childhood

Journal 5, part 3

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It has been a rough week of posts here, hasn’t it?? Here is the funny post that I promised…It is akin to my parents stories of walking uphill to school both ways.

10/10/1990

I am feeling tired today. Last night I watched a movie at my friend’s house. Her mom rented a VCR and we had to take it back to the rental place by 10 PM. We left her house at ten to ten. On the way there, the car broke down. We knocked on a couple doors, but no one answered. We walked back to her house which took almost an hour. By the time I got home, it was 11 PM. That sure didn’t help my cold any..

Young folks, times were hard growing up. Watching a movie wasn’t as easy as perusing Netflix for the perfect show. From this journal entry, I am going to assume that the VCR rental was for my friend’s birthday which was a few days before the journal entry date. We watched Gone with the Wind and Adventures in Babysitting (great old movie BTW). I had no recollection of this event before reading about it…the previous day’s journal entry mentioned the movies that we were going to watch. I vaguely remember walking back to her house on quiet country roads late at night.

You were pretty much screwed if your car broke down in the middle of nowhere at night if no one answered the door. Forget Uber. Of course, sometimes you were screwed if someone answered the door. As a teenage girl, it was creepy going into a stranger’s house to use their rotary phone. It was also creepy allowing strangers into the house to use the phone. I think it is something the kids of today are told not to do…allow strangers in your house or go into a strangers house.. Of course, kids of today don’t need to worry about taking rented VCR’s back or leaving the house without someone having a cell phone.

Even going to the movies was complicated. We had to watch the newspaper for the new listings. Or sometimes we would call on a Friday night to listen to a long automated message stating the new showings. Sometimes the phone was busy.

Remember having to rewind the VHS tape after viewing? That took almost as long as the movie. The rental tapes would be plastered with stickers that said ‘Be kind, rewind’ and other obnoxious things. Then upon returning the movie to the store, the clerk would always pop open the tape case while glaring at you with an eyebrow raised prejudging if you were an evil offender that didn’t rewind. If you were a few minutes late (probably due to rewinding) with the rental drop off, you would be fined a couple bucks.

I can almost imagine the fines my friend received for returning the VCR the next day. Maybe the cops were called. Uh huh, car trouble you say…I bet your dog ate your homework too..

I never had to worry about renting a VCR at our house. We always had at least 10 VCR’s in our house at all times. Unfortunately, none of them worked or they ate tapes. My dad repaired them as a living and was always doing favors for neighbors on the side. People would literally stop by with their junk…broken VCR’s, stereos, TV’s…Discombobulated machines laid on our table and were strewn all over our house for months. My dad was a procrastinator. By the time he fixed the broken machines, the people forgot about them or were on their third one. But he charged them next to nothing.

I wonder how much time we wasted on video tapes?? Almost as much time as we spent waiting by the phone…

How did we ever survive???

 

 

Journal 5, part 2

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5/2/1991

I’m only going to eat one meal a day or else I will be sick. When I was younger this worked all of the time until I felt better..

It is true that sometimes the needs of the ‘normal’ kids get swept under the rug when there is a special needs child in the house.

I know now that I have been a lifelong sufferer of GERD. I didn’t know this as a child. All I knew was that I had stomachaches all of the time. When it was really bad sometimes eating made me feel sick. I felt like I had a fire in my chest. Eventually the acid crept into my throat, gave me frequent canker sores in my mouth, and wore down the enamel on my teeth as a child. My parents threatened to take me to the doctor if I didn’t eat, but they never did.

My brother Matt also has GERD which was made worse by his gagging from Tourette’s. He frequently threw up his breakfasts. There was a time that the valve completely closed between his stomach and intestines. He couldn’t keep down any food and had to have the valve surgically opened again. In the meantime, he dipped below 90 lbs and he almost died.

Whose needs were more important??

Not only did Matt suffer from GERD, he also has autism. He engaged in a lot of self-stimulating repetitive behaviors such as rocking and flapping his hands together. At one time he had to wear a helmet on his head because when he became agitated he would hit his head with his fist. He was hypersensitive to touch. He would scream when he had to have his teeth brushed. He had to be sedated to go to the dentist for cleanings. He would only tolerate having 1/4 of his teeth cleaned at a time and eventually his teeth rotted. He has difficulty communicating and understanding emotions.

He suffers from Tourette’s. He would gag when eating and constantly make sticky saliva sounds with his mouth. His body would twitch and he repeatedly blinked his eyes.

He suffers from schizophrenia. He hears voices that tell him to hurt little girls. Sometimes the voices terrified him. He had nightmares. He would talk to the voices and laugh at the evil things they would tell him to do.

He is intellectually impaired. He cannot read, write, or do simple math.

He has issues with anxiety.

Matt made anything that my brothers and I struggled with minor in comparison.

There was a 3 year period when Matt was not allowed to go to school because of his violence. After that time period, he had very limited exposure to the outside world up until he was placed on an anti-psychotic medicine that eliminated the voices and the violence towards self and others.

My mother did not want my brother institutionalized in a place for the violently mentally ill so she pulled him out of most situations where he could hurt others. That did not stop him from being violent towards me at home. He grabbed a knife and threatened to cut my eyes out. He punched, scratched, kicked, bit, and pulled my hair on a regular basis. Who protected me?? Who reported his violence against me? No one.

I want to say that I handled it like a trooper, but I did not.

I withdrew into myself. I became very depressed. Although childhood goes by fast, it seems to take forever when you are being abused. I wanted out. I cried myself to sleep at night. I woke up crying in the morning after being awoken by nightmares.

I held my body tight like I was always bracing for impact. I cowered like a dog that was beat too much. My shoulders were held tightly up to my ears. I suffered from insomnia. I fell asleep easily but was typically awake from 2 to 4 AM. In the middle of the night, I suffered from muscle pains. I had to wrap pillows and blankets around my legs. I think my muscles were finally trying to relax in the middle of the night and it hurt.

I suffered from anxiety and worry. I was angry. I developed structure, rituals, and routines to feel like I had some control over my environment. For awhile, I was a compulsive hand washer. I washed my hands so often that they cracked and bled.

With everything going on at home, I couldn’t concentrate at school. My grades were horrible. I was put on a high dose of ADD medicine. It helped me focus, but made my skin crawl. I scratched my skin until it bled, especially on my scalp. I scratched until I pulled out scabs with big clumps of hair.

I was exhausted most of the time.

I was a mess.

That was a long time ago.

I survived.

I am strong now.

I am healing.

I feel ready to fight my demons.

 

Journal 5, part 1

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12-10-1990

Tonight is my choir concert. For awhile my mom wasn’t going to go because Matt was reacting. But she is going to go.

Events were always difficult for my family. My mom always wanted Matt to be included in all of the family activities. We never really wanted him to attend our special days. We were afraid that if he hurt someone that would mar the day forever in our memory. Plus we wanted some time when we could be the focus.

How would we feel if a special day was ruined by Matt attacking someone? It would make for an unforgettable choir concert, graduation, or wedding day.

My parents typically took turns attending events if Matt was unable to go. My dad would often times stay home with Matt because he hated social events.

But if Matt was ‘reacting’ bad enough, my mom would stay behind. She didn’t trust anyone else to take care of Matt. If Matt hurt someone, he could sometimes be hurt in the process of restraining him.

For example, if Matt was at the roller rink and attacked a small girl…what do you think her father would do? My mother said that no one could love Matt like she did.

Usually there were early warning signs of reacting that we became hyper vigilant for.. His ears would turn red, his fists and teeth would clench, and his pupils would constrict giving him wild eyes. Sometimes these reactions would last for a short time and sometimes for several days. Sometimes it would happen unexpectedly and sometimes we just knew..

The longest it usually lasted was 2 days until it slowly faded away. For 2 days, Matt would scream and be agitated in general. He would often hurt himself or those around him. He would keep our younger brothers, that he shared a room with, awake at night by rocking his body side to side in his bed violently. During the day, he would run in place flapping his hands together sometimes violently enough to make his chin bleed after his hands rubbed against it repetitively.

He had to be watched constantly because sometimes he would run away. Or he would do deviant things like overflow the sinks. Most of the time he muttered to himself. He would laugh after hurting someone or doing something wrong.

After the reaction was over, Matt would sleep all day and all night.

My mom went to great lengths to try to explain Matt’s strange behavior by saying that he was reacting, or allergic to things.

Matt attacked the stranger in the roller rink because the music was too loud.

Matt attacked the girl because she was wearing perfume. The perfume triggered it. We were no longer allowed to wear or have anything with a fragrance in it. No hair spray, no nail polish, unscented soaps…we even had to dip our toothbrushes in peroxide and baking soda to brush them. I found this to be very restrictive when most girls my age used a bottle of hairspray a week.

Sometimes it was auto exhaust. My mom no longer allowed the cars to be parked in the garage. They had to be parked at the bottom of the driveway. If the wind was blowing in a certain direction, we had to shut all of the windows. My mom would panic if we had to follow another vehicle closely on the road, the exhaust could seep in and set Matt off.

Maybe it was gluten, dairy, and artificial colors. My mom started buying Matt organic food. She went to great lengths to make separate meals for Matt that no one was allowed to eat.

Maybe it was the wood stove. That furnace was removed.

Maybe it was the formaldehyde in the curtains. They were removed and old blankets were put up.

I could probably list at least 50 or more things that at one time my mom thought were triggers. We had to painstakingly follow rituals to try to stop the triggers from eliciting a response in Matt, but it never worked.

My mom took Matt to almost every doctor in the state and to several doctors in other states. She had faith that he could be healed from this affliction. As a child, I believed that he could be healed too. We hung on to every hope that he would be completely healed.

My mom took Matt to physicians, homeopathic healers, allergists, and even a lady that read auras. But nothing worked.

I fear that what I am telling you makes my mother sound like she was completely crazy. But I want to assure you that my mother was the sanest person in the house. In her natural state she is an easy going…go with the flow kind of person…She is very compassionate, sensitive, and loving…But with Matt, my mother was fierce and determined to do anything she needed to do to protect him…to feel like she had an iota of control over something that no one had any control over… and to seek answers while holding on to this irrational dream that some day she would wake up and he would be normal.

Quieting the voices again

/ Outrunning my demons / 7 Comments

Last week I shared some really personal stuff about my childhood. What I haven’t told you was that every time I read, write, or think about my past I experience the negative emotions that go along with it. Maybe it is a part of the whole healing process, I don’t know.

I was feeling angry at my mom. This is a real struggle for me because a) she is getting up in age and probably doesn’t have a lot of time left, b) I feel like she was the best parent she could be, and c) she probably was as much of a victim in this whole mess as I was. It is not fair to be angry with her now about things that happened a long time ago.

I should be angry with my dad. He was a) never there for me, b) emotionally abusive, and c) a crappy parent. But I am not angry with my dad.

To add fuel to the fire, the previous weekend when I spoke to my mom she said that the family was going for one last impromptu trip up north. My whole family was going up to celebrate my niece’s birthday and I wasn’t told about it until the day of.

My mom cared about me, but she always cared about Matt more. What I am angry about is that Matt hurt me all of the time and she never did anything. She never told him that his behavior was wrong. She comforted him after he hurt me. She told me that I was in the wrong for feeling angry and wanting to retaliate. Would it have changed anything to tell him what he did was wrong? Probably not, but it would’ve made me feel better.

Did she say she was sorry when Matt attacked my friends? I lost all of my childhood friends because Matt hurt them. I was put in a position where I had to choose between my family and my friends.

When Matt was too violent to go to school, my mom pulled all of us out of school. I was Matt’s caregiver up until my second child was born. I went to college close to home. As a teenager, instead of screwing around with my friends, I was in charge of showering my brother.

When I needed my mom the most, I felt like she wasn’t there…If I dwell on it, my anger boils. I felt rather despondent all weekend. My husband thought I was angry with him because I didn’t feel like talking.

I decided to call my mom over the weekend. I asked her how the birthday party went. She told me that she dropped off the cake and gifts and went back home. She spent half of the car ride home crying. Apparently my brother Luke was not ready to have Matt around his children but that was not communicated. Luke said some harsh words to my mom which was upsetting to his daughter and everyone around.

A couple of months back, Matt was taken off of his anti-psychotic meds. He started hallucinating again and became obsessed with my niece. He talked about killing her. He is back on his medication and hasn’t hallucinated in over a month. But Luke is not ready.

I understand because Matt attacked my daughter Angel at her birthday party. He was obsessed about hurting her too. I’m sure that my brother was thinking that he didn’t want his daughter to get hurt at her birthday party either.

Matt is an adult and our daughters are little girls or were at one time. After Matt hurt Angel I had to cut ties with my family for awhile. At the time, Matt was still living at home with my parents. Matt has always been fixated on hurting girls. Never boys.

My mom pressured me to have Matt get together with the family after that happened. Not long after the incident, I became pregnant with my second daughter. I found out the sex of my baby but never told anyone because it was too painful to tell my family that we wouldn’t be together for a long time.

It took years before I allowed my daughters to be around my brother for more than just a passing glance through the window. Luke is planning on reintroducing Matt to his daughters at my house next month for Thanksgiving. Matt never hurt my nieces. He seems to be doing better. He no longer mutters to himself or laughs at what the voices are saying. The voices are quiet again. Maybe we can move past this. He will have to stay on that medication for the rest of his life.

Delving into the past and the recent events have brought up a mixture of emotions, mainly anger on my part.

I will share some old journal entries with you this week (some of them are funny). Then I will have to put it aside for awhile. I really have a hard time over the holidays because it stirs up all of these family issues. For my mental health, I have to know when to set it aside for awhile.

 

One step at a time…

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When I first met my future husband, I had a jar full of pills on my dresser.

It contained the remnants of unused anti-depressants…Zoloft…Prozac the pill that made me crazy…Anafranil the pill that made me sleep more than I was awake…Paxil, Pemelor…the list goes on…Dexedrine I couldn’t focus at school…Lithium…I remember getting my blood drawn. Weight gain, weight loss, a pill that I needed to eat extra salt…I had round red pills, small white pills, and capsules…even at the highest doses, none of them helped.

Apparently a pill couldn’t cure a crappy childhood.

Paul wanted me to throw the jar out.

I said a lot of negative self talk out loud. I am so stupid. I am so dumb. I am a klutz. I am unlovable. I echoed the words that my daddy said to me. Paul said for every negative thing I said about myself, I had to say 3 nice things about myself. I broke that habit with his help.

I had a tendency to self-destruct. I gravitated towards pain and denied myself joy. I was a harsh taskmaster. I was angry. I was depressed. I am still like that but I express it in healthier ways…like running.

I saw therapists. To be honest, some of them were a joke. How would you feel if you didn’t have an autistic, schizophrenic brother that liked to hurt you? Geez, I wouldn’t know…What would you do if you had a magic wand?…Is that a realistic therapy goal? Maybe I could get a fairy godmother too…Oh, don’t forget the frog that turns into a prince. With me, reality has always been the best approach.

I had one therapist that was really great. She made me talk about feelings..What feelings? I don’t have feelings. I feel nothing…not happiness nor sorrow. I am completely numb. When the memories and feelings came back I was completely devastated by the mess I found.

I went to college with the intentions of becoming a therapist. I wanted to fix my family. I wanted to help others like me. I am 43 years old and have not found one single person in this world that grew up with an autistic/schizophrenic violent brother to help by my experiences.

One day I got rid of the jar of pills on my dresser. My brother asked what I was on because I seemed normal. I was on my own…No more therapy, no more pills…just the love of a person that cared enough to listen.

I slowly started the healing process of recovering from a difficult childhood. It has made me a stronger person. I am no longer outrunning my demons…I am facing them…slowly at my pace…one step at a time…

Since those first few unsteady steps, I must’ve ran a million miles.

 

Oh look, a squirrel!

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I had an idea that the teenage years might be hard when my oldest daughter turned 13. We were on the road…my mom was driving and Angel was in the backseat. Angel asked us, “Did either of you have sex before you got married”? I choked on my spit while my mom almost drove off the road.

Oh look, a squirrel!

Awkward silence filled the air..You see, my mom and I never really talked about those kind of things..Growing up, my friends never had those conversations with their parents either.

I remember my mom sitting me down for ‘the talk’ when I was 12. I learned about sex from a friend when I was in kindergarten..I laughed uncomfortably and walked away…it was too late, I already knew..

Paul and I decided to be open with our kids about difficult topics and they have been particularly candid with us. It hasn’t been easy, but it has been worthwhile..

When my kids were young, I thought they would always stay that way. I didn’t understand why parents of teens seemed to forget how much work it was to go anywhere with a toddler or how tiring it was to stay up half the night with a fussy baby..They always said things like…enjoy it while it lasts, soon they will be teenagers…I thought their comments were cold and callous…didn’t they remember how hard it was?

Now I have teenagers and I understand. I feel like I will be the parent of teens forever. I still don’t sleep at night..

I hear empty nesters say…enjoy it while it lasts, soon you will return to a silent empty house..

It was homecoming not too long ago..I took pictures of Alex and his girlfriend Baylee. It felt strange because not too long ago I was at the same location taking pictures of Angel and Mitch…They broke up this year after dating 3 1/2 years. Mitch is now a junior in college..It did go by fast, didn’t it?

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Homecoming

It seems like I was running around the whole homecoming weekend…I sold tickets for the football game and watched my son play for pep band during halftime. Afterwards, I received a call from my son telling me that he appreciated that I was there. Was something wrong? Did he need money?? No, he was just showing that he cares.

I have been upset with him about going to the party in the cabin for so long now that you are all probably sick of the story. Seriously, what teen would give up a weekend at a cabin without adults and with a seemingly endless supply of liquor??

I was angry at the girl that decided to throw a party that trashed her grandma’s cabin until recently. I found out that her parents divorced in June but are still ‘together’. Her grandpa died in June…it was a hard time and her daddy didn’t leave. Her mom got into a bad accident in July and needed help…her daddy didn’t leave..Her mom got better, then the girl threw a big underage drinking party creating so much stress that…you guessed it…her daddy didn’t leave..Maybe I understand her motives now…

My son didn’t have a party at our house nor at his grandparents cabin. He helps my parents with their yard work and turns down the money they offer him.

The other day my son said that he didn’t really care about his grades because this is the only time that he has to be young and have fun without responsibilities. Besides, he said, the most successful people in his life screwed up in high school.

My brother Luke has a wildly successful career. He was a complete screw off in high school, a million times worse than my son..My husband is another, he flunked out of high school Chemistry and had to take summer school. His grades were so bad in college that he had to take a semester off. Then he turned his life around. Now he is a successful business owner…But son, I could’ve been so much more if I applied myself  just doesn’t seem to cut it.

His role models of success showed him that what he does at this time of his life really doesn’t matter in the long run. I can almost understand his logic. But what he doesn’t know is how difficult their home lives were and the obstacles that they had to overcome.

This summer my son worked for a flooring company full-time. He had to get up in the morning at the time when many of his friends were going to bed. It was physically hard dirty work. He wanted to quit many times, but kept going.. He is a hard worker and that will get him far in life.

He is also a loyal guy…he has had the same girlfriend for almost a year and a half. Baylee is absolutely wonderful and we love her. A couple of months back I overheard a boy talking about a girl he was planning on hooking up with to his seemingly disgusted mother…Since when did previously taboo subjects become public conversation?? I was mortified. Hello, I am right here!

I had another opportunity to feel thankful for my teens’ fondness for long term relationships.

We have had struggles with our son over the years..I was talking to a friend lately commiserating about our teens like they probably do about us. She said something that stuck…Has he improved over the last few years? I felt better because he has improved immensely. Look at how far he has come.

A few months ago, I had to give that same friend a call about her daughter. My youngest daughter opened up to me and told me that her friend was very depressed. Please call her mom and ask her to get help..

I have not found one person that told me the teenage years have been a breeze. If you do tell me that then a) you are lying, b) you need to write a book on how you did it because obviously you have everything figured out, or c) you weren’t there.

Yesterday my 14 year old daughter asked while I was driving…Would you be mad at me if I decide to have sex in high school or would you put me on the pill?

Oh look, a squirrel!

I have to remember that soon I will be returning to an empty house.

 

Animal Kingdom

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Animal Kingdom is my favorite park with kids. One of the best things to do there was go on a safari ride to see the animals.

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When we went with the kids, they got their faces painted. We did an African dance and played instruments. Each part of the park has separate continent themes to enjoy the animals native to that area. This time they even had an area dedicated to Avatar. It was over a 2 hour wait to go on the ride, so we didn’t.

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I think that this park was the hardest for me to tour without the kids. I felt sad that they had grown so fast until I saw the little kids cry. The parents seemed surprised that their children weren’t happy the whole time they were at the happiest place on Earth.

I had expectations at one time too. I thought that my children would get along. I thought that if I provided the right kind of environment for them that they wouldn’t argue as much as they do. It took me until my 2nd child was 6 months old to figure out that expectation wasn’t going to work well for me.

The evening we went to AK, we ate at the African restaurant at the AK resort. I loved seeing all of the animals, but I like to people watch too. I saw a couple with a small child at the table next to ours. When he got a little fussy, they handed him a cell phone. They relaxed instantly to know their boy wasn’t going to make a scene. But I thought ‘how sad’ in my motherly mind…they don’t know this yet, but in another decade they will be trying to pry the phone out of their teenager’s hand to have a conversation.

I have learned so much, but there is still so little that I know.

I really thought I had this parenting thing down. I mean, my oldest adult daughter and I are like best friends. She tell me things that I would never share with my mom.

But what worked with her did not work for my other 2 children. With them it is more of a struggle.

This week I had to tell my son that he needed to do his homework. He is a very smart guy but doesn’t care enough to do the work. He has been sliding by the last couple of years with C’s and D’s. He thinks that he will be able to get into a decent school by just having raw music talent. I also told him that he needs to wear his seat belt although he argued that he has never been in an accident and will not die because he is young.

My youngest daughter thinks that she is stronger than me. She said that she could beat me in a short race. I reminded her of the 5k we did a few years back where I placed in my age group and she came in last place overall. Seriously!

These are the types of conversations that I have with my teens.

But despite my insanity from parenting teenagers, I missed them when I went to the AK park. I missed all of our trips to the zoo when they were little. I missed their excitement and awe over seeing the animals. I wish I could recapture that again. Maybe with my grandchildren someday.

A hurricane, a pocketknife, and luggage lost

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Our flight went so smoothly that we were feeling smug.

There was that one brief moment when Paul realized he had a pocketknife in his backpack before going through security. Last time he got pulled aside after security. That was a little nerve wracking. He ended up having a corkscrew in his carry on luggage. 

Because I am a nervous flyer, I read a lot of articles about flying. Somewhere I read that flight attendants size up passengers to see who needs extra assistance in the event of an emergency and who would be of assistance. 

On a plane, I watch the flight attendants. I put on my music and watch all of the nonverbal cues. The flight attendant looked bored. Good, good…for a minute he looked worried when another attendant ran to the back of the plane. But then he laughed and went back to looking bored again. 

The flight was easy this time, too easy..I was expecting turbulence from flying over the storms caused by the hurricane. But the most difficult part for me was getting off of the Disney bus. It was dark and I missed the step by the seat. I caught myself from falling into the older lady beside me. How embarrassing! I tell you this often enough…for an athlete I am very clutzy. 

Since it was late, I dozed off in my clothes while waiting for our luggage. I woke up every couple hours and opened the door to find nothing. 

The morning came and still no luggage. Apparently I put the luggage tag on but not the sticker. I don’t remember getting one. So it was basically my fault. I called the resort and they weren’t much help. Paul was upset and called back. He is direct and gets shit done but tends to be more reactive than me. He told them that they needed to help find our luggage. Paul said he had medication in the luggage. He was so worked up that they asked if he needed an ambulance.

I am laughing so hard as I write this.

We decided to get some coffee. There were workers clearing brush that was scattered around from the hurricane. On a side note, Orlando didn’t seem to sustain much damage from the storm. However, quite a few of the employees said they didn’t have power at home. The biggest complaint I heard in this area was of people losing freezers and refrigerators full of food. 

With the exception of the customer service person on the phone, the employees were great. Even a few of the workers cleaning brush asked how we were doing. Paul said crappy. Another worker asked jokingly if he wanted to help. Paul asked if they had any extra clean underwear. I inwardly chuckled because I knew he would be part of the day’s story. We spent the morning with the conceirge trying to find our luggage with no success. It disappeared.

We decided to go to Epcot as planned. We were wearing the warm clothes we flew in with. The clothes we slept in. We didn’t have a hair brush, tooth brush, or deodorant. It was hot and humid out. Hotter in Florida than it was in Wisconsin all summer. We stunk! Paul’s wet underwear painfully chafed his skin. Of course we had to be covered from head to toe in black. We didn’t pack extra clothes in our backpacks. Maybe we’ll have to rethink this whole traveling light idea. 

We walked around the happiest place feeling dirty and miserable. I felt strangely emotional. It was unexpected. I remembered coming to Disney a few years ago when the kids were younger. Those were magical times, middle childhood. Back in the days when my kids were innocent to the evil in this world. For the most part, I am happy that my kids are growing up. I am ready to let them go into adulthood, but sometimes I miss the wonder and excitement of the younger years. 

I felt a completely unexpected sense of loss. 

But then my son texted saying he was feeling sick. We had an employee call in because her mom had a heart attack. At that time, I wanted to be done with it all. I wanted the stress and responsibility of parenting and owning a business to be gone. 

But instead, we lost our luggage. 

I’m going to have to talk to the person in charge of magic here…

My gosh, there is always something to write about. Isn’t there?

Thankfully due to Paul’s persistence, our luggage was found. Frontier airlines was great to work with although our luggage ended up in Denver. They even reimbursed us our luggage fee for our inconvenience. 

Finally clean underwear! Woo hoo. 

Now maybe we can enjoy being at the happiest place on Earth!

Birthday blessings

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Today is a special day because it is the golden birthday of the child we recently sponsored in Togo, Africa. I’m sure he won’t be complaining that the birthday money I sent will be a little late.

This child comes from one of the poorest countries in the world. He has a big head and a tiny little emaciated body. Almost half of the people don’t have electricity. Most don’t have indoor bathrooms and have to walk for miles to get clean drinking water. That is their normal. I feel grimy if I can’t shower everyday. Showering is probably the least of their concerns.

The average annual salary in Togo is $400, so the $30 that we are sending him every month is considerable. But what is it to us? We probably spend close to their annual salary in one month of internet and cell phone charges. We are giving $30 out of our excess. Pocket change..coffee for a month..

It reminds me of the Biblical story of the rich man giving a lot of money and the poor widow giving the last of her money. Who gave more? The rich man. But did he really when the widow gave everything she had?

We had the opportunity to sponsor a child years ago but didn’t. Money was tight starting a business on one income with 3 little mouths to feed. It seemed practical to not spend any extra money. We didn’t give when we had little to give.

The child we sponsor sent a letter saying that he was praying that God would bless us for our giving. I’ll admit, it did give me warm fuzzies. But am I really that great if I am giving out of my excess? Maybe I should sponsor 100 children…but I would have to give up blogging to write all of those letters.

To tell you the truth, it is really hard to relate to a child whose favorite toy is a ball. He would be overjoyed to receive a new ball for his birthday. A ball? Not the newest iPhone? Or how about a fidget spinner? Or is that fad over now?? That’s right, most of the children in Togo don’t have the opportunity to stay in school. The literacy rate is horrifying, not to mention how the kids become easy target for sex trafficking.

Someday we would like to visit our child in Togo. I think it would be a humbling experience. Paul and I always spoke of doing a mission trip. We would love to help people rebuild their lives. But we wouldn’t be able to commit to anything until after our children grow up.

Paul mentioned how nice it would be to go to Togo to bring our sponsor child home with us to the land of milk and honey. Or the land of beer and cheese depending on how you view Wisconsin.

Can you imagine what it would be like to place an iPhone in the hands of a child who lived his whole life without electricity? He would be sickened by our excess.

Is it arrogant to think that our way of life is better?? I mean, my kids don’t call me a blessing every time they nickel and dime ($5 and $10) me. Which, come to think of it, happens pretty often.

I bet the food our country throws away in one day would be enough to feed another country. Remember the guilt trip our parents took us on about the starving kids in Africa when we didn’t eat all of our food? If only our parents could’ve sent our food there.

I think the average American would love to help those in desperate need if they could. If they can’t physically help, they would love to send money. The problem is that we are afraid. We all know of someone that was scammed. We cannot trust that our money is going to where it is supposed to go. There are some bad people out there that really ruin things for the people that need help.

Regardless, I feel blessed to help a child. Happy birthday to my other ‘son’.

 

 

Arabella’s letter

/ Outrunning my demons / Leave a comment

Our local high school encourages parents to write a letter to their child upon entering high school to be given to them at graduation. Sounds like an easy task for a ‘writer’, but it is not.

I don’t remember what I wrote for my oldest daughter and she never let me read it after graduation.

A few years back, I wrote the letter to my son and shared that letter with you. It was easier to write because quite frankly I was moved. We were going through some really hard times with him. Times a lot harder than him going to an underage drinking party at someone’s cabin. Let’s just say that I had a lot of words of wisdom and advice to share..

But it is not all about my middle child and his ability to rock the boat today. It is about Arabella, my baby, the child I have little in common with. She doesn’t even look like me. She was a horrible baby. She cried non-stop for the first year, day and night. After that first year, she has been easy going and probably my easiest child to raise so far (although we are only a year into the teen years). She has been practically a straight A student and seems to have her head on fairly straight. What kind of advice could I give her??

Well, here goes…

Dear Arabella,

As I write this on your first day of high school, I can’t believe that you are graduating already.

I have to wonder…Did you start your own business yet? What will the future hold now that you will be out from under our wing?

I remember the day you were born. You were the ‘famous baby’ in a published photography book. Your dad proudly showed the book to every visitor that entered our house for years.

Then came the first day of school. You were afraid to let go of my hand just like now I am afraid to let go of yours. It doesn’t seem possible that childhood could fly by so quickly. Now you are graduating!

We are so proud of you, not just on this one day. We are proud of your past accomplishments and are excited for your future endeavors. We know you will go far with your intelligence, persistence, and leadership skills.

Love,

Mom & Dad