Raising teens

Another late night visitor

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I received another late night knock on the door this week. Surprisingly, it wasn’t for my son. It was the neighbor girl Abby who was crying bearing gifts of cookies and a handwritten apology note for my youngest daughter Arabella.

I found out there was a problem when I picked up the girls after school. Arabella wasn’t talking to Abby and Abby had no idea why. Arabella mentioned something to me later about the girls having friendship issues due to their extreme differences in body shape. Abby is in 7th grade and is very tiny. Some of the kids were teasing her saying that she looked like a kindergartner. Arabella is in 8th grade and is on the hefty side. I can see a future of her always struggling with her weight.

It is open to debate, Abby may or may not have said something about rather being small than fat. Arabella may have found this offensive.

Abby’s mom sent me a message wanting to know why Arabella was upset with Abby. I responded that they were having a discussion about body image. Abby’s mom replied that Abby admitted to saying some not very nice things to Arabella. In response Abby’s mom said, “I can’t believe this. I’m incredibly sorry. I’m just mind blown and upset. Abby has always been so sweet and considerate and I have no idea where this came from. I sincerely apologize.”

Then Abby showed up at the door crying offering her apologies.

Wow!

Abby’s mom was very stressed out by the whole situation. To be honest, it didn’t really phase me.

Abby is the oldest child. They are going through this whole middle school yucky time for the first time. Arabella is my youngest child. We have been down this road several times before. We have received worse knocks on the door.

Abby is a good kid. I didn’t want them to get worked up too much over this. I told them that sometimes people say things they don’t mean or that they regret later. No hard feelings..

I remember my middle school days. It is a terrible time for kids. It seems like everyone has to fit into the same cookie cutter mold.

When I was in middle school, I was the smallest in my class. One day I wore my green stretch pants to school and everyone called me frog legs. I bemoaned the fact that at 13 I was still asked if I was under 10. The adults all said that someday looking young would pay off for me (it did).

Some of my friends had braces and glasses. For awhile, I wanted that too. I remember walking around the house with a gum wrapper held on my teeth by an opened up paper clip. I also wore my babysitter’s glasses and looked at myself in the mirror which she said would cause me to need glasses. Apparently, she was wrong. (Why do I remember such crazy stupid things??)

I think the middle school years are the hardest. Especially if you are really short, really heavy, have a big nose, can’t afford to wear the right clothes, or are different in any way.

Woe to the popular kids too. They have to jump through a lot of hoops to stay popular.

I am soooo happy that this will be my last year as a mother of middle schooler.

 

Snow way!

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Last week I left you with a bit of a cliffhanger…I told you that we were driving across the state in a snow storm and I haven’t been heard from since…until now, that is.

The snow storm started on Friday. It was the first big snow storm of the season. As expected, a lot of Wisconsinites forgot how to drive.

Paul went ice fishing for the first time.

Last time I talked about the weather, I was saying how warm it was in November. Then December came and it seems like the temperature dropped from 60 to 20 below just like that. A few schools in the area already had closures for the wind chills. So it has been cold. Cold enough to form a solid layer of ice on the lakes.

While Paul was out fishing, he had a bit of an accident. His ice auger rolled around in the back of the truck spilling gas all over the place. How was I going to put sleeping bags in the back of the truck for our weekend trip when opening the back of the truck made my eyes burn? We had to do some major cleaning..

Saturday morning we left in the snow storm…after Paul shoveled 6 inches of snow that fell overnight. We made the 3 hour drive across the state in 4 hours. The roads were snow covered and slippery. For most of the trip, the highway was down to one lane. We passed cars in the ditch with people inside of them. While events at home were cancelled, we made the trip across the state along with other friends to visit family for the holiday only to turn around and drive all the way back home the next day.

Then after our 3 hour (4 hour) drive to my brother Luke’s, we were faced with another 3 hour (4 hour) drive to pick up Angel from college. Thankfully my dad offered to pick up Angel from college. I have to give my dad a lot of credit here. He hasn’t always been the world’s greatest dad, but he really helped us out big time. I really appreciated his help.

The time spent at my brother’s went by really fast. We had a great time, then we were back on the road again..The ride back home was a lot easier. The roads were in better condition. The sun came out and pierced our eyes as it gleamed off of the fresh snow. The wind chills were around 20 below.

We came home to a couple more inches to shovel. It was starting to get dark. Since Paul did all of the driving, I offered to shovel. Growing old sucks, but there is something good about being a woman in my 40’s. I don’t feel cold often anymore. All my life I was the girl curled up in blankets on the hottest days of summer. Not anymore! The cold doesn’t phase me anymore. Sometimes I even feel hot when it is cold outside.

What can I say? I am 42 and hot! Ha ha.. Sometimes half of my body is cold while the other half is hot. As strange as it sounds, I sometimes am hot and cold at the same time. Hot flashes, cold sweats…So, shoveling while it was 20 below wasn’t that bad..

Anyway, not what I was planning on talking about..

It has been great with Angel home. She appreciates us so much more since she left for college. The first day home, she bought me flowers. She helped take the burden off at work and has offered to do some of the housework. She said that she feels good when she gets things accomplished during the day. That’s my girl! We spend the evenings in deep conversation.

Now that she is an adult, she has become a really good friend.

I just wanted to let you know that we made it home safe.

I hate following a blog, hearing that the said blogger is taking a trip that may or may not include danger, and then not hearing from them ever again. Seriously, are you okay?? One never knows on this sphere where some of my best friends don’t have names..

I am such a warrior! Did I just say that? Whoops! I meant worrier…Hmm..Oh well.

 

 

 

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!

 

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. 

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! 

28. My love language

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Day 28: What is your love language?

I have to say that my love language is definitely quality time followed pretty closely by acts of service. I show others that I love them in the same way. The other common love languages don’t do anything for me at all. I feel uncomfortable with encouraging words, I don’t like being touched, and I would rather buy what I want rather than get gifts..

Maybe that is why I felt so loved by my grandma. When I came over, she dropped everything that she was doing to sit down and talk with me. We often would share a cup of tea and talk about what happened while we were apart. Our time together never ended up in an argument or with her giving unsolicited advice. Sometimes we would sit in silence and work puzzles together. She would make my favorite meals and send me off with a batch of fresh cookies. She sewed doll clothes for me while I played with my doll house on the floor next to her. She was the one that painstakingly painted the little house walls and decorated it for me. She played board games with me. She stitched up my clothes that were ripped and put the buttons back on.

Growing up, my mother worked all of the time. When she wasn’t working, she was taking care of my autistic brother Matt. She didn’t have a lot of extra time for me. But she always brought me home gifts. I knew that she cared, but it wasn’t my way of receiving love.

Sometimes I wonder if part of the reason that I stayed home with my kids when they were little was to shower them with quality time. I also showered them with acts of service. I still do, but they don’t seem to want that as much anymore as teens.

Maybe my love language is also a reason why I get so upset when I make plans with friends or family and they cancel out last minute for no good reason. It makes me feel like I am not important to them.

My husband’s love language is words of encouragement. I’ll be honest, it doesn’t come naturally to me. Growing up, criticism was doled out more than kind words. The words just sound so fake coming out of my mouth. I feel so inadequate sometimes.. Paul tries to show me that he loves me by giving me quality time, but it doesn’t come naturally to him either. It always seems like it has to be a conscious effort to show love in ways that are alien to us.

It is very possible to give and receive love from people that have different languages and live a fulfilled life. But it is always wonderful to have a few people in your life that speak your language.. It really made me miss my grandma today..

21. If I could have one superpower…

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Day 21: If you could have one superpower, what would it be and what would you do with it first?

The superpower of my choice would be having the ability to control minds…Bah ha ha ha…spoken like a true introverted control freak that would love to be bossy and domineering but just nags a little instead…Hhmmm..

The first thing that I would do is force my son to wear his retainer…then after that little bit of power, I would force my kids to clean their rooms and keep them clean…after that power goes to my head, I will force them to get along and never fight…

The best thing is that I would force them to think that they thought of it themselves. It wouldn’t be like they are fighting my suggestions in their heads like they usually do…This could be sooooo perfect!

If I had mind control powers, I wouldn’t use it to force people to give me money, material goods, or even love…I wouldn’t use it to make people think I won a marathon or anything…although that would be kind of nice…I’d much rather earn it..

I would my power to create harmony, cleanliness, and order…

But if I had that kind of power, why stop there??!?

I could use it to promote world peace. Imagine living in a world where everyone got along… no more terrorism, violence, and hatred…instead there would be peace, love, and unity…

Somewhere in my head a Beatles song is playing…

Wow, okay, even I wasn’t expecting that…

Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be able to solve the world’s biggest problems? To feel like you have the power to change the world globally…To feel like you have control over making the world a better place…

That would be great, but I would be willing to settle for just having my son wear his retainer every once in awhile…

12. A typical day

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Day 12: Describe a typical day in your current life.

ATTENTION ALL INSOMNIACS!! This one is for you!

Today is a typical Monday.

I awoke a few minutes before the alarm went off after getting exactly 8 hours of sleep. I need no more or no less..

The first thing I do after visiting the bathroom is check my phone. I may have missed something important that happened in the world in the exactly 8 hours I was sleeping.

I take my Prilosec and start a load of laundry. I do exactly 2 loads of laundry every day unless I am gone or I am doing a load of towels. Towels can be a one load day.

Then I try to coax my kids out of bed for school. My alarms get louder if I think they will be late or will miss the bus.

Then I sit on the couch and drink exactly one and a half cups of coffee while trying to  have a conversation with my husband who is playing chess online. I scrounge up something to eat, then take my daily vitamins. On Monday, I floss my teeth.

I chase the kids off to school and start another load of laundry.

Then I go for a 6 mile run on the exact same route I always take. I listen to music and sometimes sing along loudly. I get mad at the idiots who almost hit me. I wave at my fans or people that follow my road rules exactly (the ones that slow down and move over). Afterwards, I take a shower. If it is nice out, I will hang my 2 loads of laundry on the line. Then I go to work.

Around lunchtime, I put the Monday chemicals in my hot tub then write a rough draft for my blog.

Then I go back to work until the work is done or I need to take my kids to after school activities. Somewhere in there, I edit my blog post and publish it.

Then I take another Prilosec exactly one half hour before eating supper. Sometimes I make supper. We always eat supper together as a family and talk about each others day. I always clean the kitchen afterwards. Then I fold my 2 loads of laundry and put them into piles for each family member. If I have some free time in the evening, I will sit in the hot tub. If my kids aren’t home, I stalk them on my phone to find out when they will be home. If they are home, I try to talk to them. Or maybe I’ll watch some favorite shows on Netflix with Paul.

Then I say my prayers and go to bed…and start things all over again the next day..

I am all for structure, schedules, and routine…but this will be the last time I bore you with all the details of a typical day…

Are you sleeping yet??

Just a stranger on a plane

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Sometimes you meet someone for a brief moment in time that influences your life. Maybe just a small thought can lead to an almost immeasurable change in life’s course which over time can lead to measurable inspiration towards positive growth. Every day life is my classroom.  

I struck a conversation with the 60 year old man next to me, just a stranger on a plane.  

I tend to seek advice from older men. Maybe because in my life good advice is so lacking. This week my dad gave me a bit of advice. I was on the phone with my mom and he had to interrupt to tell me something important. I’ll try to make it as PG-13 as I can. He said something like try to have as much sex as you can. Wow, dad, thanks for the words of wisdom! As I mentioned previously, my husband Paul doesn’t have a dad. He has a step-dad Darryl. Darryl has two grown sons, both spent a great deal of their adult life in prison. So, I’ll pass on the parenting advice…thanks anyway, Darryl.

So I seek out any words of wisdom I can find from a knowledgeable older man. I seek the lifetime accumulation of nuggets of gold. I also find that older men tend to gravitate towards me. They talk to me candidly about things I could use some wise guidance on, like parenting. Things they did right and things they learned from being wrong. 

About parenting, he said that the first ten years of your child’s life are physically exhausting. From 10 to 20 years of age, parenting is emotionally exhausting. Then from 20 to 30, parenting is financially exhausting. I thought about how true his words were. He didn’t give me a clue about what things are like after 30 though. Probably because his oldest was turning 30. By the time my kids turn 30 I probably would have forgotten anyway.

I told him how much I worry about my kids. He told me that he was glad to hear that I knew what I needed to improve upon. Hmmm, what an interesting concept.

What does worry do for me anyway? 

It shows me how little control I have.

It takes away my joy.

How is anything going to change if I worry? Do I need the solution for everything that could go wrong? Do I need to have the answer for every ‘what if’ scenario that plays out in my mind? Will that somehow magically give me peace if the worst case scenario really happens? 

I am going to try to worry less. 

It has always been a struggle for me..

Just a few thoughts from a stranger on a plane.