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.
parenting
Everything Changes
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…
Some people are sad.
So I have had some recent drama-ish situations lately. Mostly having to do with family and personal issues. And it makes me sad. And upset. And angry even. But mostly sad. Because people act like they don’t know they are being selfish or uncaring or two-faced or just plain mean. And that is sad. Those people are SAD. I will tell you about them now. Not to continue the drama, but in the hopes that one of two things will happen: (1.) If you are one of these people, maybe you will learn to see things from another point of view. (2.) If you’re dealing with one of these people, maybe you will get some relief in knowing you are not alone.
Issue #1: Drama Mama. And the resulting rediculousness.
My son has been playing baseball for the past 8 years. T-ball, little league, minor league and now majors. We’ve dealt with crummy coaches, horrible parents, bullying, shut-outs, you name it. He loves baseball. Most of the time. He has his moments of laziness and frustration but for the most part he really enjoys it.
Well, this year he ended up on a team made up almost solely of kids from a rival school. And it was difficult, to say the least. He literally had one real friend on the team – a home schooled kid that he’d played for several years with. Of course, my kid sat the bench most games because he wasn’t one of the coaches “boys”. Which is another issue, completely. But it did wear on me that he wasn’t even given a fair shake. The biggest issue was with the bullying and trash talking. And worse, the lack of anything being said or done about it by the coaches. It was bad.
To make matters worse, the middle of the season, his coach pits him against his one friend on the team and made some poor decisions that ended up causing a rift between the two. The other kids mom ended up calling me and telling me the kid was quitting the team. She went on to say how she felt the whole situation was wrong and we needed to take a stand for our kids and not let them be treated so poorly. She practically begged us to join them in standing up for what was right. And we were on board, because if we weren’t then my kid would’ve been all by himself against a team of bullies. So my kid decided to quit the team too, with some encouragement from myself. So we just called it a loss. We’d try again next season. The End.
Except that it wasnt. A few days later I get a message from another parent who knew what had happened, asking if my kid had went back to the team. Of course, he hadn’t. But someone had. Hmmm. I thought surely that was a mistake, so I asked the other parent about her kid. She beat around the bush and then finally admitted that he had gone back to playing. Now, understand me, it was her pleas that got us to quit. And her endless phone calls and texts a few days before that convinced me that we were doing the right thing. So, what happened? I felt betrayed. Short-changed. Used. Manipulated. Lied to. She asked us to take a stand and then she backs down without even so much as a phone call? I heard it from some other parent with a kid on a different team. Who does that? So now my kid is off the team, and her kid is playing again. Really!? That night when I told my kid that his buddy had gone back to the team he said, “Oh really? That’s funny. Wasn’t his mom the one blowing your phone up about how WE had to stand our ground and that kids can’t be jerked around like that?” I’m so glad he can read between the lines like his momma. Apple & Tree. And as for that other mom… sad. Sad that she was so easily swayed and unable to stand firm in her convictions as a parent, and sad that she doesn’t even realize the impact of her actions.
Issue #2: Faux Family Friend. And why I’m completely over it.
So I had lunch with a friend today, and she proceeded to tell me all about a guy that is supposed to be my dad’s friend. My dad got hurt at work a few months ago and has been working at getting his health issues sorted out. Anyway, this guy goes to great lengths to come by and check on my dad, to call and check on him, encourage him, etc. Once upon a time he was my brothers very best friend. He worked for my dad for several years. He worked with my dad for several months before my dad’s injury. He is supposed to be a friend.
Well, at lunch today, there was a completely different story. I learned a long time ago not to put too much weight or faith in this guy. And I heard again about how he talks about my family, including my dad and his injuries, behind our backs. It was sickening. And to make matters worse, he only spreads his drama and lies to the people who will listen and who want to hear it. Which says something pretty specific about his audience. It’s like a negativity-mill. He churns out whatever it is that everybody wants to hear. Each group of people get a different spin and a tailor-made yarn. He’s like the male version of an attention seeking drama queen.
I’ve tried to talk to my family about what a snake in the grass he really is, and I hope they realize it sooner than later. But it’s hard to believe something bad about somebody that you’ve put your trust into. Like I told my mom today, I would love to just rip him a new one and tell him exactly what I think of him and call him out on his lies and two-faced antics. But I have learned that it’s not my place, nor my responsibility to confront someone about their actions. Because God takes care of all that for you. He rights the wrongs and redeems the opressed. And it’s only a matter of time. So I’m letting it go. Don’t get me wrong, if I run into him, he’s liable to get way more than he bargained for, because I don’t have it in me to just pretend like I don’t know what’s really going on. But I refuse to seek him out just to speak my mind. Because that would require me expending my time and energy on him. And he’s worth neither. He’s just sad.
20 Things I Know To Be True
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
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.
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.
Life Is All About Laughter 