Life

Shoveling snow with a fork

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Do you ever wake up in the morning knowing that the day’s work is not going to get done no matter how hard you work?? It is a dreadful feeling. It kept me from sleeping soundly last night.

This is usually our slow time of year, but we got a large one time account that will keep us very busy until the end of the year. We all left the office early yesterday for a staff party and my employee that helps me with the work had to take today off. Some of the orders that came in yesterday still aren’t done.

Let’s put it this way…there is a blizzard and I only have a fork to shovel with.

As I was working this morning, I ended up getting timed out and lost almost an hour’s worth of work. I was so angry that more than a few obscenities spewed out.

It is almost like spending an hour writing a post, perfecting it (probably the best post ever), and poof it is gone!

Of all days for this to happen! How frustrating!!

I have so many stories to tell you too, but I really need to get back to work.

A simple gift

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Most of the time it is the trials in life that shape and mold us into people with character and strength. It makes us better people.

But if I wholeheartedly believe what I just said…than why do I want the opposite for my children?

Paul and I are both (gulp) intellectuals. We try to provide an environment that stimulates learning and promotes education. We read the kids a lot of books when they were young. Paul and I both love to read. Paul spent half of our children’s childhood working on his Master’s degree. He spends hours researching topics of interest, such as, making a geometrical chart with the wind trajectory and sailing co-ordinates to try to improve his race to learning how to rewire his boat. They always see me writing.

We thought that our children would embrace learning, and most of them do. That is why we had such a hard time the last several years when our son kept bringing home failing grades. We knew that he was smart.

We weren’t expecting him to be just like his dad…

Paul grew up in a completely different environment. His mother, Martha, dropped out of high school before she got pregnant with him as a teenager. She tried over the years to get her GED, but never could pass the test. When she was in her 50’s, she went back to school to get her CNA certificate. Paul, the kids, and I watched her walk down the aisle in her cap and gown to receive her diploma. She was so ecstatic. It was the first degree that she earned in her life. Her excitement saddened me.

When Paul was in 4th grade, he moved from Chicago to a small rural town in Wisconsin. He moved up with his mom and grandma. Due to a brief marriage, Martha had a different last name than Paul. Paul shared the last name of his grandma. This was a very unusual situation back in the 70’s in that area. The kids picked on him because he had no dad. He had a mother with a different last name and still no dad. Everyone thought that Paul was stupid because his mother was intellectually slow. Paul thought that he was stupid too.

He didn’t have a parent that valued education. On parents day at school, he sat alone. His mom couldn’t take time off of work because she was a single parent and had bills to pay. She did what she had to do. He didn’t have someone in the house that could help him with homework. He didn’t have a dad to play catch with.

He failed a high school class and had to take remedial summer school. He ended up going to college because a friend was going and he thought it would be fun. He went to college, did too much partying, and still got bad grades. It caught up to him eventually.

Paul ended up getting kicked out of college for a semester. He went back to his small town and got a factory job alongside his mother. He noticed how poorly his mother was treated there. He couldn’t see himself living that way for the rest of his life. The next semester he went back to school and decided that he wanted to work hard to get good grades. He turned his life around. He even applied for law school, but got rejected.

Sometimes Paul feels like he could’ve been so much more..

He wanted a better life for our children. He gave them something that he never had, although it seems so simple, so basic..

Now it is up to them what they will do with this gift.

 

 

 

 

 

The boy in the trunk

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I received my first call from the principal’s office the beginning of the school year.

I really wasn’t expecting it because for the first month of school their automated lunch reminder was on the fritz. I was used to getting calls every day telling me that my lunch account had a remainder of $0.99. Payment will be necessary or service will be denied. Good thing I didn’t hang up right away expecting the automated message. Otherwise I probably would’ve had my picture on the bad parent bulletin board that I suspect administrators, teachers, and staff have to throw darts at when they really get pissed off at our kids.

It started back in grade school, the first call from the principal’s office. Back in those days, my son and a few of his buddies decided to moon the kids on the playground. They all got suspended for a few days.

Most of the calls I received over the years were for similar mischievous pranks. This time was no different than many of the others.

It was the Friday of homecoming when my son decided to leave the school at lunch with a group of friends (against school rules for sophomores). There were so many friends in his (my) car that there really wasn’t enough room for them all (probationary license violation). So his friend Jay decided that he wanted to be transported to the local fast food dive in the trunk (wrong on so many levels). Seriously, what if my son got rear ended?

Not long after that, I received a visitor that came calling to my door late on a Friday night.

Just a little recap of other visitors that came calling to my door late on a Friday night.

There was a boy named Jake, his mom came to my door to say he ran away. (We found out later that Jake was hiding out at Isaac’s house). In the meantime, his dad flew in from the east coast. We scoured the corn fields, pinpointed stops along railroad track maps, printed out posters with his picture, and searched abandoned buildings, new construction, and storage sheds all while his grandmother cried. Not a good knock on the door.

There was another Friday night door knock from another parent regarding bullying that Isaac did to another boy. That was the first warning bell that went off that something wasn’t right about his friend Isaac. Eventually he got expelled from school for selling drugs. His mother said that he had aspirations of being a pharmacist. Wow, while in middle school. **((*^&*%%$&^$!!!!!

We received another late Friday night knock saying that Isaac ran away.  A few months ago, Isaac moved away. This will (hopefully) be the last time that I mention his name.

The latest Friday night knock on the door was from Jay’s mom. She stopped by to scream at me. Apparently, my son had an agreement with Jay that he would give him unlimited rides this year if Jay does it next year. Jay’s mom was pissed off that she had to pick up her son. Don’t I know that she works third shift?? She screamed at me and before I could say a word, she sped off squealing tires.

I could understand completely if she was mad that my son drove around with her son in the trunk of the car. I just don’t get some of these parents! Really?

Then a miracle happened…. My son said that he wanted to get into a good college. He said that his goal was to be on the honor roll. I almost passed out. For the past three years he failed so many classes that he was on the edge of having to take summer remedial classes.

What happened?? Did he want to prove to his new girlfriend that he was smart? Was it because the bad kid moved away? Was it all of grandma’s extra prayers?? Or is he just finally growing up?? This past quarter he almost made the honor roll. To me it is not achieving being on the honor roll that matters as much as the striving for it. He cares enough now to try for it.

And to think that I thought my best option was to avoid being home on a Friday night!

 

On a day like today

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It happened on a cold December day like today.

It happened to a woman my age who had children the ages of some of my children.

I wonder what it would be like..to find out that I was pregnant unexpectedly. She was worried that her husband would be upset when she suspected. She told my mother that.

Her oldest child was already married and out of the house. Her youngest child was 8.

For a couple of months, her oldest child and her were pregnant at the same time.

It was in December many decades ago that her last child, a healthy baby girl was born.

My mom who was the second oldest, called her older sister the day after the baby was born.

“She’s dead”, my mom said. “The baby?”, asked her sister. “No, mom”.

Many decades, years, minutes, and seconds have passed since that cold December day. The oldest daughter has already passed away. Most of my aunts and uncles are reaching retirement age. But I still see them long for the mother that left them too soon. When they get together they still read the old letters she wrote. Tales of what was made for dinner the evening before. Stories about nothing important that makes the siblings laugh and cry.

I feel very thankful that I have had my mother in my life so long.

Paul and I are now approaching the loss of our first parent. It really forces us to face death. I thought about it a lot over the trip to Door County last month with my mother and a few of her siblings, especially when they spoke of the loss of their mother. (The picture above is of my mom and her sister).

My mother’s youngest brother, the 8 year old boy at the time of his mother’s death, said in Door County that some of his favorite movies today are the ones that his mother took him to see right before she died. It was really touching.

My oldest uncle was 16 when his mom passed away. I have a 16 year old son. He would be mortified if I told him I was pregnant. It is the age that most teenage boys don’t want anything to do with their mother. I suspect that my uncle felt the same way and felt guilty for wanting to separate from his mother especially after she passed away unexpectedly. He is currently going through a nasty divorce from a woman that I knew for my whole life to be my aunt. At this hard time, he yearns for his mother so much that he has been visiting a medium just to try to talk to her again. It is terribly sad.

My mother said to me many times growing up that she wished her mother was there. She knew that her mother would have helped her raise an autistic child.

I never met my grandma. I have only seen the impact she has had on her children. From this, I know that she was a good person.

I am so blessed to have my mother in my life for this long..

I sneeze..

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I sneeze and sneeze and sneeze. 

Am I getting sick? Or am I allergic to the tree?

The cat has fleas..

A sick child needing to be picked up from school early..

I sneeze..

Many ideas swirl through my head, but no time to write..

Work..busy during a slow time..

A weekend away to see my daughter perform..

A long drive home on snowy roads..

Cleaning.. Laundry..

Christmas parties all week…all month..

Bunco party…church choir party…sailing club party…staff party…band concert…choir concert….band concert…choir concert for my three kids in three different schools in two different towns…an overnight family Christmas party out of town…tickets to a show…singing for the Advent services every Wednesday night…singing again on Christmas Eve…Christmas Day with family…

Picking up a kid from college…visiting my dying mother-in-law…scheduling conflicts…a hair cut..a birthday party..

Should I start my Christmas shopping??

I sneeze..

Bring a dish to pass…a dish to pass…a dish to pass…Whatever shall I make?? Whatever shall I take? 

Secret Santa…a gift exchange…

No winter clothes that fit my youngest kid..

Cooking, cleaning, dishes, laundry..

A sick kid, pets with fleas..

I sneeze and sneeze and sneeze…

This, whatever it is..

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Last night after writing, I felt restless.

I had an inability to focus and no desire to do so.

I left home.

I walked out the door and drove off without telling anyone I was going.

I drove aimlessly for an hour. I am drawn to places where I once was happy, but are lost to me now. I drive to the house I used to live in when we were first married, to my grandma’s house, or to the sailing club devoid of boats for the winter. Last night I drove by Lisa’s old house. I glanced as I passed and saw children playing inside. I drove along our old running route. Then I drove aimlessly after that.

I had a conversation with God while I drove. Why weren’t you there for us back then God? Why weren’t you there for me? Where are you now? But I didn’t receive an answer. I entertained the thought that he was never there. Maybe there is no God. I don’t know if I believe or trust anymore. My faith is held intact by a small string.

Paul was worried when I got back home. He forced me to talk to him when I would rather stare off into space, be alone, or attack him so he would stay away. I felt flooded with despair. It threatened to drown me. What is my purpose? Why am I even here?

The sadness was relentless, but I fell into an exhausted sleep only to awake hours later from a horrifying nightmare. I dreamed that I went back in time. There was a horrific lightening storm like one I never saw before. The lightening burned holes in the ground and tried to pull me into it. I had no way to protect anyone. My kids were in it while they were younger, I found my little brothers, and relatives that are long gone now. I couldn’t protect anyone and had trouble finding them.

I awoke in absolute terror. I wrapped myself tightly in my blankets to try to feel safe. But the feelings of terror surrounded me for another half an hour. I got up for awhile, unable to sleep. Then I fell back into a restless sleep for the rest of the night.

I awoke feeling nervous and afraid, like an intruder was in the house. I felt jumpy. I know the feelings weren’t true. I was alone, and no one was there..

The memories keep rushing back. Images ricochet through my mind..Sounds echo through my head… I hear the laughter of children on the playground… I hear them mocking Matt.. I watch as Matt kicks the girl at the roller rink.. I hear her screams and her dad’s angry yell.. I walk through the playground with Matt and his therapist trying to see if the laughter of the children will trigger a meltdown to try to help him somehow stop..I hear the cats cry..I hear a music box and Aunt Grace talking..I hear the laughter of Uncle Harold..

The images and sounds haunt my mind. Whispers of memory. Distorted, out of focus, yet somehow real, remembered faintly.

Then I realized that I was back home. I am feeling the way that I felt back then. The anger, the depression, the fear, the insomnia, the nightmares..

Paul said that maybe I should take some time off to rest. But I am going to work…I am following my regular exercise routine…and I am grasping onto my little string of faith..

If I let go, I will surely drown…

 

A blue Christmas…

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Last night I decorated my new real blue Christmas tree…alone.

I felt such a loss after Angel left to go back to college. Year after year, we decorated the Christmas tree together. I really missed having her here this year. I didn’t tell her that though. There are so many kids dropping out to be closer to home. We both know she is right where she needs to be.

My other two children were not interested in decorating the tree with me. Just this last weekend Arabella said that she didn’t think her teenage self would like me very much. Bayley was over and Alex wanted to spend time with her. The last thing I wanted was to force the kids to spend time with me. I want them to want to.

I wanted for just a second to put them into my world growing up. I wanted them to realize how important this tradition is to me. But I protect them from all of that.

The holidays sometimes does crazy things to my head. 

The next thing I know, I am back home. Mom and I are baking cookies for Santa. There is a tree with glimmering lights. There were Cabbage Patch dolls hidden in wrapping paper under the tree. 

Then just like that, everything I had was gone.

Mom said that Matt couldn’t tolerate Christmas trees, real or fake. Everything stopped. We no longer had Christmas trees in the house. We no longer put out cookies for Santa. We no longer decorated with lights or candles. That was no longer allowed. What used to be magical and fun turned cold and desolate. It became a season of despair for me. 

Thankfully, my grandma always had us over on Christmas Day. I never cared that her trees were less than perfect. She always cut her own tree from her backyard. I was happy there. Except for the year that my mom told her that she could no longer have a tree because Matt was allergic. My grandma decorated the wall with bows that year. I was so angry.

Last night I put my head in my hands and cried. A part of me will forever be broken.

I wanted my kids to understand what having a tree means to me because I never had it. I did have it at one time, but it was taken away. I wonder if my younger brothers even remember a time when we had a Christmas tree in the house. Perhaps I will ask them. Maybe it is better if they don’t remember.

Last night I felt so much anger and despair. If my mom were to call, I wouldn’t answer the phone. It is not fair to her to be angry about something that happened 30 years ago. It’s not her fault that Matt is autistic. The whole situation was unfair to all involved.

I want to help other special needs families learn from my experiences, but I feel so much rage. It hurts to reach out. My mind goes absolutely haywire this time of year with anger, depression, and anxiety. I can’t seem to control it. I can’t seem to escape the memories. So many years have past now, but it still hurts when I pick at the scars.

Why did you take everything away from me? Did you think that taking our Christmas traditions away from us would make Matt any less autistic? It was not like he broke out in hives and had trouble breathing. I needed this to help get through the dark days. I needed some light. But my needs got ignored. The funny thing is, Matt wasn’t any more or less violent without the tree. It didn’t matter either way to him, but it did to the rest of us

I’m sorry, I didn’t intend for my post to be this way. I was going to post a picture of my lovely blue tree. This post was going to be light and fluffy like the snow we don’t have on the ground outside. I didn’t think that I would respond this way. This time I didn’t brush the feelings away. I let myself grieve. Sometimes I wish my kids would understand that the things they take for granted as normal were never normal for me. 

I am not usually an emotional person. I am usually cool, calm, and detached from feelings. I don’t want to live in that cold emotionless void anymore. I want to feel now even if it hurts. I am stronger now, strong enough to handle this.

Thanks for listening to me. It really helps me feel better. 

Over the river and through the woods

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Yesterday morning I awoke with a feeling of trepidation. I think I was nervous. I wasn’t sure what to expect..

I drove over the river (or I should say over the railroad tracks, I’ve never seen so many tracks crossing the highway anywhere else) and through the deep dark woods of WI to take the kids to see grandma (my mother-in-law Martha). She didn’t make it over for Thanksgivng. In fact, she has gotten to the point where she is no longer eating much more than applesauce. 

For years, my son Alex and my husband Paul joined Paul’s stepdad Darryl to hunt. For the last couple of years, Martha would come to my house and spend the weekend playing cards, working puzzles, and watching movies. But she is too sick to go anywhere now. She has stage 4 terminal cancer. The chemo stopped working and the cancer has spread. The guys have been visiting her the last couple of weekends, but I haven’t had the chance to visit for awhile. I felt that it was important to take Angel out to see her while she was home from college for a few days. Will it be the last time?

I was afraid. Afraid of what I would find. Paul has been coming home upset from his time spent there. He didn’t know why. Then after awhile, he said that it was horrible seeing his mother die.

So I was afraid. My stomach felt upset. Would she be in great pain? Would she forget my name like the last time I visited. It’s hard to see someone who was once so vibrant and full of life fade away. She lost over 50 lbs and is just skin and bones. Her hair is starting to grow back in a brown patch of fuzz, so different from her black curly long hair she once had. Her gait is slow, she aged 20 years in a year. 

She was happy to see us. 

I was able to sneak away for awhile to see the deer stands. In all these years, I have never seen where they hunt.  In all those years, they only got one buck. To think just this last week we awoke to find a deer delivered to the end of our driveway, but the meat was not salvageable.  
Regardless, if they don’t bring back a buck, every year they bring back a Christmas tree. 

I had to show you a picture of Alex and Paul at Alex’s tree stand. 

Our visit with Martha went better than the girls and I expected. Martha is such an unrealistic optimist that I think she makes herself feel better. She kept talking about the day that she will get better and be able to come over to visit. That day will never come, but maybe it is better that she believes it.  It was nice to see her so upbeat and not have to see her suffer. The thought of watching a loved one suffer is unbearable.

Thanksgiving break is officially over now. Today I dropped Angel off to catch her carpool for the 4 hour drive back to school. It was strange to see her go back again with her suitcase full. I don’t always like my new reality, but I have learned to accept it. If only I could stop time for just a few seconds…

I dropped Angel off and came home to a glorious blue Christmas tree. I am excited for the beginning of the next holiday season. A time of hope and light. A time of such intense busyness that I forget all of my troubles.. 

I am going to decorate my tree tonight..

Post party impression

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Did everyone survive Thanksgiving? I made it through…

All of the hours spent cleaning, cooking, and doing dishes…then…BOOM….the whole shebang is over just like that. I feel so wiped out. Maybe it’s just the tryptophan from the turkey..

The holiday went well. We didn’t discuss politics, although oddly enough, it is something we all agree upon. 

Practically everyone who came over had special diets. My daughter Angel is a vegetarian now. She called me a couple of days ago from college saying that she needed to go to the dentist while she was home. She said that her gums were streaked, painful, and bleeding. The college nurse said that she needed a new toothbrush. Being the worry wart mom I am, I figured out she had a B12 deficiency from being a vegetarian. 

After she started taking B12, her symptoms went away. My dad saw her take the B12 and asked her if she was taking birth control pills. Some things never change. Not funny, dad, not funny…

My son Alex doesn’t eat vegetables. Nothing green ever touches his lips. 

My mom has new allergies. She can’t have black pepper, parsley, or cinnamon. Do you think I am kidding? I did make a special cinnamon free cherry pie for her, but I heard it wasn’t as good as the one with cinnamon. 

My autistic brother Matt is gluten and dairy free. He also has allergies to all foods that start with the letters B and S or so it seems. The list changes rather often, so I never know what to do and feel stupid for asking.

Alex brought his girlfriend Bayley over for Thanksgiving for the first time. I wondered if Alex warned her about my family. Did he tell her of grandpa’s crude jokes? Or Matt’s propensity to fart and belch loudly while at the table? This time it seemed like Matt ate beans for a week straight before his visit. Then he urinated on the bathroom floor. All of this is completely normal, but rather uncomfortable for a first time visitor.

I was thankful that my mom brought food and helped me dry dishes. She did drive me a little batty when she talked about how my brother Luke is so much healthier than me. Did you know that Luke stopped eating out of Teflon pans? He is practically a vegan now. When he does eat meat, it is never red and is always cage free. He only eats whole foods that are organic. He has the cholesterol level of a 14 year old. Maybe if I was more like Luke, I wouldn’t need to take Prilosec twice a day because that causes kidney damage. How would I like dialysis? I wouldn’t need dialysis someday if I am more like Luke. My gosh, what if I was a couch potato chip eating smoker? 

Maybe I should just give Luke all of my medals…

Did you know that running is bad for me as well?? My mom said that my varicose veins will get worse. It is just not healthy. My mother-in-law also said that running was bad. Just look what happened to her brother. The running killed him. He ran 5 miles every day and smoked 2 packs of cigarettes. Must have been the running!

Ahh, I try to be as healthy as I can be and let the rest go. I hate to say it, but none of us will get out of here alive. In my lifetime, I have seen healthy people get cancer and unhealthy people live a long life in good health. I am not going to make myself completely miserable by worrying about the damn Teflon. People already give me crap about running marathons. My neighbor even said that running wasn’t healthy as I ran by his house one day. He hollered out to me while he was outside smoking a cigarette. 

I just don’t get it! How can people think running is unhealthy??  

Let the holiday season begin!  

Happy Thanksgiving!!

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It wasn’t too long ago that I finished the 30 day writing challenge. Really, I told you everything there was to tell about myself and then some. What more is there to blog about? 

It was nice having a preset topic to write about every day. It has been an adjustment just thinking of what to say. To think that I wrote almost every day for a year and a half. Where did I come up with all of my ideas??

But I did miss writing about the day to day adventures. Oh, I have a few good stories to tell you about things that happened over the 30 day challenge that I missed writing about. But I’ll save those for another day.

Yesterday Angel came home from college for Thanksgiving break. Today my 2 daughters and I spent the last 4 hours in the kitchen. All we have to show for it is 2 cherry pies, 3 dozen deviled eggs, and a large stack of dirty dishes. And it is almost time to make supper! How did women do this everyday?? I suppose not everyday was Thanksgiving.

We are having a small crew this year…Just ten people…our family of 5 plus Angel’s boyfriend and Alex’s girlfriend, my mom, dad, and Matt. 

I would’ve had Alex bake today too. He is good in the kitchen. But he is spending the day with his girlfriend. They have been going out for 6 months as of today. Angel and her boyfriend have been together 3 years as of this month as well. They both picked good choices…no matter what ends up happening…I am thankful I am not worried about them dating horrible people…

Really, there is so much to be thankful for…things I take for granted…

I have a wonderful husband, 3 great kids, a good job, a warm house, food on the table, and so many blessings…

I am thankful for you…taking the time to get to know me..

Okay, enough of being all mushy! 

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving!