the point that I really disliked Christian music or relaxing piano music that would cause an eruption of tears from my mother.

Once my mother took my brothers and I to a Christian concert when we were little. She cried almost the whole time. We were bored and screwed around to the point that she had to leave the concert early. She was so angry and upset with us that she cried most of the way home. I wish she had some friends that she could have enjoyed the night away with.

Now I like some music that I wouldn’t want my kids to listen too. Music that is angry, dark, or downright nasty. Music that modern day teens might like and not an old lady like me. Sometimes my kids will test me. Bet you don’t know that song. Yes, it is Eminem singing ‘Till I Collapse (good running song by the way). Wow, I am such a cool mom. With the bass cranking out of my window, you would think that my daughter would be happy with me dropping her off right outside of the middle school. But, alas, I am an embarrassment. Sometimes I even embarrass myself.

Autism’s sibling, journal 2, part 3

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My mom said that Matt was a smart baby. He was speaking and knew the alphabet. Until he turned 2, that is. Then he quit talking altogether. Instead he screamed. He slept fitfully and had nightmares. For many early childhood years, Matt was nonverbal. Then something strange happened, he started talking.

Previous to the home bound years, my brothers and I attended the same grade school. I remember Matt being in the special ed room that was shared with the library. He spent a lot of time in the naughty box between the two rooms. He kicked and screamed in this box while the kids laughed when we went in for library. He also went out with us at recess. Some of the older girls mocked his bizarre movements and laughed at him. It made me very angry, but they were older and there was nothing I could do about it.

One day Matt told my mom that he didn’t like school. He said that the teacher was mean. He told us that she put him face down on the floor and sat on top of him. He said it was hard to breathe. The teacher also put him under her desk, then sat down squishing and trapping him inside. My mom asked me if this could possibly be true. By the time he could tell us what had happened, the teacher had already quit. The turnover was high and I am sure my brother didn’t help with that.

Matt was very hard to handle. He was so violent in the school setting that he had to be homeschooled for several years right around the time of puberty. We stayed at home 3 years, then Matt went back to school with me. My mom sent my youngest two brothers to two different schools. Some of the teachers at school gave my family a hard time for my autistic brother. They looked down upon us. Some of the kids weren’t much better. Like we wanted this? Or caused this?

When I came back to school my junior year, I was the first person in the school district to return to high school after homeschooling. They did not know what to do with me. They would not accept my transcripts from the accredited correspondence school. Some kids teased me by asking if I took off from school to have a baby.

After awhile Luke ended up going to high school with Matt. They graduated together. Mark graduated from a different school entirely. Matt took the short bus to school everyday. There was always a boy that would terrorize Matt on the bus. Sometimes he would get off of the bus with Matt and threaten to kill him. Mom was a little worried last summer that he would make good on his threat once he made parole for his violent criminal offenses.

After I graduated from high school, I came back to be Matt’s teacher’s aide. My best friend Shelly was his aide at school until she pressed criminal charges against Matt for assault when he pulled her hair. Matt was escorted out of the school in handcuffs. That was the end of Shelly’s employment and our friendship. The charges against Matt were dropped after his competency eval.

Then I was employed as Matt’s teacher’s aide for a short period of time. In the classroom, Matt had his own separate cubicle. Every time that I would try to get him to read or write he would grind his teeth and hit his head. Or sometimes he would hit me. He never did learn to read, write, or do basic math.

 

Autism’s sibling, journal 2, part 2

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“Did he touch you in a way that made you uncomfortable?”, asked my mom and her friend. “No” I kept replying. Although I do vaguely remember some lingering hugs with a little squeeze to the back side.

Something is wrong with Ann. She is acting weird. She loves Tim more than her parents. She bugs people. She is pretending a lot. She keeps hitting her dolls.

My mom got really close to Ann’s mom. Ann was a precocious 9 year old girl that was homeschooled. They didn’t have a TV in their house. They always wore drab clothes. The women and girls wore skirts or dresses. The women didn’t cut their hair. The girls wore their hair in braids and the women wore their hair up in buns. They were not Amish or Mennonite, their religious sect had an unusual name. Whenever I tried to look them up online, I always ended up on porn sites. I am sure that they do not embrace technology today any more than they did before.

Ann’s parents were really wonderful people. Her dad was very involved and excellent with the homeschooling kids. My mom started getting involved in their church. It really wasn’t like any church that I have ever known. It was a very closed group. You could only go if someone invited you. They would meet in back rooms of the mall that I never knew existed. They met in various towns in various locations. I remember it being a lot of preaching, several hours of sitting in a chair listening. They didn’t have pastors, instead they had brothers that travelled around in groups of two.

We started doing a lot of things with Ann’s family. Two of the “pastors” lived with Ann and her family for a couple months. There was a 28 year old man named Tim and an elderly man named Adolf. We went to their church. We hung out at their house. We also went other places like parks where we went hiking.

To be a part of this group, it was encouraged to take in these “pastors”. My mom had Tim and Adolf spent a few nights at our house. They slept in my bed. It really was a fun time. We didn’t have overnight visitors often. We were starting to spend a lot of time together. They took an interest in my life. Come to think of it, Tim and Adolf were the only adult overnight visitors that I ever remember having at our house when I was a child. Matt scared most people away.

Adolf liked to play the saw. He wanted someone to get him an old rag that he could put on his lap in order to play. My brothers came out with an old pair of my dad’s underwear. Ha ha. What goofs! Then he took the bow from my mom’s violin and played the saw. It made a rather eerie yet beautiful sound. Ann really liked Tim and always sat on his lap or was hanging on him. 

Once when we had homeschooling group at Ann’s house, she took all of the kids into her bedroom. She showed us a drawer that we should never go into. Then she would pop out of the room and come back in to find the boys looking in that drawer. Then she would cry, “Mom, the boys are in my underwear drawer.” She always got everyone in trouble. After awhile her behavior became a little less innocent. She started kissing and touching another 9 year old boy inappropriately.

Ann’s mom had a nervous breakdown. Tim likes Ann too much, but he had to leave.

Tim moved to Missouri to be part of another “church”. He still called me and wrote me letters for awhile. After he left, my mom was not interested in being a part of their church anymore.