Adventures in Parenting

Life can be complicated. Kids can make it worse. Or better. Depending on the day.

Let’s catch up.

/ Kelly / Leave a comment

So, my last entry was a LONG time ago. And I’ve not had the time or energy to really want to sit down and write about anything, really. But I decided that my story (stories) are still worth telling and that maybe, they still might benefit someone – even if it’s just to provide a chuckle, or a moment of pause. So, let’s catch up!

I know I said this wasn’t going to be a pregnancy blog – and it still isn’t – no gory details, and no rummaging back through the past, but in order to really catch you up – I had a miscarraige (Love and Loss) at what should’ve been around 13 weeks pregnant – back in July of 2014. It was awful and we are still to this day coping with that loss. But we moved forward and kept trying to have another child. Fast forward to mid January 2015. I woke up one Saturday morning, in excruciating pain. I was doubled over, with cramping and stuff and seriously considered calling my husband to drive me to the ER. But the pain kind of came and went and I took some tylenol and headed out to show some houses to a prospective buyer. I still hurt but it wasn’t killing me. Long story short, I finally went to the doctor and turns out I was having another miscarraige. I was pretty much pissed… mainly because I hadn’t even known I was pregnant yet and thought it was stupid to even find out about it because what’s the point even?! But I was also relieved that it happened that way too. Because at least we hadn’t had time to get excited or get our hopes up about the future and everything. This was the week before our Anniversary trip that we had already planned and booked. So we went, and it was still great, but with a sort of sad little rain cloud hovering over us the whole time that we tried to ignore.

By early April, I thought I was pregnant again and took a couple of tests (bear in mind that my doctor had recommended after the first miscarraige that I get BACK ON birth control and wait a whole year before trying to get pregnant again, because the risk of future miscarraige, etc. etc. blah blah) and the pregancy tests were all negative. But I knew. I could feel it in my heart. And sure enough around early May, the test was positive! Cue the panic and fear and zillion what-if’s. But also the excitement and hope and faith that this would work out. We were all on pins and needles waiting for the 13 week mark to come and go. I know they say not to do this, but I kept taking the pregnancy test that measures hormone levels up to what should be 12 weeks thinking that if my levels were holding steady it might mean everything was okay. And they kept showing the 12 week levels. So I did find some comfort in that and it gave me a tiny bit of relief that things were still okay. Finally we went for the sonogram and there, in black and white, was a tiny white light flashing and the sweet pitter-pattering of a healthy little heart. Tears of joy and relief were finally in order! From there, the pregnancy progressed and all was well, other than some minor (depending on who you ask) health issues with me during the pregnancy, and my 13 year old breaking his leg in football and having to have two surgeries. The doctors decided to induce me on the 25th of November and after two days of craziness and still no baby, I went in for a c-section and came out with a healthy, perfect, 7 lb, 11 oz, 19 inch baby girl. It was spectacular to say the least. So now, here we are with the baby we prayed for and it’s definitely been a whirlwind of a ride. Mommy, daddy, brother and little sister. We couldn’t begin to ask for anything more wonderful. Thank you Jesus, for answered prayers.

Kaden&McKinley-Birth

Kaden&McKinley

Kaden&McKinley-Christmas

Kaden&McKinley-Trampoline

Kaden&McKinley-Chair

McKinley-3months

McKinley-Blue

Some old (but good) advice on parenting… from the most imperfect parent I know. Yours Truly.

/ Kelly / Leave a comment

I found this advice in an old email that I had sent a friend who was struggling with mommy-syndrome and all it’s joys and complications: “Something I saw in a movie one time that I always thought I’d try if I had a little girl or even another baby boy – is to have some whisper time. Rediculously cheesy, but so very sweet. Just whisper talking to them and in your case, your daughter whispers to you… Nothing specific, just where you talk to each other in whispers, holding hands, really close to them. Like you are the only two people in the world. I always picture this taking place in a little blanket fort in the living room but whatever and wherever. Life is so chaotic as it is, and we are all so caught up in the daily routine of what NEEDS to be done that we lose sight of what we are doing it all for. If you think about it, nothing in this world would matter one bit if we lost our kids. Or our husbands. But especially our kids. They are literally, our flesh and blood. Our heart, living outside of our bodies. Nothing is more precious or valuable than that. I seriously came to the realization one day when I was all rushed and running late and yelling at Kaden that – NO. You know what?! I am NOT going to be this person. If I’m late to work. So be it. SO. BE. IT. Kaden being late to school is not the end of the world. And me getting to work late is especially not the end of the world. Hell, they’re lucky most days to even have me show up! But what WOULD be the end of the world, is if those angry, hurried moments were (GOD FORBID!) my last moments with my little boy. THAT. That, would be tragic. SO I said f*** it. For real. I try to be on time. Usually I am. Sometimes I’m not. And nothing earth shattering has come of it.”
It’s been several years since I wrote this advice to her, and it still seems like decent advice. So if any of you need a reminder, like I certainly do, there you go.

Love and Loss

/ Kelly / Leave a comment

My last post was almost a month ago… Yet it seems like ages away. My husband and I had been trying to get pregnant for just over a year when we got the news that we were expecting. When I first read the little lines on the test, and the other five tests I took in the next 24 hours… I was terrified. It wasn’t pure fear, but rather fear mixed with excitement at the notion of a baby, joy in realizing our hopes and prayers were answered, relief that we could actually concieve, and the scary realization that in several months I would be in a labor and delivery room. We’re having a baby!

Having a baby isn’t all roses and candy. It’s scary stuff! And knowing what was coming, scared me. I’m not a spring chicken anymore. Layers of “fluff” now appear where I used to have muscle, stretch marks already line my soft belly, and evidence of too much junk food is obvious. I immediately regretted not starting that pre-pregnancy diet I had intended to start. But I was glad that I had found an explanation for why I had been feeling so exhausted and hungry lately. I was pregnant! We were having a baby!!

The next few weeks flew by and we celebrated with family and praised God for the gift of life and wondered and imagined about all the things this new baby would bring to our little world. My son was cautiously joyful at the thought of being a big brother. My husband was elated at being a new daddy to his first baby-baby. And everything was wonderful.

Until we went for our sonogram last Monday.  The appointment took twice as long as it should have. We were left in the sonogram room for about 45 minutes after the first attempt at finding a heartbeat and being told they needed to speak with the doctor. Then when the doctor, and another doctor, and two nurses came back in, they searched my womb while talking among themselves, not trying to explain what was happening. It was awful. After several minutes I asked point blank what was going on. The head doctor finally addressed me and explained that they were unable to find a heartbeat. He went on to say that either I was not nearly as far along as they had thought initially, or that the baby had stopped developing at some point and that “it just wasn’t a viable fetus”. Those are hard words to process. Viable fetus. It was our baby. Our love and pride and hopes and future. How did this happen? What was going on? How did we arrive at this place? In an hours time we had gone from giggling in the waiting room, wondering what our little baby would look like to… this? No clear answer, no guidance, just a million questions.

We left the facility in complete shock and confusion and despair. I cried, my husband consoled. I ran through the scenario a million times in my head on the way home, trying to figure out what was really happening. I contacted my local doctor and was advised that they needed to do some hormone tests to find out where we were with the pregnancy.  After the first round, they told me I was in the range of 0 to 6 weeks pregnancy hormone levels, which is about 4 to 6 weeks less than where they thought I was. They told me the next round would tell us whether the pregnancy was still progressing and I just wasn’t as far along as they initially calculated, or if the pregnancy was failing. We were given hope. A glimmer of salvation from the worst case scenario. And we waited.

Friday, I called the doctors office several times with no answer,  or was told they would call back. Finally, around 4:00 the nurse called and said they had my results but couldn’t read them to me without the doctor having signed off on them first, and he’d left for the day already. It would be Monday before we got any news. That would’ve been today. Friday night, the cramping and spotting began. I tried to ignore it and pretend it wasn’t what I was afraid it was. But by Saturday afternoon the pain was so much worse.

The only way to describe it was labor pain. It radiated and worsened and then would let up for a minute or so and then come again. The rest, you can imagine. It was soul crushing. I felt exhausted, cheated, and robbed, desperate for answers. Empty. I cried and cried. Then finally I slept. When I woke up,  there was a void where there had been joy. But it was over. And I was thankful for that at least.

We know that there are things in this world that we will never fully understand, and we know all things happen for a reason. God is in control of this situation and I trust fully in His wisdom and in His timing and plans for us. We will keep our heads above water by looking to Him and by petition and prayer, with Thanksgiving we will continue to make our hearts desires known to Him. Since sharing my story over the past week with other women, I have heard so many stories similar to my own and just last night I was comforted in a dream about our baby that now resides with the Lord in Heaven, patiently waiting for our reunion. God places people in our lives at just the right times and it is helpful to know that we are not alone in this pain and loss. I am grateful that the miscarraige happened so early in the pregnancy,  because I know it could have been so much worse. I can’t imagine the pain and loss of a stillbirth or late term miscarraige.  But I’m certain that it has to be nearly unbearable. I am so blessed to have an amazing family and friends,  a support group that is pulling me through this. And especially for a wonderful husband that loves and comforts me as much as I need. I hope my story will help another family someday and that to them also, God will bring a sense of peace and calm that I am experiencing as the days pass. Because really and truly, God is good. All the time.

Everything Changes

/ Kelly / 1 Comment

Well… It’s been a while since my last post and there has been some exciting changes come about. I had been feeling very tired the past few weeks. And even worse than being tired, I was super unmotivated. I was afraid I had just lost my marbles and wasn’t adjusting well to all the recent down time. Come to find out, I’m just pregnant! I took five different tests,  all positive. Took me awhile to grasp the idea that this was really happening. But it is very exciting.

We had actually been trying for about a year, so this was not unplanned, but it was a bit unexpected. I say that because I had sort of come to the conclusion that it just wasn’t in the cards for us to have another child. But  apparently it is! It’s been really emotional for me, and nerve wracking, since I am much more acutely aware of all the things that could possibly go wrong now than I was with my first child. Plus I’m much older and not in nearly as good of shape as I was the first time around either!

My husband is really excited, as this will be his second child, but first baby! For those of you who don’t know (and I haven’t quite gotten that far into my installment series, My Crazy Stupendous Life yet), my husband recently adopted my son. He is an amazing dad and I can’t wait to share this experience with him. My son is also very excited. He had his initial reservations about the whole “baby” thing. He worried where he would fit into this equation and how his role as the only child would change, both very normal and valid concerns.  I assured him that this was a good thing and that he will still be my sweetheart and that we are all in this together. He is feeling much better about it and is already being a great big brother, even though I’ve told him a million times the baby is just a tiny little pea in a pod right now.

I don’t know exactly how far along I am yet, but I imagine it should be somewhere around five or six weeks, so still very early. I have an appointment on Friday for all the blood work and family history stuff and then will meet with my doctor soon afterwards.  Hopefully they will give me a clear due date so we can start planning. I know we are not out of the woods yet, but it is wonderful to think that this is really happening.

I will keep you posted on my progress,  but I don’t plan on turning this into a pregnancy journal. There are plenty of other places to see that sort of content. Until next time…

Opportunity Knocks.

/ Kelly / Leave a comment

So as you may already know, I am just a little over two months into my return to a career in selling real estate. Things started out fast, with me getting four listings in about the first week. Then I ended up getting a contract on a property that wasn’t even listed with an extended closing date and have been working with a few buyers. But no money yet. Which is frustrating. But it’s how this all works. The market here is pretty steady so that’s comforting. And once you get a successful closing, you get paid. And closings generally take about 30 days from date of contract. If you’re lucky. It’s all sort of complicated and scary and frustrating. And at first I had some serious adjustment issues with having so much free time on my hands after working an 8-5 for the past six years. But I’ve kind of grown to enjoy the scheduling freedom. I can water the grass in the morning. I don’t have to rush to be at the office at 8 a.m. I can pick up my kid from school and plan dinner on most nights. It’s the little things that have become the big things to me now. And I didn’t realize how much I have been enjoying the little stuff until this past Friday…

I have this friend who is in “media”. (I don’t really want to say exactly who or what for the time being. Mainly because there’s still some stuff up in the air.) She is one of my newer friends since we just met a few years ago through an organization I became involved with, and only last year did I really get to know her outside of the organization we both work with, by joining a civic club that she participates in. Anyway, she’s absolutely great. She’s laid back, smart, a go-getter, a multi-tasker, driven, and completely hilarious. All qualities that I sort of have in common with her. We are like peas in a really fun pod. And this past Friday she asked if I could talk a little bit once our meeting was over. So we sat down together and she basically offered me a job. It is very flattering that she feels I would be perfect for the position and that she thinks it would work into a pretty lucrative and exciting career in “media”. But all of the sudden I found myself feeling very afraid.

Not afraid of the job itself, but afraid of the commitment that it would entail. I have grown to really enjoy my down time over the past 60 days or so, and I don’t really know how the scheduling would work with trying to balance two full time jobs would be – even if they are both “flexible schedules”. I don’t want to give up on real estate by any means, and I don’t want another job taking away from what I’m able to do with the real estate stuff. I’m pretty good with prioritizing my responsibilities and I’m sure I could swing it, but at what cost? Would it be at the cost of my lazy mornings spent watering plants and grass and planning my to-do list, or my after-school time with my soon-t0-be no-longer-little son? I have to admit, the money part of the proposition sounds really nice. I see our bank account dwindling a little bit, day-by-day and it really has me kind of freaked out. But I know that the money will come with the real estate stuff. All in due time… And the hubby makes plenty of money to cover the bills and necessities, but I know it has to be on his mind too.

I don’t like living paycheck to paycheck. I did that for the past two decades, almost. Don’t get me wrong, it’s much better than being in debt up to your eyeballs or unable to make ends meet on your own (I lived both of those scenarios, too.). But there’s more to life than money. The prospect of having good benefits again, and a steady paycheck are very appealing but I guess I am just going to have to figure out all the details on what my schedule would really be. In my mind, the situation boils down to Money vs. Time. And I know that time is much more valuable than money. And that money can make your time spent a lot easier. So what’s the bigger payout? Do I choose money and relinquish some (or very possibly MOST) of my free time with my family? Or do I hold on to my free time at the expense of our bank accounts? Which is more selfish and self-serving? It’s a hard call. I haven’t even gotten all the details on the job yet and I’m already stressing out. But at the same time, this could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to have a career that would be as financially rewarding as it is FUN! Just when I thought I had things all figured out, I get thrown a curveball. Absolutely par for the course. So what’s a girl to do??? To Be Continued…

My Crazy-Stupendous Story – Part 2

/ Kelly / Leave a comment

So my first real crush and I set up a date the week before Valentine’s Day. He lived in a larger town about 45 minutes from me (whereas I was living in a town of just over 900 people with nothing to do) so I drove there to meet up with him for the date. We decided on dinner at a cozy little steak house and then a few games of pool at a popular sports bar. Dinner was great, the conversation was easy. We talked, we laughed, and we talked some more and then I totally schooled him at pool! (Ok, my rendition may be a little different than his, but I’m the storyteller here so we are just going to run with it.) As the night ended we held hands on the way back to the car and drove back to his place. (Stop. At this point I should probably insert a little additional history… Not everyone knows this but my BFF has an older sister that is my husbands age and who kept in touch with him after high school, so around the time I was about 18 or so we were partying in the same circles with him and my friends older sister… And there was a fast and furious romantic encounter that is still a little fuzzy for both of us but occurred, none the less. ((Yes, yes. I’m aware that this only further illustrates a lack of “appropriate” behavior on my part and that I was obviously the “wild” one in the group. Dually noted.)) Anyway, I was always smitten with him and we had this lingering bit of a spark already…

So we went in, sat on his couch for about ten minutes with his little dog that was growling and snarling at me the entire time… Super romantic, right? Actually it was really awkward/scary/frustrating/bizarre/annoying. And I remember thinking that this was the weirdest end to a date that I’d ever had. Hmmm, second thought, probably not. But this was NOT the end I had hoped for. So I decide it’s time to go since I still had a 45 minute drive home, and he walked me out to my car and I opened the drivers side door, leaned in to put my purse in the passenger seat while simultaneously rolling my eyes in utter disappointment that there wasn’t even a hint of a goodnight/goodbye smooch on the horizon, and BAM! As I turned around he snatched me up against him and laid it on me! It was the most amazing kiss I think I’ve ever had. I was in heaven. And he was in serious danger! I tell him now that he has no idea how close he came to being taken advantage of that night. For real. And then we said goodbye and I got in the car and drove away, never to return again. Not really. But I did go home. And the whole way I had a smile plastered on my face so big that I felt like a crazy person.

Over the next few weeks we talked on the phone, planned a couple of more dates that never actually happened, and then eventually it just plain fizzled out. He basically told me one day that he thought we should just call it good and leave it at that. He justified it with, “his new promotion, so busy at work, too far away, not fair to you, blah blah blah.” And I totally didn’t buy into that crap. (See, I am super stubborn and strong-willed and I feel like if you want something, you make it happen. And to me he was just being an absolute weenie-head.) So I left him alone. He didn’t call or text me anymore and that was it. I decided that he was a complete flake-ball and that I was glad I had found out so soon into the relationship instead of later on down the line after I had invested a lot of time and energy and emotion into it. And I figured there was some other girl where he lived, or that he didn’t like our kiss as much as I did, or that he just wasn’t attracted to me after all. You know, the normal stuff women think when a guy flakes out – because women are relationship-doomsday-preppers, always anticipating the very worst and mentally building ourselves up for these kinds of situations so that they don’t take us by surprise and completely crush us when they happen. And I moved on with my life.

Just before the one date I actually had with flaky, I had started going to these volunteer organization meetings (because I am also a “yes” kind of person and have a hard time turning down opportunities to help. Ugh.) Anyway, the meetings were interesting and there was a lot of really nice, good people there and it gave my son access to some great role models, and it was a safe place for us to hang out, free from any drama. I met some new people, got to know some people I already knew a little better, and they really seemed to appreciate us being involved. It was fun, too. My son was having a blast helping out and the group made him feel really welcome and integral to what they were doing, so it was good for him too. So we kept going. Plus it made it way easier to forget about flake-ball. There was this one guy there, that my son had really grown kind of attached to, and it was reciprocated by the man. He knew that my kids dad was not in the picture, other than to cause as much chaos and scary, unwanted ridiculousness in our lives as humanly possible, and I think that was probably a factor too, but he just stepped right into a mentor role with my son. I thought it was great and kind of sweet until my son called the man ‘dad’ one day. And I totally freaked out. But the guy didn’t freak out and he just rolled with it like nothing. He had two older boys that were just grown and so he wasn’t shocked or upset or weirded out like I was. And after awhile we started hanging out outside of the volunteer group.

It became a sort of “dating-by-default” kind of situation. It was very easy, very simple, very low pressure, very safe. And I was great with that. The man was good as gold to my son and we really did become great friends. We respected each other, we had fun together, and everything was a three person adventure. We went and did stuff all together, we even took a “family” trip… It was good. It was also kind of …. Hmmmm. It was almost like he was dating US. Which sounds nice for a single mom and a young boy that wanted a father figure. But it wasn’t really a relationship like I normally think of when you say ‘love’. He loved my kid, and my kid loved him. And we really liked, admired, and respected each other. We had a great time together. But it was more a relationship of ease. It was easy. And I kind of liked it that way. There was absolutely no hidden agenda, no unspoken expectation or obligations, no miscommunication, no drama. It was nice. And then, all of a sudden it got really complicated.

One day, out go the blue -nine months later- I get a call from Mr. Flaky asking what’s been going on. OH, REALLLLLLLY???!!!….. I can’t even begin to tell you how surprised and kind of pissed off it made me. So I politely tell him, upfront so that there was no confusion there, that I was seeing someone else and that technically I was ‘unavailable’ – and I asked what his intentions were? He asked if it was serious? I told him not really, but that if I was seeing him, I would offer the other guy the same courtesy of being upfront about the situation. And then he proceeded to tell me that I had to break up with the guy. Excuse me?!?! Who. The. Hell. Do. You. Think. You. Are. (Mouth agape.) I was flabbergasted. I explained that he was being rediculous, and that it had been nine months, NINE. MONTHS., since I’d heard so much as a peep from him, and that he was a total flake and that there was absolutely no way that I was going to dump this really nice guy that had done nothing wrong and who I was completely happy with, for a flake-ball. He then described how he planned to marry me and I fell down on the floor in a fit of laughter. Not really. But I kind of wanted to. Because he was a total jerk and I was head over heels for him and I was not about to just let him just waltz back into my life and break my heart all over again. But I didn’t tell him that. Because that would be dumb. So instead, I told him not to call me again and we hung up. End scene.

Over the next few weeks me and Mr. Easy still hung out and I told him about the weirdo that I had one date with that wanted to marry me after a nine month hiatus from the face of the earth, and we laughed about it because “oh my gosh, he is obviously out of his gourd crazy!!” And flaky would call or text and I wouldn’t answer or respond and I just kept trying to not react and to just let it fizzle out for him again like it eventually would. But it didn’t. He kept calling, and he kept texting. And I kept ignoring him and telling him to stop being a stalker. And in the middle of all this I was dealing with some major drama (like my sons sperm donor getting shot – yes, SHOT – during a burglary). (See, I warned you that I have had some wild and crazy life experiences. You’re starting to believe me now, aren’t you?) But he just kept on being super in love with me. So just before Thanksgiving, I’m sitting in my living room with my son and Mr. Easy, and I realize that I really REALLY wished it was flake-ball there with us instead. And I felt awful. I felt like I was being an idiot and that flaky would never work out and he really was a raving lunatic and that I was just as ridiculous for playing into his game. I pushed past the thoughts and tried not to let my mind wander anymore. But it was hopeless. I eventually broke down to my mom, telling her how I was feeling and she said, “Forget about Flake-Ball and just move on!” Not really. She actually told me some really wise, sage-wisdom kind of stuff about what the heart wants and God’s will for our lives and fate and second chances and having to see for myself what was going to happen. She’s very smart.

So the next time flaky called, on Thanksgiving Day, I gave him every reason I could possibly think of as to why a relationship between us would never in a million years actually work out, including the fact that he had never even met my son (which is a really big one!), who I affectionately refer to as ‘The Warden’, because he’s super stingy and protective of me especially around men, because “You are NOT dating my mom, regardless of who you are or what your actual purpose of having any sort of contact with her might be.” And flaky told me how he would make it work and that he’d been praying about it and he just knew that I was supposed to be his wife. So I told him that I would pray about it too. And I did. But first I called Mr. Easy and told him that the wacko guy that wanted to marry me might not be so wacko after all and that I really felt like I might have some unfinished business with him. And he understood and agreed to step out of the picture. It was really scary. Terrifying, actually. But I had to find out for myself what was going to happen. So I told flaky that task #1 was for him to come to my house, the very next day, and meet The Warden. Because that was going to either make or break him. And guess what? He agreed to come. To Be Continued.

Moving On.

/ Kelly / Leave a comment

So I took my own advice. I stopped being a whiner and started doing what I wanted to do. That first day I actually went for a walk (and very briefly contemplated calling someone to come pick me up once I got about halfway), took a nap and even baked some cupcakes. It was ridiculously productive!

In the meantime, my business has started really picking up. I’ve got new clients and a few referrals just through random meetings with old friends. The real estate world is settling back into my mindset and it’s a great feeling. I am trying to embrace my new found freedom and use my downtime in ways that help me be a better mom and wife. I am finding that picking my kiddo up from school is awesome and being able to consider what’s for dinner before 5:00 fits nicely with my new schedule. I could totally be a stay at home mom!

Although I would be a crazy mom with either a hospital clean house or a total disaster house. Not sure which, but there would definitely be some issues. I keep picturing the scenes from the movie, Mr. Mom when the baby eats the chili and the kids are filthy and disheveled. Of course I only have one kid, but same kind of scenario… And the soap operas. Yeah, I should probably try to keep working for now, and I feel certain that my kid would agree. Not because I wouldn’t be an amazing stay at home mom, because I would be spectacular! Just because I might accidentally make him even more crazy than I already do. And because I think stay at home moms are supposed to be more organized or something than I am. I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong? Regardless, I think I’m just going to split the difference and continue to try and settle into my new, less-busy lifestyle. I’ll let you know how things progress. For now, I’m just trying to relax and remember to enjoy the ride. Cheers!

20 Things I Know To Be True

/ Kelly / Leave a comment

1. People treat you exactly how you let them.
2. A child will always say the thing out loud that you really hope they won’t.
3. Dog hair gets a little easier to live with once you become a dog person.
4. Being in love takes two people.
5. Good people do stupid things too.
6. Sometimes cats run away and never come back.
7. It really does take a village to raise a kid.
8. Money is not the solution to all your problems.
9. When you think nobody is looking and you do a good deed, someone always sees it.
10. Elderly people are one of the biggest treasures in this life.
11. Hurting others won’t make you feel better in the long run.
12. Marriage isn’t always forever, but it should be.
13. Animals are usually very good judges of a persons character.
14. Laughter can’t heal a broken heart, but it helps.
15. True friends are few and far between.
16. A tiny hand clasped around your finger can bring down all of your walls.
17. A good husband is worth more than all the gold in California.
18. The simplest act of kindness can have a profound effect on someone.
19. Fairy tales sometimes come true when you least expect them to.
20. God loves me, even when I am unloveable.

My Crazy-Stupendous Story – Part 1

/ Kelly / Leave a comment

Things are finally turning around for us, and it feels amazing. While I try to always be upbeat and optimistic there have been some parts of my life that weren’t all roses and candy. First off, I have a son. He is a wonderful kid – well rounded and healthy – smart, funny, happy, imaginative (all qualities he gets from me) as well as moody, smart-mouthed, temperamental, impatient (again, from me). Anyway, he’s mine and I wouldn’t change a single thing about him. I love him with every ounce of my being.

Having a child changes a person in a way that can’t easily be put into words. I know everyone says that. But I was a very self-centered person before he came along. Then all of a sudden I was second. My needs were put aside for the sake of his. My goals and ambitions became secondary to this tiny persons needs. Throw in a “guilt-marriage”, some drug use/abuse, two completely polar opposite families and value systems, and two step-kids and well, let’s just say you have one royal disaster on your hands. While the relationship he was born of deteriorated in the worst way, my love for my son was untouched. As a matter of fact it was strengthened by my commitment to protect, nurture and successfully raise him on my own. That’s a very hard thing to do, by the way. Every decision makes a million more things either possible, or impossible. And the extraordinarily bad situation surrounding me and the father’s split made things even more frightening and complicated. Luckily I had a great group of friends and a strong support network in my family, so that while things were tough, they were manageable.

During the first year of separation from his father, I found myself in an equally unhealthy rebound relationship. I thought surely some drinking issues would be easier to handle than a drug problem. Turned out it was a whole other kind of misery. Husband #2 was very financially stable, book smart, independent, and confident. At first. Things have a way of going downhill in a hurry, apparently. The alcohol made him super insecure and confrontational. Accusations and control became the primary players in our daily routine. One step forward was always accompanied by three steps backwards. It was a totally different set of circumstances, but equally dysfunctional.

And then there’s my son. Watching from his front row seat. Seeing and hearing all the drama. Too young to understand the complications of life but old enough to know things weren’t right. There wasn’t much ‘happy’ that happened when the three of us were together. Those happy times were reserved for when it was just me and my son. On the days we would spend away after HE had stayed out all night or we’d had a big blowout about something. Me and my little guy would escape by ourselves. Sometimes it was just for an afternoon, sometimes it was an impromptu stay in a nice hotel, or a surprise trip out of town to spend a weekend with family or friends. We would recharge, rest, and then as always – the trip would have to come to an end and we would head home. The reception was always one of apologies and promises to change, and it’s hard situation to be in. You want peace, stability, normalcy. And it’s as simple as a single choice. But that was always the problem – it wasn’t our choice to make. It was his.

Then one day my son asked me, point-blank, “Why are we still here with him?” So we left. For good. And we didn’t go back this time. I could go on for days about how God literally opened doors for us to make our escape, from the house we rented to the daycare situation and all the little crazy details in between. But that’s for another set of posts. Basically, the doors were swung wide open for us to be on our own, and not just ‘okay’. We were great. We were happy, and had everything we needed physically, financially even. I wasn’t wealthy but we had plenty. Both of our needs were met and with a little (okay, a lot) of help from my parents my son was able to have most of his wants met too. Things were wonderful. But something was missing. It wasn’t obvious to those around us in a way that stood out to onlookers or even those who knew us in a more personal way. But in the quiet moments of our life, during bedtime prayers and the little whispered conversations while I kneeled at my sons bedside for our more serious talks – the ones filled with hopes and wishes and things that we didn’t say to anyone else, it was painfully obvious.

My little boy wanted a dad. He wanted a dad in a way that most kids never experience. He didn’t want the dad that he knew was his biological father, or the man he knew as his step-dad either. This was a deeper want. He wanted someone good, and kind, and honest. Someone who wasn’t like his other dads. Oh, it wasn’t that I wasn’t enough or that things weren’t good the way they were, he’d explain. But he just didn’t understand why things were the way they were. Why wasn’t his dad good? Why couldn’t, or worse – why wouldn’t his step-dad be what he needed him to be? Why did his friends not have those kind of dads? Most of the time the only thing I could think of was that it was because of me. It was my bad choices that put him in those situations. My lack of forethought. My poor judgement of character. My sins that had lead us to this place. And there was no amount of penance I could pay to change any of it. He would cry. We would pray for God to send us someone to fill that broken place in our life. Then I would tuck him in, kiss his face, and head off to bed to cry and pray some more.

Super Bowl Sunday about a year after my second divorce, me and my son were watching the football game at my parents house. I had only recently joined facebook at the prompting of my best friend and after years of futile resistance, and I had a message. It wasn’t a message from one of my friends though. It was a message from a guy that I knew from back in school. And not just any guy, either. This guy had been my first and biggest, real crush. I say real crush because I had other crushes back then. Cute guys, boyfriends even. But nothing serious. But this guy… He was my first REAL crush. Hardcore, couldn’t stop staring, not even blushing anymore, from the pit of my stomach, in love – crush. My 13 year old selfs dream guy. Out of the clear blue sky.

He asked how I had been doing. We chatted for awhile. And eventually we set up a date. It was super weird. First, that he would blow off the Super Bowl game to chat online with me. Second, that I hadn’t seen or heard from him in about fifteen years. Third, that it was my 13 year old selfs dream guy! What are the odds, right?? To be continued……..

Kids mouth = No filter.

/ Kelly / Leave a comment

So the other day, we were at a basketball game and my son’s team was getting the crud kicked out of them by another team with this one kid that was about a whole 7 inches taller than any of the other kids. He was good. But the team he was on was piling up the fouls faster than you could count them. Our kids didn’t really have a chance. The game was good and our kids held their own as much as they could until the final buzzer. It was such a fast paced game that I didn’t even keep up with the score. I was just glad it was over.

So we walk across the court to where the team is waiting – since the bleachers are on one side and the kids and coaches are on the other side of the gym. The coach is telling the kids how proud she was that they played a clean game and that even though they lost on the scoreboard, they were still winners. Great talk, coach. Anyway, after her little post-pep talk she looked at me and said that she needed to talk to me. Immediately I started running through all the possible things that my kid might have said/done to cause this special “talk” time. And as a parent, you can always tell when your kids have gotten you into this kind of predicament. It’s usually a combination of embarrassment, frustration and completely being over it all at the same time. With my kid, these talks seem to be pretty regular, since he says things that he has given absolutely NO thought at all to.

I mosey over to the side with the coach and she tells me that my son had said something that really upset her and that she felt like she had to confront me with it. (Oh no. Here it comes. I can only imagine at this point what he might have said. But nothing that I was imagining even came close to the level of stupidity of what she was about to tell me.)

COACH: He told me that his whole family is racist…….. ((Uhhhhh, come again??!) and this is his coach who has three mixed race children. Great.)

ME: …….crickets……(Standing there with my eyes popping out and my jaw on the floor, hoping she’s about to tell me that she’s just kidding and that my son is really a great kid.)

COACH: Yeah, when so and so (the tall, exceptionally athletic black kid) fouled so and so, he said “See, that’s why my family is all racist.” (At this point I am beyond embarrassed. And pissed. If there had been a hole, I totally would have crawled into it and died.)

ME: Oh, my gosh. I am so sorry. I don’t know why he would have said that, but I will definitely have a talk with him. (By this time my son has come over to see what was going on. So I tried to communicate my dissatisfaction by glaring at him in that “you are totally about to get it” kind of way that mothers learn to perfect as their children get older.)

She accepted my apology and we said goodbye and headed out to our vehicles. My husband had overheard the conversation and my son knew he was in deep doo-doo. So as soon as we are safely inside the vehicle away from prying ears, I lay into him with all the “What the heck is wrong with you?!””Are you frigging kidding me?!”, “That was one of the dumbest things you have ever said!”, and “If you are going to say something that stupid, don’t drag the whole family into it!” and all other parenting “advice” that I can muster. (See, this is exactly why some species eat their young.) Once he realized what the word RACIST meant, he was completely embarrassed. And remorseful. Apparently he thought it meant that you only like “certain people of other races”. Not exactly. I told him how hurtful what he had said was to everyone and reminded him of how many friends – and family members – we have of other races and that that kind of thinking is completely out of line. I went on to explain all the awful things that racism causes and how he is never ever EVER to say something that ignorant again. Hopefully that will be the last conversation we ever have to have about the issue. But probably not. He’s a kid. And kids have no filter – even when they don’t know exactly what they’re saying.