Current mood: uncomfortable
Wish I could, and this is going to be one of those times when cogent typing falls by the wayside and pure emotion spills out all over. I could write about the ills of our economy or the fact that my checking account looks ever-sicker each month of this separation or more on cancer or more on my wacky family or the fact that I turned down a dog which needs a home out of respect for my family's needs (totally against my usual response to dogs needing homes), but no. I revert to being the mother of a kid in high school.
I think most of the time that Travis and I have done a relatively good job on the kids. Nolan's had his rough spots, but as he matures, I see the issues shrinking and fading. He sometimes struggles for his successes, but they do come and we appreciate his efforts. We tell him, as we tell his sister, that we are proud of them. We tell them that we love them unconditionally, and in Nolan's case, it was important for him to be told that no matter what, he could never make us un-love him. I think he gets that now. Praise the superior being of your choice (A. The Lord. B. Allah. C. Buddah. D. Hale-Bop. E. ________________).
Conversely, it is important to us as parents to make sure that when warranted, we tell our children we are disappointed in their actions. Not in them, rather, in what they do. My child is not disappointing, but the fact that her sports bras are all missing disappoints me to no end. My child is not disappointing, but the continual disappearance of his socks due to his not picking them up from the floor disappoints me and makes me break out in hives a little. You see? I hate having those conversations. They suck. They make me feel like doody. Before. During. After. Just. Plain. Doody. ***BUT*** I see a huge decline in the number of people who were raised with a sense of what is and is not disappointing to their parental unit(s). I guess that's what the ol' folks used to call, "Shame on you!" I, personally, don't think a little shame ever killed someone. If you do, stop reading because this is my blog and I'll say what I want. The way we learn that shame sucks is to feel shame for an action and learn from it how to avoid shamefulness. Or disappointment, or whatever prettier word you want to give it.
My kid is in high school now. Yes, high school. Hold on, gotta dab the corners of my eyes. Ahem, where was I, ah, high school.
This is a whole new world. I thought I might have some type of advantage here, being one of the younger moms of a high schooler. I am 35, dude. I graduated high school just 18 years ago. Dude, I thought I was young until my kid went to high school in El Paso. I think the median age for mothers of new Freshman has got to be somewhere around 30? Maybe 28? Not kidding. I guess I am old. Dude, that blows. Oh Menopause, is that you creeping through the shadows of my room?
Remember, if you will, to date we have dealt with bisexuality, homosexuality, teen pregnancy (more than one acquaintance of La Princessa is currently expecting), homelessness ('nuther story for 'nuther time), mental illness, promiscuity, all within four weeks, and now this- read on.
So, last night I went into Amanda's room around 10-ish. I wanted to talk to her. I wasn't trying to catch her in the act of anything, but that's usually how it happens. Regardless of the good decisions/bad decisions discussions, regardless of the consequences for our actions discussions, regardless of the presence of very cut and dried rules in our home, she still leans. She was leaning. She actually was texting after 9 pm. I can deal with the texting. I have learned to cope without the help of such agencies as Text-annon. My two requirements- no texting/calling during school and no texting/calling after 9 pm. Fair enough? Yeah, but occasionally when the mood strikes her, she simply must text. Last night she was texting with two people.
One is a friend from an activity and one (who shall remain as annonymous as possible because that person is a minor- I'll call them LL) is someone with whom my Precious Darling wants to spend more time. I was previously involved in the more time decision as was the father. Leery and acutely aware of newness and unfamiliarity, we reluctantly agreed. F*&^! We are so stupid.
So, the one wanted info. And to gossip. Typical. The other wanted to laugh about their choice to do some illegal things. Ah, which illegal things? LL got loaded and high. Chronic and pot. And was laughing about it, while telling my kid that they were flirting with the third person in the texting triad while loaded and high. At least they're honest, eh?
That's when the fun began. I took the phone and began to assume my kid's identity. Oh, yes, I violated the sanctity of the text. After several texts back and forth, I told LL I was THE MOM. I think I heard LL crap a little in los pantalones. So, we then shared a dialogue and I explained that pot was totally not cool with me. LL tried to get me to believe that it was a one time/first time mistake. Yo momma may buy that crap, but I wont. LL tried really hard. LL called me dude several times, dude. LL told me that they were a good kid because their progress reports was all As, cept two Bs, dude. LL even pinkie promised me. Yes, seriously. Unwavered, I didn't back down. But I wasn't a total cow to LL either. I discussed openly for an hour and a half and told LL I expected better decision making from my kid because she was taught better. When I asked LL if they had told their parents about their first timeyness, LL instantly became so tired that LL required immediate rest and bid me a pleasant evening. Not really, it was more like, "I really have to go to sleep. I need my rest. Goodnight mam."
So, now we have lied, broken at least two laws, flirted with a friend (while loaded and high and blaming it on that [which might just be another lie, no?]), and tried to manipulate someone's mom into changing her thinking that it was just a "one time thing and that everyone makes mistakes."
I told her she couldn't spend time outside school with LL. And then she tried for another half an hour, after the hour and a half I was texting LL and talking to her at the same time, to make me change my mind into believing that LL was a good person with whom she could spend extra time. I told her I do believe in second chances but LL used them up in one night and that my kid deserves more than to compromise what she knows is right for someone who thinks it is all a fun ride. I told her if she also needed to discuss it with her father. When she talked to him he said pretty much the same thing as me.
I really love that man.
Currently listening : Fast Times At Ridgemont High: Music From The Motion Picture By Various Artists Release date: 1995-03-14
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Fostering
Current mood: hopeful
A few weeks ago I blogged about big changes. I don't remember exactly how I phrased it, but I mentioned that I would let you all know about the outcome after Travis had come and gone. Some of the close ones here in town knew because I kind of polled people to see what they thought. Most didn't really seem surprised and everyone was supportive.
Travis hadn't been off the plane more than an hour or so before I sprung it on him. We were at Kiki's having Mexican food. We were still at the chips and salsa stage when I blurted it out to him.
"Once we all get to Columbia and get settled, I want to look into fostering." You have to know Travis to know the squinty, head cocked to 45 degrees, "Heh?" I got. I explained to him that I didn't feel like I was done nurturing babies. He knew going into the marriage I wanted more than two kids, but then I got pregnant and realized I wasn't really all that good at it (being pregnant), then I got sick and realized having a healthy baby might be hard. I had resigned myself to having two kids and being satisfied with that. And, I am.
But, I never really did feel like I was done with babies. I adore babies, and most of the time, they really like me too. I don't want to foster bigger kids, because our kids are pretty set in their lifestyles and having kids close to their ages would seem incredibly unnatural to me. Bringing babies into our family seems more organic and like a better fit. And, I am not looking to adopt. I am happy with where we are as a family.
I explained this all to Travis. I was really unsure of the reaction I would get. He's the kind of guy who is sometimes really hard to gauge, even for me. After hearing all I had to say- I was talking really fast so I could get it all out before he told me, "No"- he just kind of nodded in his noddy way and said, "Well, I guess we'll have to see how things are once we are all there together." It wasn't a no, and that was really what I was hoping for from him. Usually when he answers that way it means that he needs some time to savor the idea for himself. I feel good about his response.
I got the idea of fostering from the desire I once had to adopt a child. After having our two, the idea of adopting in addition just didn't seem like a match for us. But, baby-fever has always hit me hard. My friend's (Kori) sister and her husband foster. They are fostering in order to adopt. I hear Kori speak all the time about what is going on with the kids and how they are adapting to their ever-changing home. It sounded wonderful to me.
Plus, there's the fact that by taking these babies in, we'll be helping them to have a better life; many of them are drug affected and/or abused, or they are stuck in a bad situation. I know we wont have them long, but in some way, they will feel loved and safe, and isn't that something wonderful to give a kid that might not otherwise have that? I want to do that for a baby, or many babies. I guess this is just one more way I can make a difference in this world.
Two days ago, I ran into a casual acquaintance. She was talking about her foster kids. I had no idea this lady was a foster parent, but I took the chance to quiz her about everything I could think to ask. The more she spoke, the more I wanted to foster.
I know this is something I have to do. It is something I just feel like I am meant to do, like kismet or something. I just hope it all comes together once we are in Columbia, together, and ready to have a real life again!
Currently listening : Hope Changes Everything By Harris
A few weeks ago I blogged about big changes. I don't remember exactly how I phrased it, but I mentioned that I would let you all know about the outcome after Travis had come and gone. Some of the close ones here in town knew because I kind of polled people to see what they thought. Most didn't really seem surprised and everyone was supportive.
Travis hadn't been off the plane more than an hour or so before I sprung it on him. We were at Kiki's having Mexican food. We were still at the chips and salsa stage when I blurted it out to him.
"Once we all get to Columbia and get settled, I want to look into fostering." You have to know Travis to know the squinty, head cocked to 45 degrees, "Heh?" I got. I explained to him that I didn't feel like I was done nurturing babies. He knew going into the marriage I wanted more than two kids, but then I got pregnant and realized I wasn't really all that good at it (being pregnant), then I got sick and realized having a healthy baby might be hard. I had resigned myself to having two kids and being satisfied with that. And, I am.
But, I never really did feel like I was done with babies. I adore babies, and most of the time, they really like me too. I don't want to foster bigger kids, because our kids are pretty set in their lifestyles and having kids close to their ages would seem incredibly unnatural to me. Bringing babies into our family seems more organic and like a better fit. And, I am not looking to adopt. I am happy with where we are as a family.
I explained this all to Travis. I was really unsure of the reaction I would get. He's the kind of guy who is sometimes really hard to gauge, even for me. After hearing all I had to say- I was talking really fast so I could get it all out before he told me, "No"- he just kind of nodded in his noddy way and said, "Well, I guess we'll have to see how things are once we are all there together." It wasn't a no, and that was really what I was hoping for from him. Usually when he answers that way it means that he needs some time to savor the idea for himself. I feel good about his response.
I got the idea of fostering from the desire I once had to adopt a child. After having our two, the idea of adopting in addition just didn't seem like a match for us. But, baby-fever has always hit me hard. My friend's (Kori) sister and her husband foster. They are fostering in order to adopt. I hear Kori speak all the time about what is going on with the kids and how they are adapting to their ever-changing home. It sounded wonderful to me.
Plus, there's the fact that by taking these babies in, we'll be helping them to have a better life; many of them are drug affected and/or abused, or they are stuck in a bad situation. I know we wont have them long, but in some way, they will feel loved and safe, and isn't that something wonderful to give a kid that might not otherwise have that? I want to do that for a baby, or many babies. I guess this is just one more way I can make a difference in this world.
Two days ago, I ran into a casual acquaintance. She was talking about her foster kids. I had no idea this lady was a foster parent, but I took the chance to quiz her about everything I could think to ask. The more she spoke, the more I wanted to foster.
I know this is something I have to do. It is something I just feel like I am meant to do, like kismet or something. I just hope it all comes together once we are in Columbia, together, and ready to have a real life again!
Currently listening : Hope Changes Everything By Harris
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
I'm Radioactive, Don't Lick Me
Current mood: tired
Cancer checkup day 3. Things are going pretty well, now that I don't feel like death on a stick. That was yesterday and Monday. Just in case you didn't know, Thyrogen sucks. They (the bastard doctors) will tell you that there are some slight side effects and that they don't occur in everyone. They will tell you that you just might feel a little off or a little bit like you have a flu coming on. They lie.
Monday I felt fine. I had been on the iodine diet (as they call it, should be called the no-iodine diet) since Saturday. That means I have had to be creative with my food choices. It also means that I had had no Diet Coke. That is never a good thing. So, yeah, felt fine, went to the hospital.
The first stop was the lab. I had to have a baseline blood test so the doc would have a reference point from which to judge the rest of the funny business later in the week. I am always sure to inform the phlebotomists/vampires that I don't bleed well and that they can take all the time they need to find the right-ripest-fattest vein they are able PRIOR to sticking me. It makes for a more enjoyable experience for all. I was food fasting because I wasn't sure if I needed to or not and decided to air on the side of caution. Better to fast than not when having blood work, unless, of course, there are special instructions. I got a blonde lady at the lab, informed her of my unwilling veins. She indeed, took her sweet time. She made me bleed on the first stick and I liked her instantly.
The next stop was the Endocrine Clinic. Ahh, Dr. A. What a fitting vowel. I miss Dr. Oliver. He used to be my doc, then he started working somewhere else in the hospital. I've often wanted to stalk him and beg him to see me again. It is nice to have a doctor treat you like a human AND a patient at the same time. So, anyway, the nurse at the EC took for.ev.er. To give me my injection. He chatted with an active duty patient, went in his treatment area, chatted, left to go to the lab, came back, chatted, then he took me in to the treatment area. I've had this drug before, but I had to get the complete rundown of what to expect, yay. Then, the injection. I don't care what he says, that crap hurts. He told me it was a thin liquid and would go in easy. It freaking hurt. God doesn't like liars, remember that.
I had to wait to make sure I wouldn't have a reaction, then went to my surgeon for follow-up. Not any surprises there, other than the stress of the last few weeks has helped me lose 8 of the 20 pounds I have gained since last year's amazing workout regime. Double yay! He was reasonably pleased. By that point my head hurt.
I went home and slept a bit. I woke up a bit. I slept a bit again. The kids got home and I went to bed a little early. By bedtime I was hurting pretty badly. I am not so good when I have the aches, and I had them bad. Oh, and I was freezing, even under the covers.
Yesterday I could barely wake up. We ran late all morning, but somehow I managed to make it back to the hospital for another dose of injected joy. This time the nurse injected the other arm, which is a good thing, because my right arm was hurting. I finished up there and had the headache by the time I reached the truck. Since I do NOT have an unlimited supply of money, I had to come home and paint the siding. I got the primer on the siding, the windows and the door. Then, I wanted to die. Since God could not see fit to grant me that one wish, we carried on with dinner prep, cleaning for potential real estate visitors, cheer and football practice. By the time we got home, I wanted to die more. I eventually collapsed into an achy heap in my bed.
I felt better when I woke up this morning, but that is pretty easy when you no longer feel the way you did when you asked God to give your husband a new wife that would love your children as you have. I got the kids up and at 'em and again, headed for the hospital. My first stop was the lab, where I got a young man whom I informed of my vein-ular situation. I also made sure to tell him I was fasting because I was due to have radiation and was therefore dehydrated (which, if you didn't know, makes blood drawing a little more difficult). I asked him to take all the time he needed. He thought he did, then he jammed the friggin needle in my arm so hard you'd'a thought he was going to hang a piece of art from it. After he "readjusted" the needle several times, he decided to stop and try again with a butterfly needle. Did I mention that is what the blonde lady used Monday morning? Yeah, it is. So, he got his blood and sent me off to Nuclear Medicine.
I arrived in Nuclear Medicine when there was only one other person there, which meant my visit was likely to be a quick one. Yipee! That is one of the coldest placed known to mankind, and the meds I've been taking make me cold all the time, which is a pretty dreadful situation in which to be. I sat and waited for a while when the NM pharmacist came out to speak with me about my current medications. Then, after the interview she told me I needed a pregnancy test since Dr. A forgot to order one. Yes, he forgot that a woman of childbearing age might need a pregnancy test prior to the administration of radioactive material. Ah, lucky me, I got to return to the lab, 9 floors below, to have another draw. Again, I informed the week's third vampire that sticking me was tricky. He winked and thought it surely couldn't be as hard as I made it sound. After about eight minutes of pressing on my arm, he conceded that I was right, right before he found a fat one to tap. He got me on the first stick and sent me back up to NM. NM had me wait to visit the Nuclear Radiologist until my stupid pregnancy test results came back. So, my NM appointment which had been 9:30 had taken me all the way to about 10:30 before I finally got my dose of radiation. One good thing did happen, the NR told me I could have a Diet Coke and that I could eat what I wanted if I could take it easy on the salt. Yay! I left the hospital, careful not to share any radioactive body fluids with anyone on the way out, and headed for Sonic.
44 ounces of Diet Coke later, I was changed and painting the stuff out front. I still have to do the door, but I'll be needing more paint for that. I also need to get some stuff to clean the paint off the glass of the windows, but the biggest part of the work is finished.
I am tired and I have a headache. I have a load of laundry on my bed and one in the dryer and one in the washer. I have dishes in the sink and no liner in the trash can. I am getting off this computer to go do all that crap so I can go to cheer and football tonight.
Oh, make sure you don't lick me until after 12:00 pm Friday, else you'll be radioactive too.
Currently listening : Yeah By Radioactive Release date: 2003-05-13
Cancer checkup day 3. Things are going pretty well, now that I don't feel like death on a stick. That was yesterday and Monday. Just in case you didn't know, Thyrogen sucks. They (the bastard doctors) will tell you that there are some slight side effects and that they don't occur in everyone. They will tell you that you just might feel a little off or a little bit like you have a flu coming on. They lie.
Monday I felt fine. I had been on the iodine diet (as they call it, should be called the no-iodine diet) since Saturday. That means I have had to be creative with my food choices. It also means that I had had no Diet Coke. That is never a good thing. So, yeah, felt fine, went to the hospital.
The first stop was the lab. I had to have a baseline blood test so the doc would have a reference point from which to judge the rest of the funny business later in the week. I am always sure to inform the phlebotomists/vampires that I don't bleed well and that they can take all the time they need to find the right-ripest-fattest vein they are able PRIOR to sticking me. It makes for a more enjoyable experience for all. I was food fasting because I wasn't sure if I needed to or not and decided to air on the side of caution. Better to fast than not when having blood work, unless, of course, there are special instructions. I got a blonde lady at the lab, informed her of my unwilling veins. She indeed, took her sweet time. She made me bleed on the first stick and I liked her instantly.
The next stop was the Endocrine Clinic. Ahh, Dr. A. What a fitting vowel. I miss Dr. Oliver. He used to be my doc, then he started working somewhere else in the hospital. I've often wanted to stalk him and beg him to see me again. It is nice to have a doctor treat you like a human AND a patient at the same time. So, anyway, the nurse at the EC took for.ev.er. To give me my injection. He chatted with an active duty patient, went in his treatment area, chatted, left to go to the lab, came back, chatted, then he took me in to the treatment area. I've had this drug before, but I had to get the complete rundown of what to expect, yay. Then, the injection. I don't care what he says, that crap hurts. He told me it was a thin liquid and would go in easy. It freaking hurt. God doesn't like liars, remember that.
I had to wait to make sure I wouldn't have a reaction, then went to my surgeon for follow-up. Not any surprises there, other than the stress of the last few weeks has helped me lose 8 of the 20 pounds I have gained since last year's amazing workout regime. Double yay! He was reasonably pleased. By that point my head hurt.
I went home and slept a bit. I woke up a bit. I slept a bit again. The kids got home and I went to bed a little early. By bedtime I was hurting pretty badly. I am not so good when I have the aches, and I had them bad. Oh, and I was freezing, even under the covers.
Yesterday I could barely wake up. We ran late all morning, but somehow I managed to make it back to the hospital for another dose of injected joy. This time the nurse injected the other arm, which is a good thing, because my right arm was hurting. I finished up there and had the headache by the time I reached the truck. Since I do NOT have an unlimited supply of money, I had to come home and paint the siding. I got the primer on the siding, the windows and the door. Then, I wanted to die. Since God could not see fit to grant me that one wish, we carried on with dinner prep, cleaning for potential real estate visitors, cheer and football practice. By the time we got home, I wanted to die more. I eventually collapsed into an achy heap in my bed.
I felt better when I woke up this morning, but that is pretty easy when you no longer feel the way you did when you asked God to give your husband a new wife that would love your children as you have. I got the kids up and at 'em and again, headed for the hospital. My first stop was the lab, where I got a young man whom I informed of my vein-ular situation. I also made sure to tell him I was fasting because I was due to have radiation and was therefore dehydrated (which, if you didn't know, makes blood drawing a little more difficult). I asked him to take all the time he needed. He thought he did, then he jammed the friggin needle in my arm so hard you'd'a thought he was going to hang a piece of art from it. After he "readjusted" the needle several times, he decided to stop and try again with a butterfly needle. Did I mention that is what the blonde lady used Monday morning? Yeah, it is. So, he got his blood and sent me off to Nuclear Medicine.
I arrived in Nuclear Medicine when there was only one other person there, which meant my visit was likely to be a quick one. Yipee! That is one of the coldest placed known to mankind, and the meds I've been taking make me cold all the time, which is a pretty dreadful situation in which to be. I sat and waited for a while when the NM pharmacist came out to speak with me about my current medications. Then, after the interview she told me I needed a pregnancy test since Dr. A forgot to order one. Yes, he forgot that a woman of childbearing age might need a pregnancy test prior to the administration of radioactive material. Ah, lucky me, I got to return to the lab, 9 floors below, to have another draw. Again, I informed the week's third vampire that sticking me was tricky. He winked and thought it surely couldn't be as hard as I made it sound. After about eight minutes of pressing on my arm, he conceded that I was right, right before he found a fat one to tap. He got me on the first stick and sent me back up to NM. NM had me wait to visit the Nuclear Radiologist until my stupid pregnancy test results came back. So, my NM appointment which had been 9:30 had taken me all the way to about 10:30 before I finally got my dose of radiation. One good thing did happen, the NR told me I could have a Diet Coke and that I could eat what I wanted if I could take it easy on the salt. Yay! I left the hospital, careful not to share any radioactive body fluids with anyone on the way out, and headed for Sonic.
44 ounces of Diet Coke later, I was changed and painting the stuff out front. I still have to do the door, but I'll be needing more paint for that. I also need to get some stuff to clean the paint off the glass of the windows, but the biggest part of the work is finished.
I am tired and I have a headache. I have a load of laundry on my bed and one in the dryer and one in the washer. I have dishes in the sink and no liner in the trash can. I am getting off this computer to go do all that crap so I can go to cheer and football tonight.
Oh, make sure you don't lick me until after 12:00 pm Friday, else you'll be radioactive too.
Currently listening : Yeah By Radioactive Release date: 2003-05-13
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
I am Caring Less
Current mood: blissful
Most of my life I have contemplated what about me my siblings don't like. Most of the time it has baffled me beyond words. Again, my family situation is somewhat complicated with none of my siblings being my fully genetic siblings. Two are half, one is not genetically my sibling. I didn't know about one of them until I was an adult- one of the halves, whom I lovingly refer to as "My sista from another mista." Don't use the phrase if you can't back it up. I can back it up. My other sista is also from another mista and it is the same mista as the first sista. They are genetically full sisters. One of them is legally my sister 100% because my genetic father adopted her. The other one (the one that ALWAYS likes to hear from me) is legally my 100% cousin. Then there's my brother. He is adopted fully, by both parents. That NEVER mattered to me until it got thrown in my flipping face every time anything in the family happened that didn't please him. It sucks to love someone with your whole heart even though your heart and theirs share no DNA, when all they can do is complain about the fact. I guess I am horrible because I don't understand it. Said it before, sayin it again- Mine. You are mine. You are my full brother and that's that. My 100% sister is mine too. My sister. eh, whatever. After 35 years, I am sick of it all.
I talked to my mother today. Much of it was about how she is feeling (better, still) and some of it was about "the" incident. The unsolicited ass-chewing (the most recent one) which rocked my world (again) happened in the midst of Mom's hospitalization. Lets us just say that alcohol could have been a factor in "the" incident, but I have no proof. Ah-hem.
All I wanted from my siblings (not my cousin/sister) was a relationship based on siblingly things. I just wanted to be able to hang with them and know them. I am sixteen and eight years younger than them and although my brother was technically living with us when I was growing up, he was absorbed in his stuff and I in mine, so we weren't close as kids. By the time I was born my sister had headed off into her life already. She was around, from time to time, but nothing I, as a child, could predict. We weren't close either. As a kid, that was OK. as I became an adult, I yearned to know them better.
For years I was hurt when my seeking those elusive relationships resulted in nothingness. It really hurt. It hurt me for a long time. Eventually I learned that they did not desire from me the same relationship I desired from them. I can atest to the fact that unrequited love really sucks. I think it is worse when it is actually unrequited from your real family. Yup, my real family, regardless of what they might say or think, or what legal doccumentation is involved.
I was an adult when I learned of my other sister (yup, the one that likes me). It wasn't a dirty little secret, really. It was more of a situation where certain parties were worried about the feelings of others so nothing was said for years. It was one of those family things done in the 50's that was done to protect people. I understand that. I wasn't supposed to know, but I was told. That might just be one of the greatest gifts I've ever been given. Knowledge is, indeed, powerful. Getting to know Treva has been wonderful for me. It is wonderful because I really wanted to be a sister as much as to have a sister all of my life. I'm not sure if the individual who told me meant for Treva and I to forge the relationship we have or not, but I owe you a HUGE thank you.
So, now, after 35 years, I realize it. It is crystal clear. I have a sister and I am a sister to her. And she has a relationship with our mother and is excited for all our involvement in her life means. How awesome is that?
I guess it took "the" incident to clear things up for me. Several years ago there was another incident which was very similar to last week's little issue. That hurt me for a very long time. I didn't go to Arizona for a period of about three or four years because I was trying to avoid my brother, who lived near our parents. It was the death of one of our aunts which got us back to a point where we could speak. I forgave, but I never forgot. Now I am glad I didn't forget. It was wise to not forget that.
When our father died, we were all there. One of us was avoiding dealing with it- or was dealing with it on their own in some way I didn't understand. The other two of us did what we could to make the situation bearable. There was a blowup then too, but it wasn't directed at me (for the first time, EVER!). I was just as amazed as the next guy when it wasn't my issue with which to deal. And I kept my mouth shut and stayed out of it. (Thank you, Jesus, for giving me the insight to shut my stupid mouth)
I guess it is safe to say that every major family event (except Dad's death) has resulted in someone melting down on me. I don't feel sorry for myself. I realize now that it is because I am strong. I am a fighter. I am confident in myself and who I am and what I do. It intimidates some people and it makes them feel inferior. I don't think others realize that. Most just call me a bitch. Today, I think its OK. If you have to think that to make it through the day, go ahead. I give you permission, and that, I am sure, will piss you off as well. Oh well.
Christmas 2007 was a gigantic deal. All three of us were home, at Mom's house, for Christmas. Four of the six grandchildren were there, significant others were there and even a couple of dogs. It was Mom's request. We all behaved. It was very good. No meltdowns. It meant so much to Mom and it helped me move things along in the relationship arena.
Then, this happened. Not that it matters, but Mom was involved in my involvement. Yes, that sounds confusing, but I can tell you she was as aware of what I was doing from the start. It was her request. One of those you think you are protecting knows just exactly what happened. And, they were happy to be involved. Just so you know, she's my mother too. Oh yeah, that's your line. I must have learned how to use it from you.
When you cracked open your ugliness on me, I think you thought you would hurt me tremendously. I am going to be honest, it did hurt. It hurt for about five minutes, until I got your obnoxious voice out of my head. Silence brought me clarity. Your threats and accusations only solidified my stance. I'll keep it to myself. And I will keep everything else about myself away from you too.
You no longer have access to me. You can read my blog, if you can figure out how to find it. I am not hiding. I am right here. I don't care any more. Thank you for helping me not care any more. I will never again bother you with anything. That is your doing and your choice. It didn't have to be this way, but it is now.
Don't confuse that with me not caring about you. I still do and I always will. you don't have the power to change my emotions or my mind. But, this time around, I didn't spend days being seriously upset. I got OK real quick. That was my signal that I am finished. I am done trying. And, I will be fine. For the rest of my days, I will be fine. I don't need to pursue a relationship with you ever again. You released me. Just like I have learned in the past, that may be one of the greatest gifts I'll ever be given. Thank you for making me realize that the stress of what you think is not worth it for me. You've crapped on me enough and I am finished.
To my 100% sister, I am aware you had a bit of knowledge. That's fine. You have your own opinions of me and that's ok too. I'm not looking to change your mind. I am not looking for anything any more. I am finished trying to be the sister you never really wanted. I am sorry if that sounds ugly, but I've been hurt here too. It hasn't tormented me for years, but now it wont even bother me slightly.
This even has shown me that I am about 67% on my own in the sibling department. That's cool. I'm ok.
I am proud of myself for this. It took me such a long time to know that although I will always love you, I will never really be able to be a part of your life or let you be a part of mine. My kids know what you did and what you said, too. I don't hide things from them. They are aware of what you said about them as well. The funniest thing about that is their reactions, given independently of one another. Both of them just rolled their eyes, the way teens and tweens tend to do, and said, quite profoundly, "Whatevah." I am proud of my kids. They kick ass.
Oh, and so do yours.
Currently listening : I Don't Care (If You Love Me Anymore) By Mavericks Release date: 1997-06-17
Most of my life I have contemplated what about me my siblings don't like. Most of the time it has baffled me beyond words. Again, my family situation is somewhat complicated with none of my siblings being my fully genetic siblings. Two are half, one is not genetically my sibling. I didn't know about one of them until I was an adult- one of the halves, whom I lovingly refer to as "My sista from another mista." Don't use the phrase if you can't back it up. I can back it up. My other sista is also from another mista and it is the same mista as the first sista. They are genetically full sisters. One of them is legally my sister 100% because my genetic father adopted her. The other one (the one that ALWAYS likes to hear from me) is legally my 100% cousin. Then there's my brother. He is adopted fully, by both parents. That NEVER mattered to me until it got thrown in my flipping face every time anything in the family happened that didn't please him. It sucks to love someone with your whole heart even though your heart and theirs share no DNA, when all they can do is complain about the fact. I guess I am horrible because I don't understand it. Said it before, sayin it again- Mine. You are mine. You are my full brother and that's that. My 100% sister is mine too. My sister. eh, whatever. After 35 years, I am sick of it all.
I talked to my mother today. Much of it was about how she is feeling (better, still) and some of it was about "the" incident. The unsolicited ass-chewing (the most recent one) which rocked my world (again) happened in the midst of Mom's hospitalization. Lets us just say that alcohol could have been a factor in "the" incident, but I have no proof. Ah-hem.
All I wanted from my siblings (not my cousin/sister) was a relationship based on siblingly things. I just wanted to be able to hang with them and know them. I am sixteen and eight years younger than them and although my brother was technically living with us when I was growing up, he was absorbed in his stuff and I in mine, so we weren't close as kids. By the time I was born my sister had headed off into her life already. She was around, from time to time, but nothing I, as a child, could predict. We weren't close either. As a kid, that was OK. as I became an adult, I yearned to know them better.
For years I was hurt when my seeking those elusive relationships resulted in nothingness. It really hurt. It hurt me for a long time. Eventually I learned that they did not desire from me the same relationship I desired from them. I can atest to the fact that unrequited love really sucks. I think it is worse when it is actually unrequited from your real family. Yup, my real family, regardless of what they might say or think, or what legal doccumentation is involved.
I was an adult when I learned of my other sister (yup, the one that likes me). It wasn't a dirty little secret, really. It was more of a situation where certain parties were worried about the feelings of others so nothing was said for years. It was one of those family things done in the 50's that was done to protect people. I understand that. I wasn't supposed to know, but I was told. That might just be one of the greatest gifts I've ever been given. Knowledge is, indeed, powerful. Getting to know Treva has been wonderful for me. It is wonderful because I really wanted to be a sister as much as to have a sister all of my life. I'm not sure if the individual who told me meant for Treva and I to forge the relationship we have or not, but I owe you a HUGE thank you.
So, now, after 35 years, I realize it. It is crystal clear. I have a sister and I am a sister to her. And she has a relationship with our mother and is excited for all our involvement in her life means. How awesome is that?
I guess it took "the" incident to clear things up for me. Several years ago there was another incident which was very similar to last week's little issue. That hurt me for a very long time. I didn't go to Arizona for a period of about three or four years because I was trying to avoid my brother, who lived near our parents. It was the death of one of our aunts which got us back to a point where we could speak. I forgave, but I never forgot. Now I am glad I didn't forget. It was wise to not forget that.
When our father died, we were all there. One of us was avoiding dealing with it- or was dealing with it on their own in some way I didn't understand. The other two of us did what we could to make the situation bearable. There was a blowup then too, but it wasn't directed at me (for the first time, EVER!). I was just as amazed as the next guy when it wasn't my issue with which to deal. And I kept my mouth shut and stayed out of it. (Thank you, Jesus, for giving me the insight to shut my stupid mouth)
I guess it is safe to say that every major family event (except Dad's death) has resulted in someone melting down on me. I don't feel sorry for myself. I realize now that it is because I am strong. I am a fighter. I am confident in myself and who I am and what I do. It intimidates some people and it makes them feel inferior. I don't think others realize that. Most just call me a bitch. Today, I think its OK. If you have to think that to make it through the day, go ahead. I give you permission, and that, I am sure, will piss you off as well. Oh well.
Christmas 2007 was a gigantic deal. All three of us were home, at Mom's house, for Christmas. Four of the six grandchildren were there, significant others were there and even a couple of dogs. It was Mom's request. We all behaved. It was very good. No meltdowns. It meant so much to Mom and it helped me move things along in the relationship arena.
Then, this happened. Not that it matters, but Mom was involved in my involvement. Yes, that sounds confusing, but I can tell you she was as aware of what I was doing from the start. It was her request. One of those you think you are protecting knows just exactly what happened. And, they were happy to be involved. Just so you know, she's my mother too. Oh yeah, that's your line. I must have learned how to use it from you.
When you cracked open your ugliness on me, I think you thought you would hurt me tremendously. I am going to be honest, it did hurt. It hurt for about five minutes, until I got your obnoxious voice out of my head. Silence brought me clarity. Your threats and accusations only solidified my stance. I'll keep it to myself. And I will keep everything else about myself away from you too.
You no longer have access to me. You can read my blog, if you can figure out how to find it. I am not hiding. I am right here. I don't care any more. Thank you for helping me not care any more. I will never again bother you with anything. That is your doing and your choice. It didn't have to be this way, but it is now.
Don't confuse that with me not caring about you. I still do and I always will. you don't have the power to change my emotions or my mind. But, this time around, I didn't spend days being seriously upset. I got OK real quick. That was my signal that I am finished. I am done trying. And, I will be fine. For the rest of my days, I will be fine. I don't need to pursue a relationship with you ever again. You released me. Just like I have learned in the past, that may be one of the greatest gifts I'll ever be given. Thank you for making me realize that the stress of what you think is not worth it for me. You've crapped on me enough and I am finished.
To my 100% sister, I am aware you had a bit of knowledge. That's fine. You have your own opinions of me and that's ok too. I'm not looking to change your mind. I am not looking for anything any more. I am finished trying to be the sister you never really wanted. I am sorry if that sounds ugly, but I've been hurt here too. It hasn't tormented me for years, but now it wont even bother me slightly.
This even has shown me that I am about 67% on my own in the sibling department. That's cool. I'm ok.
I am proud of myself for this. It took me such a long time to know that although I will always love you, I will never really be able to be a part of your life or let you be a part of mine. My kids know what you did and what you said, too. I don't hide things from them. They are aware of what you said about them as well. The funniest thing about that is their reactions, given independently of one another. Both of them just rolled their eyes, the way teens and tweens tend to do, and said, quite profoundly, "Whatevah." I am proud of my kids. They kick ass.
Oh, and so do yours.
Currently listening : I Don't Care (If You Love Me Anymore) By Mavericks Release date: 1997-06-17
Monday, September 1, 2008
Homestretch
Current mood: sore
Well, if all goes according to our wishes, we are entering the last phase of this living arrangement. Travis will be here Wednesday. I am so glad. Yeah, I'll have him putting aluminum sealant on the roof and putting the hardware the kids ripped out of the walls of the bathroom back up and putting new blades on the fans on the porch and stuff like that, but I am just so glad he's going to be here.
I've been trying really hard to hold it all together and I think I've done a reasonable job of it. I haven't killed the kids yet, which is sort of important. I've not gotten everything finished that I wanted done by this point, but there's a lot of it done. I didn't have time to have a freak out over my mother, but I was extremely scared for a while (she's home, by the way, and doing better). I did make time to have a teensy freak out after my brother's little nuclear meltdown on me.
My Aunt Betty died last week too. Mom didn't learn of it until Friday and I didn't learn of it until that night. I am sad about it, but I am ok.
I am working again. I have two new contracts and maybe a third. I am delivering a little boy to and from school and I am dog walking. The third is for animal waste pickup. The lady wants me to do that for her mother. I am not making much yet, but that will come. This is my litmus test for personal assisting. I know I can charge more in Columbia and I am pretty confident the people there will be more receptive to the idea. I am enjoying myself. That's the key. Plus, I am getting a pretty fair amount of exercise in (big, huge dog walking makes your shoulders sore from leash training them. They are still very young and are learning manners.- St. Bernard and Bulldog) and I again have my business income and write-offs. The exercise is big too, because going to the gym has almost disappeared from my life.
The biggest reason I am glad Travis will be here is that I just need him. I miss him terribly. He works like a fiend there and I feel awful that I am not there to take care of him. I miss having him to take care of. Yeah, I do take care of the kids. I am pleased to do that too, but it is nothing like taking care of Travis. Letting him go back is going to be rough. I've said it before and I feel guilty for saying it at all, but this type of separation is in some (many) ways harder than a
deployment. There is no arguing with a deployment. They are just gone. This situation was a choice. I don't want to regret it.
Today is the first day for about four or five I haven't picked up something to paint with. Instead, I walked the dogs and then headed for Home Depot for more paint stuff and the rest of the siding stuff for the front of the house and some plants to make the place look pretty outside. I just hope I can get the inside looking that nice again. I planted for about two hours this afternoon and then cleaned up out there. Have I mentioned yet how sore I am? I feel like my hip joints are about to drop my legs from my body and I hurt. I keep telling myself this will pass. I'm not thinking that it will pass for at least another two weeks.
I survived my first week as a high school parent. It wasn't that bad and somehow it seems like La Princessa is experiencing fewer issues. I am sure that is, in part, a result of the wanker not being around. I am excited for her and all the fun she is having and all that is to come her way.
The Man-Child got to wrap up the week at the Waiting Families' pizza party at IPC. We carpooled over with the Tomster and his mother and youngest brother. The boys had a blast. It was fun to watch TMC have such a good time and giggle. He won enough tickets on the games to earn himself a prize. His choice- a water weenie. I have always hated those things. It was all the excitement on the way home. I'm sure you can imagine all the fun a truck full of boys could have with a water weenie. Gestures, motions, phrases. Allow me to share- purple mushroom, one eyed snake, there were more but I was too amazed about what they were saying to remember. Yes, me, embarassed at boys.
I've got work tomorrow and the thrift shop. I have to clean and do laundry and I really need to get some more painting done.
Know anyone who wants to buy my house later this month?
Oh, I'm still sore.
Currently listening : I Think We're Gonna Be Alright By Rob Russell & The Sore Losers Release date: 2002-10-15
Well, if all goes according to our wishes, we are entering the last phase of this living arrangement. Travis will be here Wednesday. I am so glad. Yeah, I'll have him putting aluminum sealant on the roof and putting the hardware the kids ripped out of the walls of the bathroom back up and putting new blades on the fans on the porch and stuff like that, but I am just so glad he's going to be here.
I've been trying really hard to hold it all together and I think I've done a reasonable job of it. I haven't killed the kids yet, which is sort of important. I've not gotten everything finished that I wanted done by this point, but there's a lot of it done. I didn't have time to have a freak out over my mother, but I was extremely scared for a while (she's home, by the way, and doing better). I did make time to have a teensy freak out after my brother's little nuclear meltdown on me.
My Aunt Betty died last week too. Mom didn't learn of it until Friday and I didn't learn of it until that night. I am sad about it, but I am ok.
I am working again. I have two new contracts and maybe a third. I am delivering a little boy to and from school and I am dog walking. The third is for animal waste pickup. The lady wants me to do that for her mother. I am not making much yet, but that will come. This is my litmus test for personal assisting. I know I can charge more in Columbia and I am pretty confident the people there will be more receptive to the idea. I am enjoying myself. That's the key. Plus, I am getting a pretty fair amount of exercise in (big, huge dog walking makes your shoulders sore from leash training them. They are still very young and are learning manners.- St. Bernard and Bulldog) and I again have my business income and write-offs. The exercise is big too, because going to the gym has almost disappeared from my life.
The biggest reason I am glad Travis will be here is that I just need him. I miss him terribly. He works like a fiend there and I feel awful that I am not there to take care of him. I miss having him to take care of. Yeah, I do take care of the kids. I am pleased to do that too, but it is nothing like taking care of Travis. Letting him go back is going to be rough. I've said it before and I feel guilty for saying it at all, but this type of separation is in some (many) ways harder than a
deployment. There is no arguing with a deployment. They are just gone. This situation was a choice. I don't want to regret it.
Today is the first day for about four or five I haven't picked up something to paint with. Instead, I walked the dogs and then headed for Home Depot for more paint stuff and the rest of the siding stuff for the front of the house and some plants to make the place look pretty outside. I just hope I can get the inside looking that nice again. I planted for about two hours this afternoon and then cleaned up out there. Have I mentioned yet how sore I am? I feel like my hip joints are about to drop my legs from my body and I hurt. I keep telling myself this will pass. I'm not thinking that it will pass for at least another two weeks.
I survived my first week as a high school parent. It wasn't that bad and somehow it seems like La Princessa is experiencing fewer issues. I am sure that is, in part, a result of the wanker not being around. I am excited for her and all the fun she is having and all that is to come her way.
The Man-Child got to wrap up the week at the Waiting Families' pizza party at IPC. We carpooled over with the Tomster and his mother and youngest brother. The boys had a blast. It was fun to watch TMC have such a good time and giggle. He won enough tickets on the games to earn himself a prize. His choice- a water weenie. I have always hated those things. It was all the excitement on the way home. I'm sure you can imagine all the fun a truck full of boys could have with a water weenie. Gestures, motions, phrases. Allow me to share- purple mushroom, one eyed snake, there were more but I was too amazed about what they were saying to remember. Yes, me, embarassed at boys.
I've got work tomorrow and the thrift shop. I have to clean and do laundry and I really need to get some more painting done.
Know anyone who wants to buy my house later this month?
Oh, I'm still sore.
Currently listening : I Think We're Gonna Be Alright By Rob Russell & The Sore Losers Release date: 2002-10-15
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