Life times 

I had every intention of writing yesterday, but things don’t always go as planned. After today, I am done with my spring cleaning. Now we are just waiting for spring. Usually in the middle of April, spring turns on like a light switch. I plan ahead to have my spring cleaning over and done with before it is nice out. 

It has been cold this past week with more days of snow than without. Some patchy snow remains on the ground with another inch of snow and sleet expected this afternoon. Friday afternoon thick snow flakes fell to the ground. Please don’t tell anyone else in WI that I am saying this, but it was very beautiful. Saturday morning the sun glistened making the snow sparkle like diamonds. But now it is bleak and cloudy. All of the babies cried in church. They seemed to take all of our repressed feelings towards winter and let them spring forth like the wailing of the wind that cries out to us today.

Yesterday, I went to the bowels of Hades into our little crawl space to peer into all of the bins and boxes. I was hoping to find the letters my mom wrote to me the summer that she spent out of state in the hospital with Matt. I haven’t been able to find them anywhere. I’m afraid that I may have accidently thrown them out with all of the high school notes that I found. My old school texting! LOL. You know, the notes that I didn’t want my parents to find and now I wouldn’t want my kids to find. LOL. It makes me sad, but maybe they will turn up somewhere yet.  

Also, I was looking for pictures to display for my daughter’s high school graduation next month. Since more than half of my childrens childhood was before the digital camera era, I have 4 big bins and multiple boxes of unorganized pictures and memorabilia. I started to feel stressed that my display of her life would suck. I hate to be unorganized with this since organization is a strength of mine. So I decided to make a display of pictures from all of the shows my daughter performed in along with a couple baby pictures. Then next winter, instead of working puzzles, I am planning on going through all of the pictures. I am going to work with my mom to take all of the old family pictures and back them up online. After my kids are settled as adults, I am going to gift them with a bin of their most precious childhood moments. 

Yesterday we had my parents and Matt over for supper last minute. We spent several hours watching the old family videos that we had uploaded to a hard drive. It was so strange seeing my brothers, cousins, and myself as young children. Then we watched my kids as young children. It was so strange seeing the progression of time all in one day. Time sure flies. Enjoy every moment while you can.

Mouse house

I remember as a little girl whenever someone in my family got a big box, they brought it over for me to play in. My grandma called the box a mouse house. I colored my little house and grandma would cut holes in the box to make windows and doors to peak out of. For a brief period in my adult life, I had a real life mouse house.

Last month my son participated in his first science fair at the high school. He presented a project on the different types of bombs. You might think that this would be an interesting project, but it wasn’t. I mean, he couldn’t make a project and test it at the school like other kids did. His project consisted of magazine picture cut outs and a lot of writing. Other kids had projects that included experiments with sound waves, catapults, ice cream made out of different ingredients, the effects of caffeine on sport performance, etc..

On a side note, my personal favorite this year was the one that tested the effectiveness of acid reflux products on reducing stomach acid. The girl said that the least effective products were harmless and that the most effective were harmful. She said that the most effective products cause organ failure. She said that if you suffer from acid reflux, it will kill you. Great! Another thing to worry about. I never imagined that my stomach acid would get me in the end. Lol. I really hope that girl doesn’t decide to become a doctor.

The science fair brought back memories of Angel’s first couple of science fairs. For her second year, Angel did an experiment on 3 white mice. She started to bring her mice home on weekends. She didn’t want them to end up being snake food after the science fair. She wanted to keep them as pets.

Now the science classroom housed the mice and one more animal, a 3 legged cat. One weekend the door to the room that contained the mice was not shut tight. By Monday, there was an all out mouse massacre. Angel’s mice were the only mice to survive for the science fair since she brought them home. After the science fair was over, she convinced us to keep the mice. She was going to keep them in a cage in her room so our cat would not get them.

I would like to say that she never had a mouse in her room before, but she did. A few years previous there was a tear on the bottom of our screen door. When another dog came into our yard, our dog totally tore through our screen door leaving a big gap. If we left the sliding door open, we had ourselves a redneck pet door. It worked well for awhile with the pets letting themselves in and out as they pleased, until the day our cat brought a live mouse in our house. We screamed as our cat ran with the mouse into the girls bedroom and dropped it there. Eventually Paul was able to catch and release the mouse outdoors. That was the end of our pet door.

Right after Angel brought the mice home, two of them died. The last mouse lived a couple more months. I called him Roady which was short for rodent. He didn’t care for me that much at first. He bit my finger a couple of times until I decided that I was going to try to win him over. I started hand feeding him wax worms and other little delicacies to the point that he was happy to see me.

We ended up buying him a little hamster ball so he could explore the house. He did escape his cage a couple of times. We found him bundled up in Angel’s basket of yarn. He liked the yarn so much that we put it near his cage so he could pull it in and make a little nest. That little mouse made a sweet pet. It really changed my viewpoint on the less desirable creatures of creation.

A sibling’s viewpoint on autism awareness  

April is autism awareness month as quite a few of you are aware of. I have been seeing a lot of arguments lately about autism awareness vs. trying to find a cure. I’ll be honest, it is pissing me off. The comments seem to be all about accepting people the way they are (which is great) vs. changing the way people are. As if by trying to find a cure, we are somehow not accepting people the way they are. That is ridiculous!

I have an analogy for you. Let’s play a little pretend. For a second, let’s pretend that autism is depression. Perhaps you have a sibling with a mild case of depression. His depression made him a great artist. Some days he can paint and create wonderful masterpieces. The next day, he can’t get out of bed. When you take him out to restaurants he cries and that embarrasses you. You don’t want to take the depression away because then he might not be a great artist. But you want everyone to know he is depressed because sometimes he acts in ways that are not socially acceptable.

Now I am going to paint another scenario. Perhaps you have a sibling that is depressed. But your sibling has one suicide attempt after another after another. It tears your whole family apart. 

If you lived out the first scenario, good for you. I’m glad that you were able to go to restaurants and do things that other normal families get to do. I can understand why you might be holding the awareness and acceptance card. But we lived out scenario number two. 

When my mother got her first black eye and bloody lip, it was autism.

When my brother banged his head against the wall over and over, it was autism.

When my brother rocked himself to sleep until he got blood on his sheets, it was autism.

For the scars people could see, it was autism.

For the scars people couldn’t see, it was autism.

When I lost my best friend, it was autism.

When my brother was lead out of school in handcuffs, it was autism.

When family and friends turned away, it was autism.

When my brother was ridiculed and mocked, it was autism.

When he chased me with a knife, it was autism.

When my parents had to find a caregiver to attend my wedding, it was autism.

When my daughter was attacked, it was autism.

Of course, I want a fricken cure!

May God have mercy on all those that suffer from this. I am hoping that someday autism will be a preventable.

You have no idea how terrified I was to have children. Or how nervous I was when my brother Luke had children. Or how much I worry about the possible future family of my brother Mark and his new bride. I don’t know if any of us have the strength to live through that again.

My mom always said that my brother Matt did not do these terrible things, it was autism. 

Autism you suck! Why did you do this to my brother?

 

Just wait…

When my family got together a couple of weeks ago to bowl, I requested the song Stressed Out by Twenty One Pilots. Of course, they never did end up playing the song before we left which seriously caused me to be a little stressed out. LOL. My baby brother Luke gave me some crap about my song selection. He chided me a bit about being stressed out all of the time. He told me that being stressed out was a choice.

This is where I retorted back, “Just wait!” You know that little comment that other people make when they are a little further down the road in life. Like the time that I thought that my toddler wouldn’t throw a temper tantrum in the grocery store over candy like my friend’s child did. Ha, ha just wait your days are coming she said. They sure did. So I am bottling up Luke’s comment to give back to him when he has teenagers. You know, when I am an empty nester and he is in the throes of raising teens. Just wait!

Yes, my life is stressful! I don’t seem to have a lot of control over that right now. I am trying to run a business with my husband. I am raising three teens and trying to be an involved parent. In my spare time I am training for a marathon. Oh, not to mention trying to write a blog everyday. All while maintaining a clean house, staying up on all of the laundry, and trying to keep some shred of sanity.

Luke was a very difficult child. His role as the youngest sibling was to make sure that my autistic brother Matt did not get all of the attention. And he entertained us! When Luke was a little boy, he got angry at my dad and cut the live wire to my dad’s electronics almost electrocuting himself. He also kicked a big hole in the wall. When he was a teenager, he played a round of co-ed strip volleyball in the front yard. But my personal favorite was when he rolled around in the front yard wrestling with my dad for the car keys. My dad had chest pains and spent the evening in the ER. It all ended well. My brother was a wild child. You wouldn’t know that by looking at him now. He is very serious. The running joke is that he became serious and I became wild. But we won’t talk about that now!

My mother did her due diligence to make sure that she prayed that my brother has children just like him. Now he has two daughters. The oldest is serious like he is now. But the youngest is quite the firecracker. She is a wild child. She screams when she doesn’t get her way. She has a very impressive high pitched scream. She tells it like it is without a filter. She is bossy. She loves to be the center of attention. She makes us laugh.  And she just made a list of four boys that she is going to kiss when she is old enough. I just can’t wait.

So someday when I am living the life of leisure and my brother has teenagers I am going to tell him that he is in control of how much stress he is under. Just wait!!

 

Spring feverish

I feel crabby. 

Work was busy and my employee didn’t come in today, or yesterday for that matter. Her sister’s dog died over the weekend. So I stayed at the office a couple of hours later than usual to catch up. Add in a staff meeting, fitting in an hour workout, finding time to vote, and having a sick child makes me feel crabby. Accuse me of having a lack of sympathy, but I could have used an extra hand at work today.  

Business owners have to drag their ass to work when they have a sick kid, when they are sick, after having a baby, after having major surgery, after a death in the family, etc.. I check my work on the weekends, on vacation, heck even right now. Sometimes I am tempted to check my emails during church. I know, what a sinner!
This summer after Angel graduates she will be working for us until she goes to college. I plan on teaching her everything I know. She has a great mind for business. Alex is great with computers. Arabella is incredible at sales.  My future employees live in my own house. We’ll see. 

Some days work is slow and at others times I can barely keep up. When work is busy, there are tons of customer service emails and calls. I am great at what I do, but sometimes I get frustrated. Sometimes I have to deal with difficult customers that are upset. I am good at diffusing angry people on the phone. It just seems like I get nothing done. Yes, we suck, now can I please get back to work?? LOL. Or my favorite is when people ask when the work will be done but I can’t get to it because I am answering tons of questions about when it will be ready. We have great employees and clients, but some days when work gets bottle necked I feel stressed. 

I printed out my son’s assignments from school before I left work, then forgot them there. I realized this after I took my shoes and jacket off. Then I sped back to the office in the blowing snow to pick it up. Yes, it is cold and snowy again. A couple of weeks ago we had two days of sun. I had forgotten how bright it was. Since then it has been cold, rainy, or snowing. Thankfully, we have an office close to our house.

I think I have a case of spring fever! This is always the hardest time of year. It sure is a lot easier being at work when I don’t want to be outside though. 

Depression, my old friend

In response to my neighbor’s suicide…

I understand your struggle…

When I grew up, my childhood was very difficult. It was so difficult that the big people in my life could barely cope with the circumstances that they had to deal with. In early childhood I developed two friendships to help me cope, depression and anxiety.

Depression was a close friend of the family. My dad made friends with depression too. Sometimes when the house was really quiet, I was afraid of what he might do. My brother Mark found friendship with depression too. When he was a teen, my mom found several nooses in the tree. I knew the temptation. I knew the struggle.

In late childhood, I tried to break my friendship with depression but she fell in love with me.

When I became an adult, I learned how to live with my friend. I kept myself very busy so I wouldn’t have time for my friend to visit. I worked harder and harder. When my friend noticed I was free, she would visit me.

Have you ever been suicidal before? Do you know what it is like to be that depressed? I do. It is very frightening. Thoughts and images popping into my head of my own demise over and over again. Me in the bathtub with slashed wrists. Driving very fast into a tree. A loaded gun. An empty bottle of pills. Horrible, intrusive thoughts that invade my mind unwanted. The more I try to push my friend away, the more she clings.

Over time I learned how to cope with having a difficult friend. I am a workaholic. Keeping busy keeps her away. I have a strong faith that exorcises my demons. I try to outrun my demons by running 100 miles a month. I take massive doses of vitamin D over the winter months. I try to have something to look forward to. I find the support of family and close friends who have survived difficult times.

What can others do to help that haven’t experienced it? Listen without condemnation. Allow venting, even if it means listening to things you don’t want to hear. Don’t tell them to get over it even if it has been several years since they experienced the initial pain. Sometimes being a good friend is encouraging others to seek professional help.

Does that mean that I no longer get depressed? No. Sometimes when I go through hard times, my friend comes back to help me. A few months ago when I was having difficulties with my son, she visited me for awhile. I spent a long time staring off into space. This is very hard to explain, but when I stared off into space I felt peaceful. When you sink down low enough, sometimes you feel so empty that even the pain is gone. It is a very alluring trap. I had to pull myself out of that dark void. I feel sorry for those that struggle to break free.

Over the years, I learned a few things about my friend. It is okay to feel sad. Sometimes the negative feelings in our life motivate change. During difficult times and emotions, I tell myself that the feelings will pass. I also tell myself over and over that I have felt this way before and survived it. I know how to cope, how to get through.

I am trying hard to face all of the feelings that were locked away for so many years. Writing has been very therapeutic. Maybe if I write honestly about my experiences and struggles, then others won’t feel so all alone. I am okay. You will be okay too. Find a way to cope. Be understanding toward others that struggle. Maybe it will prevent one more unnecessary death.

Same road, different paths

A few days ago, my neighbor committed suicide.

This past week after my kids got home from school, Angel told me that she thought something was wrong. “Mom, there are a lot of cars in the neighbor’s driveway. There is also a police car in the driveway. He never had that many cars in his driveway, even for Christmas or Easter.” I looked over that way in curiosity, but dismissed any concerns because I saw the neighbor the day before and he was fine.

It all started a couple of houses down a couple of months before. Our neighbor had a rummage sale on a cool fall weekend. He told us that his wife of over 20 years left him for another man. They never had children, but were delighted to see ours when we stopped by year after year on Halloween. We looked through his rummage sale of broken dreams. He sold empty picture frames where wedding pictures, happy moments, and vacations used to be. He sold games, his and her costumes, wine glasses, and kitchen items. Then after that weekend, the driveway was empty up until a few days ago.

 I frequently saw our neighbor out on the road. When we first moved here, he walked his two dogs by our house. Then after awhile, he walked with one dog. That dog would walk slowly and the man would wait patiently. Then after awhile, the man walked by himself. He was a large man and every time he went by my dog would bark. He walked in all kinds of weather sometimes with weights. He wore a blaze orange hat. Every time he saw me he was friendly. He noticed when I ran longer runs and asked if was training for something special. I told him about the marathon. He wished me luck.

There are a couple of people that I see often while running and he was one of them. I spoke to him a few weeks back. I think it was about the weather. I told him that I couldn’t wait for warmer days as I ran by. Then I saw him the day before he died. We were going in separate directions on the same road. 

I feel sad that he was so lonely and unhappy that he took his life. I will miss seeing him on the road. 

Training like a warrior (oops, I meant worrier)

The dishes are done. The laundry is folded and put away. I just put on my pajamas and am sitting on the recliner with my feet up. Lazy? No way, I took a half a day off of work to run 20 miles. I did it and it went better than I expected. The last couple of miles were dreadful, but I did it. I admit I was a little worried. This has been the most miles that I ran since the marathon last summer. My endurance hasn’t been what I wanted it to be lately. I almost feel out of shape. Treadmill running is tough, but I am satisfied with how I did today. I was wondering if I don’t have what it takes anymore. I am not getting any younger.

I thought that after I was done running that I would feel better, but I don’t. I feel edgy, worried. I feel like the pattern is off. Some detail is out of place, but I can’t figure out what is wrong. I feel like something bad is going to happen. Call me crazy, you wouldn’t be the first. Maybe it is the rain. It hasn’t stopped raining in days. 

Or maybe I feel a little self-conscious about opening up to you. Things are getting a little too personal and I want to step back. I want to pull away. You are starting to find out who I am. Maybe you won’t like the real me. Sure, I can tell you a lot of good things about me. I could tell you stories of how I like to save birds or give people their lost wallets back. But what about the bad? I feel vulnerable and afraid. I am not leaving, but sometimes I want to.

Or maybe I feel edgy because this morning I got a text from another mom warning me of a new potential threat. We just severed Alex’s ties to his druggie friend last week just to have another come walking through the door. If my son wants to do drugs, there is nothing that I can do to stop him. I wish I had full control. I like to play God instead of trusting Him. 

I need to relax…Grrrr.. Tomorrow I made lunch plans with my mom. Then we are going to get a massage. I thought that it would be great to get my long run in today so the massage tomorrow will feel even better. I am not in a lot of physical pain, just the normal aches and pains of a long run. No knee pain which is great. Then tomorrow night I will be watching Angel perform in her last high school play. I am so proud of her, I always have been. She got straight A’s this quarter. Paul and I always told the kids that if they got straight A’s we would take them out to a restaurant of their choice. It has been close, but this is the first time it happened. Finally some good news!!

P.S. I decided to make some split pea soup with the leftover Easter ham. I put yellow split peas, carrots, and potatoes in the slow cooker all day along with the rest of the ham on the bone. It was the first time I made it in the slow cooker. It was the best batch that I have ever made. It was more soupy than thick. Yum. I didn’t eat much all day with running so I had two bowls. I hope I don’t regret that tomorrow. 

Finders keepers, losers weepers?

A couple of years back, I found a wallet alongside the road while I was running. I had a couple of choices of what I could do. I could keep running. I could take the money and run. Or I could take the wallet home and try to find its owner.

I have never been the kind of person who does nothing, so that option was out.

As for option number 2, I am not the type of person that steals things. Although there was that one time in 2nd grade. There was a boy that sat in front of me in class. He had this miniature soda can that would look really good in my doll house. He would sit at his desk and pretend to slurp out of this little can like it contained the best sugary substance in the world. A can that I thought would look great in Barbie’s hand while she entertained Ken in her kitchen.

One day while the boy was leaving his desk, he bumped the little can off his desk. It rolled underneath my desk. Finders keepers, losers weepers! I took that little soda can home to Barbie. For years, I felt guilty every time I played with that little toy. Five years later, I decided to return the toy that I “found” in his locker. I wonder what he thought when he saw it. Maybe he forgot all about it, but I certainly didn’t.

I don’t think that I could live with myself if I chose the finders keepers, losers weepers option. There was around $200 in the wallet.

So I chose to take the wallet home and do a little detective work to find the owner. First, I had to pick up all of the credit cards that were strewn into the ditch. The first thing that I saw was a driver’s license. Great, I had a name and an address. I rummaged through the wallet for a phone number. How many people do you know that carry their own phone number in their wallet?

I snooped through every inch of that wallet without turning up any more clues. The whole time taking guilty pleasure in searching through someone’s personal belongings.

When Paul got home, he took a look at the wallet. He said that he knew the guy that the wallet belonged to. He was able to find the man’s number and return his wallet to him. Coincidentally, we ended up running into that same man later on in the week at a local restaurant. He came up to me and thanked me for returning his wallet. He also gave me $40 that I didn’t want to take. He refused to leave unless I took the money. He said that if I hadn’t returned the wallet to him that he would be out $200. Plus he would have had to get a duplicate driver’s license and cancel all of his credit cards. What a hassle that would’ve been!

One thing I can say about this crazy running hobby of mine is that it often takes me on some interesting adventures. 

Act your age! Wait, how old are you anyway?

It has come to my attention lately that strangers think my children are all the same age.

We recently got dental insurance for the first time. As you can imagine, it is very expensive to pay out of pocket for the dental needs of a family of 5. Especially last year with a crown and wisdom teeth extraction. The change required us to go to a different dentist.

When it came time for us to go in for our first appointment, my daughter Angel who is 17 was taken to the pediatric section in error. They told her to look at the silly animal characters on the wall if she was feeling frightened. They spoke to her in a high pitch sing song voice that you would use with small children. My 12 year old daughter was taken into the adult section.

I understand your confusion, I really do. Even Angel’s boyfriend calls her the 12 year old granny. Since she got her hair cut with bangs, she looks like she is 12. Plus, she doesn’t look like the stereotypical theater person. She never dyed her hair, wears normal (if not boring) clothes, and hardly ever wears makeup. Her boyfriend calls her granny because she is always knitting or crocheting. She is almost an adult but looks like a child. She looks almost exactly like I did as a child and has my body shape. She also has a similar personality to mine.

My son Alex is 15. He looks his age. For the longest time, he was a small and thin boy until finally he grew. Now he towers over me, muscular and lean. His personality is also similar to mine. He looks like his dad and has my body shape.

Arabella is 12, but she looks like an adult. Her personality is very different from mine. She looks like her dad and has his body type. This past Christmas, Arabella became the topic of conversation with my aunt through marriage. She loudly said, “I see that Arabella has joined the club.” “What club??” “Oh, that is right, you wouldn’t know. Did you ever consider breast reduction surgery?” She is 12. “She is going to have back issues.” She is 12!! She looks so much older that other people (myself included) expect her to act like she is an adult. It doesn’t seem right or fair. 

And so it is. Two weeks ago we were all back at the dentist’s office. After I had my fillings worked on, I came out to the waiting area to find Alex and Arabella arguing. I told them that if I heard one more word from them that I would take away their electronics. Alex quit the fight, but Arabella argued on. I told her to hand over her electronics. She come over to me and said, “Yeah, try to make me.” She has over 30 lbs on me. She towered over me while I cowered underneath her. This has made parenting challenging for me. Then Alex stood behind me and demanded she hand over her electronics. This started sibling battle number 2. Even though Alex tried to back me up, I told him that this was between Arabella and I.

I have been parenting for a long time now. I have noticed three stages of struggle with all of my children. The first stage everyone has heard of, the terrible two’s. This is their first struggle for independence. The second stage happened around 5 years, right around the time that they went to school full-time. This is another time of asserting independence. The third stage is during preadolescence, the middle school age.

The middle school years have been fraught with the biggest struggle for independence that I have seen so far, plus add in new hormonal changes. All of my kids were moody, argumentative, easily irritated, knew everything, and would often talk back. At this age, the kids treated us like we were totally stupid. Paul and I would walk around the house with our hands in the air saying “what do I know?” Anything that we would say they would argue against. I think that this is very normal although we were shocked by it with our first child. They are starting to find their identity and make their way in life without us.

The teenage years are wonderful. I am not kidding, there is hope. For the first time, you will be able to reason with your child like an adult. For example, a few months back Angel wanted to go on a weekend skiing trip with her boyfriend. A group of college students were going to rent a lodge for the weekend without parents around. But my daughter was 17. I told her that she wasn’t going to be allowed to go. She was disappointed and sad. Later, after the initial anger wore off, my daughter came up to me and told me that she understood my decision and the reasoning behind it. I was floored. It was so hard to not let her go when she agreed with me. If she would have thrown a big fit and screamed how much she hated me, I sure would have had an easier time saying no.

I think that by the time my youngest child leaves, I’ll finally have this parenting thing figured out. Until then, don’t give my 17 year old daughter a kids menu. And don’t even think about offering my 12 year old a drink from the bar.