I’ve had a difficult, emotional week. For a couple of reasons.
First, one I’ve already written enough about, but feel like writing more about. Rachel starting middle school. So far so good on the middle school front. Last night, I went to 6th grade open house to meet her teachers. I knew several of them already because she is on the same team Lauren was on in 6th grade, so she has some of the same teachers Lauren had. She also has the same band teacher that Brandon had, and who is Lauren’s jazz band director.
Rachel proudly showed me how quickly she can open her locker. All summer, whenever she would talk about middle school, that was the thing she was most worried about…being able to remember her locker combination!
In true Rachel “little miss social” fashion, teachers who weren’t hers and parents of kids I had never seen before were saying “Hi Rachel!” in the hallways as we moved from room to room. That shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did…I remember going to her kindergarten open house and being completely amazed at all of the teachers and even older kids who seemed to know her.
She wants to join some clubs…too many, actually, which again, shouldn’t surprise me at all…yesterday, she brought home a pamphlet with all of the clubs and their descriptions, and she had drawn little stars by the ones she wants to join…Clarinet Choir, Intramurals, Yearbook Staff, Computer Club, and Stream Team. I told her she can’t do them all and she doesn’t understand why.
The funniest thing about last night was the reaction I got from a few of her teachers. Even teachers who Brandon, Justin and Lauren didn’t have knew who they were, and Rachel is so very different from her siblings. And her teachers have already quickly figured that out in only 3 days!
So all in all, it’s been a good week for her, and some of my fears about her being in middle school are alleviated maybe a tiny little bit. I was still amazed at so many of the girls and how much older they seem than Rachel. Maybe that is only MY distorted perception since it is hard for me to think of Rachel as anything but “my baby.” I did leave there wondering how many days it will take her to ask me if she can wear make up though!
Okay, so on to my next emotional “thing.” I will preface this by saying that for some reason, Aunt Mary has been on my mind so often this summer. I had my little “breakdown” that I always have on Rachel’s birthday, and that must have triggered it, but I usually quickly get over it and move on. Maybe it didn’t help that just a week after that, we went to Olney, and it’s impossible for me to go to Olney and not spend nearly every minute I’m there thinking of her. But still, it hasn’t ended. I think she has been on my mind more this summer than she ever has been in the 7 1/2 years since she died. All summer, I’ve felt sort of melancholy about it, and wondered why, but that’s about as far as it went. Just wondering.
Then, on Wednesday, I went to Cathi’s sister’s funeral. It was very sad, and I felt so bad for Cathi. And every time the priest or reader would say what song we would sing next, I thought “Please don’t let it be ‘How Great Thou Art.’”
I love that song, but so did Aunt Mary…it was her favorite. It was played at Uncle Dan’s funeral, and again at her funeral…at the end when the family was walking out of the church. A year later, when I went to Aunt Marion’s funeral, it was played again. I’m ashamed to say I haven’t gone to church in a very long time, and Aunt Marion’s funeral was the last time I heard “How Great Thou Art.”
For some reason, I had a feeling on Wednesday that it was coming. Probably since it’s a common song at a Catholic funeral. I knew I would have a hard time hearing it. And I did.
As soon as I heard the first notes from the organ, I knew the tears would come and I wouldn’t be able to stop them. I normally enjoy singing in church. I don’t have much of a singing voice, but I like to sing, and I have always figured in church, it doesn’t matter if you aren’t all that great at singing because you blend in with everyone else, and no one notices that you really suck at singing. I didn’t sing at this funeral though because I forgot my glasses so I couldn’t read the words in the hymnal, and they were all unfamiliar to me.
Normally, I can sing all of the many verses of “How Great Thou Art” without the aid of a hymnal, but I couldn’t do it. I tried, but I couldn’t sing through my tears.
At the funeral, I sat with Deb and Stephanie and five ladies from the Angel Ball committee. I know they had to be wondering why I was crying so much, when I barely knew Cathi’s sister. No one asked me, but I was sort of wishing afterwards that they would have. It would have been nice to share my feelings about my dear Aunt Mary with them. Sigh…
Last night, I went into Rachel’s room to tuck her in, and noticed that a bedspread that Aunt Mary made was on her bed. Last fall, I painted and redecorated her bedroom and she has a new bedspread. But I also have a cross stitched quilt that Aunt Mary made that matches her bedroom. She switches quilts every once in awhile. Sometimes, the quilt I bought her is on her bed, sometimes, Aunt Mary’s quilt is. She hasn’t had Aunt Mary’s quilt on her bed in several months, probably since winter, so seeing it last night…kind of a shock. I wanted to ask her what made her get it out of the linen closet again, but I didn’t. I couldn’t.
A month or so ago, I wrote a post on the Share blog about the potholes of grief. About how you can just be tooling along in life, when suddenly, out of the blue grief hits. It may be a small pothole that only jars you for a brief moment, or it can be a larger one, that really jolts you and takes you a while to recover from. I wrote about how that often happens to me in my work at Share, and that when I once shared it with Cathi, she told me that it is my babies way of making sure that I was thinking of them.
I’ve been thinking of that a lot the past few days…wondering if Aunt Mary just wanted me to be thinking of her this summer for some reason. I don’t know what that reason would be. It’s been hard the past few months having her on my mind so much, yet at the same time, comforting. Comforting because I know she is still with me, in my heart, and she always will be. I guess I’ve hit a pothole. A big one, that has really jolted me.
I miss her. I know that I always will. And I hope that she knows that.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Feeling rather silly....I posted this last week, then took it down for fear of anyone who read it thinking I was being ridiculous. Now, I'm posting it again. Fickle much?? :)
Lately, my brain just isn’t what it used to be. I am so forgetful these days. I forget EVERYTHING. I’m okay with big things, but I forget little things, like picking up milk at the grocery store when that is the main thing I went there to buy in the first place. I have gotten out of the shower and realized that I forgot to put conditioner in my hair. I recently locked keys in the car for the first time in probably 20 years. I’ve gotten to work and realized that I left my computer at home! I could go on and on, but I’d depress myself seeing my forgetful ways laid out in front of me in all their glory.
So, if I’m so forgetful, how come today I could remember (vividly!) a day in 1975 like it was only yesterday? I don’t remember the exact date, that’s not important anyway. But I do know it was 1975 because that is when I started middle school. Well, not “middle school” because back then, it was called “Junior High.” Or Hell on Earth. Take your pick.
Kirby Junior High. Where I spent seventh and eighth grade. The lonnnngggggest two years of my childhood. I don’t like even driving by Kirby Junior High, so thank goodness I don’t that often, only when I’m driving on 270 on my way to Illinois. It’s not even called Kirby Junior High anymore. It’s called Hazelwood East Middle School. But it doesn’t matter. In my mind, it will always be Kirby Junior High. It looks exactly the same. Well, from the outside. It’s probably different on the inside, but, I can still envision the hallways and how I walked them those first days wishing I was invisible…the cafeteria, the principal’s office, the science lab where my 8th grade science teacher took great delight in humiliating me…But I digress, even though I could go on and on and on with dredging up the not-so-wonderful memories I have of Kirby Junior High. I won’t.
This afternoon, I was in a different middle school…Mary Emily Bryan Middle School. Or just Bryan. It’s certainly not the first time I’ve been in this school as Brandon, Justin and Lauren have all attended. But it was the first time I had the “flashback” reaction that I had today.
This afternoon, I took Rachel to pick up her schedule, get her locker assignment and purchase her gym clothes. My “baby” is starting middle school. Next Tuesday, she starts 6th grade. I knew this day was going to be tough for me, but I wasn’t expecting WHY it would be tough. I thought just knowing that my “baby” is off to middle school would bring on the emotions. Since I’ve experienced Bryan middle school for the past 7 years, I wasn’t expecting what happened today.
I was standing in a long line in the gym to pick up her schedule. Rachel was flitting around talking to her friends who were there. Of course! As I was standing there in the very slow moving line, I found myself watching the other kids who were coming into the gym. So many of them look so grown up for 6th graders…which is what triggered my memory of my first days of junior high.
I was such a fish out of water. I walked into my first day of junior high feeling like a little kid. All of the girls seemed so much more grown up and “developed” than me…I was a “late bloomer” (LOL). It didn’t help that I didn’t know a soul there. Oh, other than the boy who lived next door to me who gave me the creeps. We had moved in the summer between my 6th and 7th grade year, so I hadn’t had time to make any friends other than a girl who lived down the street, but she was a year younger than me, so she was still in grammar school.
While I was standing in line waiting to get Rachel’s schedule and gym clothes, I couldn’t help but think how so many of the girls coming in looked so much older than Rachel. She still seems like such a little kid to me. I know that she isn’t, she is growing up, but compared to so many other girls…with boobs, makeup…even highlighted hair and acrylic fingernails…she is still a little girl. She still plays with American Girl dolls and Polly Pockets! And so many of the girls I saw today…well, I can’t imagine them playing with Polly Pockets. While Rachel was in sweaty ponytails after a day at 6 Flags, they were girls fussing with their styled hair, putting on lip gloss, and checking out boys. I am not ready for Rachel to be checking out boys at the age of 11!
I couldn’t help it…I wanted to get the hell out of there. I wanted to take Rachel by the hand, leave, and tell her I was going to home school her!
I didn’t have this reaction when Lauren started middle school. But then Lauren has always seemed more grown up. Her birthday just missed the cutoff, so she has always been one of the older ones in her class. And Lauren is so self confident…sure of who she is….and doesn’t really much care what other people think of her. She dresses the way she wants, wears her hair the way she wants, does the things she wants, and really doesn’t worry about what anyone thinks of her. Rachel, though…Rachel is more like me. In some ways at least.
She’s definitely more social than I have ever been. I was always quiet and shy, and those two words never have been and never will be used to describe my last born child. But, she is just like me in other ways. She is sensitive and takes to heart things people say to her. Her feelings are easily hurt. I swear, it’s like she has the best of Tony (her outgoing social ways) and the worst of me (her sensitivity).
But that is who she is. And that combination just doesn’t seem like it will fare well in middle school. She wants everyone to like her, worries about what kids think, wants to fit in…worries about having the “right” clothes…and all I could think about when I was in the Mary Emily Bryan Middle School gym today was my BABY walking through the halls of middle school feeling the way I did when I first walked the halls of Kirby Junior High. Those were not good years for me, and I sometimes think that things that happened then shaped many of the feelings I have about myself, that I try so hard to overcome.
This post isn’t about me, though. It’s about Rachel and how I dread her going to middle school. The thought of this bubbly sweet (oh so very sweet!) child of mine feeling like she doesn’t fit in, or wishing she were invisible, is heart wrenching for me. I worry that when she has times where she feels less than adequate, or when she is dealing with the girl dramas that I know are coming, that I won’t be able to help her through them or be able to say the “right” things that will enable her to come out of them with her self esteem intact.
I am also dreading the ways that she might change in the next three years. Right now, she is still a little girl. She still comes to me crying when she hurts herself. She wants to snuggle with me on the couch when we watch tv. She hugs me when she gets up in the morning and before she goes to bed at night. She wants to be with me all the time, help me cook, watch me iron, play games, play with my hair…right now, she is still my little girl.
And I know that she won’t be much longer.
Lauren has blossomed in middle school. She has “come out of her shell.” Middle school has been really good for her. I pray that the pressures of middle school don’t change Rachel…don’t change (or crush) her sweet spirit…don’t change who she fundamentally is.
But mostly, I pray that whatever challenges Rachel faces in middle school, that I have the wisdom to help her through them, that my own self esteem issues don’t get in the way. I pray that she will come to me and LET me help her face them.
Finally, I pray that she blossoms in middle school. That she feels free to be her silly, sweet self. At this moment, she is snuggled under a quilt on the couch in the family room. She is almost asleep. She looks so innocent and peaceful. Her thumb is in her mouth. Yeah, she still sucks her thumb sometimes when she sleeps.
It's so hard for me to imagine that in only a few days, she may be walking the halls of a new school feeling as I did in 1975.
I pray she doesn’t.
Lately, my brain just isn’t what it used to be. I am so forgetful these days. I forget EVERYTHING. I’m okay with big things, but I forget little things, like picking up milk at the grocery store when that is the main thing I went there to buy in the first place. I have gotten out of the shower and realized that I forgot to put conditioner in my hair. I recently locked keys in the car for the first time in probably 20 years. I’ve gotten to work and realized that I left my computer at home! I could go on and on, but I’d depress myself seeing my forgetful ways laid out in front of me in all their glory.
So, if I’m so forgetful, how come today I could remember (vividly!) a day in 1975 like it was only yesterday? I don’t remember the exact date, that’s not important anyway. But I do know it was 1975 because that is when I started middle school. Well, not “middle school” because back then, it was called “Junior High.” Or Hell on Earth. Take your pick.
Kirby Junior High. Where I spent seventh and eighth grade. The lonnnngggggest two years of my childhood. I don’t like even driving by Kirby Junior High, so thank goodness I don’t that often, only when I’m driving on 270 on my way to Illinois. It’s not even called Kirby Junior High anymore. It’s called Hazelwood East Middle School. But it doesn’t matter. In my mind, it will always be Kirby Junior High. It looks exactly the same. Well, from the outside. It’s probably different on the inside, but, I can still envision the hallways and how I walked them those first days wishing I was invisible…the cafeteria, the principal’s office, the science lab where my 8th grade science teacher took great delight in humiliating me…But I digress, even though I could go on and on and on with dredging up the not-so-wonderful memories I have of Kirby Junior High. I won’t.
This afternoon, I was in a different middle school…Mary Emily Bryan Middle School. Or just Bryan. It’s certainly not the first time I’ve been in this school as Brandon, Justin and Lauren have all attended. But it was the first time I had the “flashback” reaction that I had today.
This afternoon, I took Rachel to pick up her schedule, get her locker assignment and purchase her gym clothes. My “baby” is starting middle school. Next Tuesday, she starts 6th grade. I knew this day was going to be tough for me, but I wasn’t expecting WHY it would be tough. I thought just knowing that my “baby” is off to middle school would bring on the emotions. Since I’ve experienced Bryan middle school for the past 7 years, I wasn’t expecting what happened today.
I was standing in a long line in the gym to pick up her schedule. Rachel was flitting around talking to her friends who were there. Of course! As I was standing there in the very slow moving line, I found myself watching the other kids who were coming into the gym. So many of them look so grown up for 6th graders…which is what triggered my memory of my first days of junior high.
I was such a fish out of water. I walked into my first day of junior high feeling like a little kid. All of the girls seemed so much more grown up and “developed” than me…I was a “late bloomer” (LOL). It didn’t help that I didn’t know a soul there. Oh, other than the boy who lived next door to me who gave me the creeps. We had moved in the summer between my 6th and 7th grade year, so I hadn’t had time to make any friends other than a girl who lived down the street, but she was a year younger than me, so she was still in grammar school.
While I was standing in line waiting to get Rachel’s schedule and gym clothes, I couldn’t help but think how so many of the girls coming in looked so much older than Rachel. She still seems like such a little kid to me. I know that she isn’t, she is growing up, but compared to so many other girls…with boobs, makeup…even highlighted hair and acrylic fingernails…she is still a little girl. She still plays with American Girl dolls and Polly Pockets! And so many of the girls I saw today…well, I can’t imagine them playing with Polly Pockets. While Rachel was in sweaty ponytails after a day at 6 Flags, they were girls fussing with their styled hair, putting on lip gloss, and checking out boys. I am not ready for Rachel to be checking out boys at the age of 11!
I couldn’t help it…I wanted to get the hell out of there. I wanted to take Rachel by the hand, leave, and tell her I was going to home school her!
I didn’t have this reaction when Lauren started middle school. But then Lauren has always seemed more grown up. Her birthday just missed the cutoff, so she has always been one of the older ones in her class. And Lauren is so self confident…sure of who she is….and doesn’t really much care what other people think of her. She dresses the way she wants, wears her hair the way she wants, does the things she wants, and really doesn’t worry about what anyone thinks of her. Rachel, though…Rachel is more like me. In some ways at least.
She’s definitely more social than I have ever been. I was always quiet and shy, and those two words never have been and never will be used to describe my last born child. But, she is just like me in other ways. She is sensitive and takes to heart things people say to her. Her feelings are easily hurt. I swear, it’s like she has the best of Tony (her outgoing social ways) and the worst of me (her sensitivity).
But that is who she is. And that combination just doesn’t seem like it will fare well in middle school. She wants everyone to like her, worries about what kids think, wants to fit in…worries about having the “right” clothes…and all I could think about when I was in the Mary Emily Bryan Middle School gym today was my BABY walking through the halls of middle school feeling the way I did when I first walked the halls of Kirby Junior High. Those were not good years for me, and I sometimes think that things that happened then shaped many of the feelings I have about myself, that I try so hard to overcome.
This post isn’t about me, though. It’s about Rachel and how I dread her going to middle school. The thought of this bubbly sweet (oh so very sweet!) child of mine feeling like she doesn’t fit in, or wishing she were invisible, is heart wrenching for me. I worry that when she has times where she feels less than adequate, or when she is dealing with the girl dramas that I know are coming, that I won’t be able to help her through them or be able to say the “right” things that will enable her to come out of them with her self esteem intact.
I am also dreading the ways that she might change in the next three years. Right now, she is still a little girl. She still comes to me crying when she hurts herself. She wants to snuggle with me on the couch when we watch tv. She hugs me when she gets up in the morning and before she goes to bed at night. She wants to be with me all the time, help me cook, watch me iron, play games, play with my hair…right now, she is still my little girl.
And I know that she won’t be much longer.
Lauren has blossomed in middle school. She has “come out of her shell.” Middle school has been really good for her. I pray that the pressures of middle school don’t change Rachel…don’t change (or crush) her sweet spirit…don’t change who she fundamentally is.
But mostly, I pray that whatever challenges Rachel faces in middle school, that I have the wisdom to help her through them, that my own self esteem issues don’t get in the way. I pray that she will come to me and LET me help her face them.
Finally, I pray that she blossoms in middle school. That she feels free to be her silly, sweet self. At this moment, she is snuggled under a quilt on the couch in the family room. She is almost asleep. She looks so innocent and peaceful. Her thumb is in her mouth. Yeah, she still sucks her thumb sometimes when she sleeps.
It's so hard for me to imagine that in only a few days, she may be walking the halls of a new school feeling as I did in 1975.
I pray she doesn’t.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
I just returned from my long-anticipated trip to Maine. And what a trip it was! I don’t know if I will adequately be able to put into words just how wonderful it really was, and how much it meant to me, but I’m going to try.
Over the past few months, I have looked so forward to this trip for several reasons, the main one simply being that I was going to be spending time with a dear friend I don’t get to see often enough. Other reasons are harder to explain, but like I said, I will try!
We are friends brought together by tragedy…the death of her daughter. If not for that, we would never have met. That thought is always hovering in the back of my mind, but it has been even more so lately. I traveled to Maine for her oldest daughter’s wedding, a wedding that her daughter who died would have been an integral part of... should have been an integral part of.
I know a friend is no substitute for a daughter, but since her daughter wasn’t there, I wanted to be. Needed to be. That may sound silly, but I felt this desire to be a part of this special time in Barb’s life. In the weeks leading up to the wedding, while I was counting the days until my trip, I was also thinking about how much I wished that her daughter were there…even though if she were, I wouldn’t be. Such a vicious circle, one whose never-ending path I have traveled around too often.
Another reason I looked so forward to the trip is that I love spending time with Barb’s family. I love all of them almost as much as I love her. They are always so welcoming to me when I am there and make me feel as if I am part of the family. I can relax and be myself around them and they don’t think I’m silly or weird. Well, maybe they do at times, but if they do, they hide it well! I never feel as if I have to try to be someone or something I’m not.
This past week was no exception. I don’t think I have ever been more comfortable around a friend’s family or in a friend’s home. Not only her kids and husband, but even her extended family and her friends, who I had not met before. Everyone, from her neighbors to her brother and sisters to her father and in laws were so kind to me. Her father even took me out to dinner with the entire family. To be included in her family get togethers meant so much to me. More than I can say. While I usually feel really nervous and unsure of myself around people I don’t know, those feelings quickly disappeared because everyone was so friendly, kind and welcoming. I never felt as if I was in the way, or as if I shouldn’t be there. I felt as if I was right where I should be and I’m so very glad I went. This trip was just what I needed.
I feel incredibly lucky and so very blessed to have not only Barb, but her family as well, in my life. And it was so hard to leave. I was missing my own family, who I had never been away from for so long, yet I also felt like I was leaving family when it was time to go home—each time I leave, it is harder to do.
I truly enjoyed every moment of my time there. (Even the times I know Barb thinks I didn’t!) I loved helping with last minute wedding preparations. I enjoyed hanging out and chatting with her kids. Going out for ice cream. Doing just nothing. My last day there was bittersweet…we finally had some time to ourselves, took a drive, went out to lunch…it was a beautiful day, the perfect way to end the week, though it was laced with a touch of sadness that we can’t do those things more often. I wish my friend and her family who have all come to mean so much to me weren’t so far away. But, I have some great memories to tide me over until the next visit…it was a week I know I won’t soon forget.
Over the past few months, I have looked so forward to this trip for several reasons, the main one simply being that I was going to be spending time with a dear friend I don’t get to see often enough. Other reasons are harder to explain, but like I said, I will try!
We are friends brought together by tragedy…the death of her daughter. If not for that, we would never have met. That thought is always hovering in the back of my mind, but it has been even more so lately. I traveled to Maine for her oldest daughter’s wedding, a wedding that her daughter who died would have been an integral part of... should have been an integral part of.
I know a friend is no substitute for a daughter, but since her daughter wasn’t there, I wanted to be. Needed to be. That may sound silly, but I felt this desire to be a part of this special time in Barb’s life. In the weeks leading up to the wedding, while I was counting the days until my trip, I was also thinking about how much I wished that her daughter were there…even though if she were, I wouldn’t be. Such a vicious circle, one whose never-ending path I have traveled around too often.
Another reason I looked so forward to the trip is that I love spending time with Barb’s family. I love all of them almost as much as I love her. They are always so welcoming to me when I am there and make me feel as if I am part of the family. I can relax and be myself around them and they don’t think I’m silly or weird. Well, maybe they do at times, but if they do, they hide it well! I never feel as if I have to try to be someone or something I’m not.
This past week was no exception. I don’t think I have ever been more comfortable around a friend’s family or in a friend’s home. Not only her kids and husband, but even her extended family and her friends, who I had not met before. Everyone, from her neighbors to her brother and sisters to her father and in laws were so kind to me. Her father even took me out to dinner with the entire family. To be included in her family get togethers meant so much to me. More than I can say. While I usually feel really nervous and unsure of myself around people I don’t know, those feelings quickly disappeared because everyone was so friendly, kind and welcoming. I never felt as if I was in the way, or as if I shouldn’t be there. I felt as if I was right where I should be and I’m so very glad I went. This trip was just what I needed.
I feel incredibly lucky and so very blessed to have not only Barb, but her family as well, in my life. And it was so hard to leave. I was missing my own family, who I had never been away from for so long, yet I also felt like I was leaving family when it was time to go home—each time I leave, it is harder to do.
I truly enjoyed every moment of my time there. (Even the times I know Barb thinks I didn’t!) I loved helping with last minute wedding preparations. I enjoyed hanging out and chatting with her kids. Going out for ice cream. Doing just nothing. My last day there was bittersweet…we finally had some time to ourselves, took a drive, went out to lunch…it was a beautiful day, the perfect way to end the week, though it was laced with a touch of sadness that we can’t do those things more often. I wish my friend and her family who have all come to mean so much to me weren’t so far away. But, I have some great memories to tide me over until the next visit…it was a week I know I won’t soon forget.
Friday, July 10, 2009
I'm often amazed at the seemingly innocent things I come across that turn me into a puddle of tears. Maybe I'm just more emotional than normal after my family weekend last week...
I was just catching up on Facebook, and read this post from my aunt written to her daughter:
HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABYDOLL!!!!!!! Love you bunches, Momma
Sigh...as soon as I read it, I could feel the tears welling up, and even though I tried to stop them...it didn't work.
How can this woman be my mom's sister, my mom who virtually ignores my birthday. And why is a birthday such a big deal anyway? And why do I feel like the world's biggest baby for even writing this?
I'm trying hard to keep this blog positive, not a place to whine, but that is just how I am feeling today. Whiney.
I was just catching up on Facebook, and read this post from my aunt written to her daughter:
HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABYDOLL!!!!!!! Love you bunches, Momma
Sigh...as soon as I read it, I could feel the tears welling up, and even though I tried to stop them...it didn't work.
How can this woman be my mom's sister, my mom who virtually ignores my birthday. And why is a birthday such a big deal anyway? And why do I feel like the world's biggest baby for even writing this?
I'm trying hard to keep this blog positive, not a place to whine, but that is just how I am feeling today. Whiney.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Doing Time
This morning, I was awake early...what's new there...and started watching a movie on Lifetime Movie Network. My favorite past time when I'm awake before anyone should be. It was a movie about a family who on the outside seemed like the perfect family...the dad owned a restaurant, the mom stayed home and took care of her family. One of the sons had gone to Yale. He was the perfect, golden child. While they seemed perfect on the outside, things were far from perfect.
Turns out the parents were extremely controlling and critical. Nothing was good enough for them except for the son who went to Yale. One son was an alcoholic and his dad told him at one point that every time he looked at him, he was thankful he had another son. The daughter was married to a man who the dad looked down upon because he didn't make enough money. This same daughter was going to have an abortion without even telling her husband she was pregnant because she was so afraid of what her parents would think of her having a baby before she and her husband were financially secure enough to afford a baby. The son who went to Yale...turns out he was gay, and he decided that his parents would be better off if he were dead rather than know he was gay, so he tried to kill himself by running his car into a telephone pole.
Their perfect little world came crashing around them after the son tried to committ suicide, and he decided to tell his parents and everyone else why. Then, the husband of the sister told her he'd found out she was going to have an abortion. She told him she didn't really want to have an abortion, but she couldn't handle facing her parents. He told her in so many words that she needed to stop living her life trying to please her parents...that he was not one of her parents, that she had done her time...
I know this was a fictional movie, but it has haunted me all day. As someone who has very controlling parents, as someone who has spent most of my life trying to please them but always falling short...I can't stop thinking about the daughter's husband telling her, "You've done your time."
So...I've done my time.
But how do I stop doing more time? How do I stop trying to please them, when I haven't been able to in 46 years? What makes me think I'm going to all of the sudden click on some switch that is going to reverse things?
The movie I watched this morning had a happy ending. The dad made ammends with the alcoholic son who felt his father didn't love him. He made the son who was gay promise he would never try to kill himself again...he told him that he could learn to deal with his son being gay, but he couldn't deal with his son being dead. He said it would kill him.
Unfortunately, I don't think real life necessarily has such neat and tidy happy endings.
But, oh how I wish it did.
Turns out the parents were extremely controlling and critical. Nothing was good enough for them except for the son who went to Yale. One son was an alcoholic and his dad told him at one point that every time he looked at him, he was thankful he had another son. The daughter was married to a man who the dad looked down upon because he didn't make enough money. This same daughter was going to have an abortion without even telling her husband she was pregnant because she was so afraid of what her parents would think of her having a baby before she and her husband were financially secure enough to afford a baby. The son who went to Yale...turns out he was gay, and he decided that his parents would be better off if he were dead rather than know he was gay, so he tried to kill himself by running his car into a telephone pole.
Their perfect little world came crashing around them after the son tried to committ suicide, and he decided to tell his parents and everyone else why. Then, the husband of the sister told her he'd found out she was going to have an abortion. She told him she didn't really want to have an abortion, but she couldn't handle facing her parents. He told her in so many words that she needed to stop living her life trying to please her parents...that he was not one of her parents, that she had done her time...
I know this was a fictional movie, but it has haunted me all day. As someone who has very controlling parents, as someone who has spent most of my life trying to please them but always falling short...I can't stop thinking about the daughter's husband telling her, "You've done your time."
So...I've done my time.
But how do I stop doing more time? How do I stop trying to please them, when I haven't been able to in 46 years? What makes me think I'm going to all of the sudden click on some switch that is going to reverse things?
The movie I watched this morning had a happy ending. The dad made ammends with the alcoholic son who felt his father didn't love him. He made the son who was gay promise he would never try to kill himself again...he told him that he could learn to deal with his son being gay, but he couldn't deal with his son being dead. He said it would kill him.
Unfortunately, I don't think real life necessarily has such neat and tidy happy endings.
But, oh how I wish it did.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Memories...Part 1
I just returned this afternoon from a weekend visit to my hometown. I don't go there often since my parents no longer live there, but I love it there and do wish we could go more often. We had a really nice time...it was the first time in years that Tony, the kids and I were all there for an entire weekend. Usually, we go for quick trips, me and a few kids, for weddings, funerals, etc.
This weekend, I was sort of looking forward to it, sort of dreading it. I went for a family reunion my youngest brother organized. He was hoping for some family "fence mending" and had invited several people who have been on the outskirts of the family for many years. So I was dreading it for that reason, because I was unsure of how it would all turn out, and I don't like not knowing how things are going to turn out! I was looking forward to it because I don't get to see my brother that often, and I really enjoy spending time with him and his family. My sister and her family were staying there too, and we don't often spend time together.
I also had plans to get together on Saturday morning with an old friend of mine from college. Kellie and I became good friends our freshman year, and even though she quit going to college and got married when I went away for my junior year, we remained close for many years. Then I moved to Omaha, then St. Louis, and as we both got older, had kids, life got in the way, and we didn't see each other as often, but always made sure we sent Christmas and birthday cards, and I would usually try to see her when I was in town visiting my parents. Since my parents moved away from there, I hadn't seen her in probably 8 or 9 years, and I was really looking forward to seeing her and meeting her fiance.
So, while I'm drained right now, physically and emotionally, I want to write about my weekend while it's fresh in my mind, but I don't think I'm to my normal rambling self. I'll keep the highlights short and sweet but I may need to revisit some things another time.
*driving into Olney is always such a bittersweet moment, driving in past the lake where Aunt Mary lived...I always feel a pang of missing her as we drive over the little bridge. I can look to the right and see the back of her house, close my eyes and imagine Uncle Dan at the end of the dock fishing. I can imagine me as a little girl sitting at a picnic table in the back yard eating Aunt Mary's yummy food. I can remember her 1950's white formica topped table with gold flecks in it and silver legs...I always want to turn off the highway onto the gravel lane that leads to her house, but I never do unless I'm by myself because Tony doesn't "get" why I want to go there. I don't either, really.
*three of the family members I was worrying about attending the reunion did not show up. A part of me felt relieved by that, but another part wishes that our family could heal so many past hurts. While it was awkward at the beginning, but the time everyone was packing up their lawn chairs and coolers, there were many hugs and tears and promises that we must do this again.
*while it was wonderful to see the family who did show up, it was so strange being there with my cousins who I grew up spending so much time with...summers at the lake, Christmases at my grandparents...one of my cousins (who is younger than me!) is a grandparent! How did THAT happen??? And I'd never even met his granddaughter, who is 4. My cousins kids showed up with spouses and boyfriends I had never met. One cousin has a little girl I'd never met. So while it WAS fun to see everyone, it was all laced with a bit of sadness for all that has happened that tore us apart. And the REALLY sad thing is that it had nothing to with us (with me, my sister, my brother, or my cousins) but with our parents who cut each other out of their lives, leaving all of us cousins unable, or maybe just unsure of how to continue to have a family relationship.
*I had a great time getting together with Kellie. While I was on my way to the restaurant, I was so nervous, wondering what we would have to say to each other after so much time had gone by, but it really was like we'd seen each other only a few months ago. We reminisced about old times, probably boring her fiance silly, shared pictures of our kids, talked about what is going on our lives now, jobs, her wedding in 2 weeks...we packed a lot into an hour and a half! The only negative...when I was getting out of the car to go into the restaurant, in the pouring down rain, I accidentally locked the keys in the car. My poor husband...I had to call him, and he spent nearly 2 hours trying to break into our car so we wouldn't have to call a locksmith on a holiday. He was not too happy with me, that's for sure.
*as I usually always do when I'm in Olney, I drive by our old house and the homes where my 2 grandmothers lived. Again, such wonderful memories come to mind...raking leaves into huge piles and jumping in them in Grandma Kieffer's yard, feeding the white squirrels in my grandma Fulk's yard...sitting in rocking chairs on Grandma Fulk's patio...so many more, too many to list her.
*when I drove by Grandma Kieffer's house, I was glad to see that someone new seems to have bought it and is really making it look beautiful from the outside. They have put up a porch railing on the huge wrap around porch that reminds me of the one I've seen in pictures from when it was newly built in the late 1800's. I'm not crazy about the blue siding, but then it's not my house! LOL Every time I see that house, I have to admit, I almost get a little pissed off, thinking how *I* would make that house look if it were mine...I'd have ferns hanging around the porch, white wicker swings, pots of flowers....white lattice under the porch...it never looks the way I imagine it. Today, I noticed there are banners hanging in several places around the porch announcing the arrival of a new baby boy. That gave me a good feeling (the last owner was an older man)...a new generation will hopefully grow up in that house that holds so many memories for me.
Sigh...I'd like to write more about my weekend, but I don't think I can right now.
This weekend, I was sort of looking forward to it, sort of dreading it. I went for a family reunion my youngest brother organized. He was hoping for some family "fence mending" and had invited several people who have been on the outskirts of the family for many years. So I was dreading it for that reason, because I was unsure of how it would all turn out, and I don't like not knowing how things are going to turn out! I was looking forward to it because I don't get to see my brother that often, and I really enjoy spending time with him and his family. My sister and her family were staying there too, and we don't often spend time together.
I also had plans to get together on Saturday morning with an old friend of mine from college. Kellie and I became good friends our freshman year, and even though she quit going to college and got married when I went away for my junior year, we remained close for many years. Then I moved to Omaha, then St. Louis, and as we both got older, had kids, life got in the way, and we didn't see each other as often, but always made sure we sent Christmas and birthday cards, and I would usually try to see her when I was in town visiting my parents. Since my parents moved away from there, I hadn't seen her in probably 8 or 9 years, and I was really looking forward to seeing her and meeting her fiance.
So, while I'm drained right now, physically and emotionally, I want to write about my weekend while it's fresh in my mind, but I don't think I'm to my normal rambling self. I'll keep the highlights short and sweet but I may need to revisit some things another time.
*driving into Olney is always such a bittersweet moment, driving in past the lake where Aunt Mary lived...I always feel a pang of missing her as we drive over the little bridge. I can look to the right and see the back of her house, close my eyes and imagine Uncle Dan at the end of the dock fishing. I can imagine me as a little girl sitting at a picnic table in the back yard eating Aunt Mary's yummy food. I can remember her 1950's white formica topped table with gold flecks in it and silver legs...I always want to turn off the highway onto the gravel lane that leads to her house, but I never do unless I'm by myself because Tony doesn't "get" why I want to go there. I don't either, really.
*three of the family members I was worrying about attending the reunion did not show up. A part of me felt relieved by that, but another part wishes that our family could heal so many past hurts. While it was awkward at the beginning, but the time everyone was packing up their lawn chairs and coolers, there were many hugs and tears and promises that we must do this again.
*while it was wonderful to see the family who did show up, it was so strange being there with my cousins who I grew up spending so much time with...summers at the lake, Christmases at my grandparents...one of my cousins (who is younger than me!) is a grandparent! How did THAT happen??? And I'd never even met his granddaughter, who is 4. My cousins kids showed up with spouses and boyfriends I had never met. One cousin has a little girl I'd never met. So while it WAS fun to see everyone, it was all laced with a bit of sadness for all that has happened that tore us apart. And the REALLY sad thing is that it had nothing to with us (with me, my sister, my brother, or my cousins) but with our parents who cut each other out of their lives, leaving all of us cousins unable, or maybe just unsure of how to continue to have a family relationship.
*I had a great time getting together with Kellie. While I was on my way to the restaurant, I was so nervous, wondering what we would have to say to each other after so much time had gone by, but it really was like we'd seen each other only a few months ago. We reminisced about old times, probably boring her fiance silly, shared pictures of our kids, talked about what is going on our lives now, jobs, her wedding in 2 weeks...we packed a lot into an hour and a half! The only negative...when I was getting out of the car to go into the restaurant, in the pouring down rain, I accidentally locked the keys in the car. My poor husband...I had to call him, and he spent nearly 2 hours trying to break into our car so we wouldn't have to call a locksmith on a holiday. He was not too happy with me, that's for sure.
*as I usually always do when I'm in Olney, I drive by our old house and the homes where my 2 grandmothers lived. Again, such wonderful memories come to mind...raking leaves into huge piles and jumping in them in Grandma Kieffer's yard, feeding the white squirrels in my grandma Fulk's yard...sitting in rocking chairs on Grandma Fulk's patio...so many more, too many to list her.
*when I drove by Grandma Kieffer's house, I was glad to see that someone new seems to have bought it and is really making it look beautiful from the outside. They have put up a porch railing on the huge wrap around porch that reminds me of the one I've seen in pictures from when it was newly built in the late 1800's. I'm not crazy about the blue siding, but then it's not my house! LOL Every time I see that house, I have to admit, I almost get a little pissed off, thinking how *I* would make that house look if it were mine...I'd have ferns hanging around the porch, white wicker swings, pots of flowers....white lattice under the porch...it never looks the way I imagine it. Today, I noticed there are banners hanging in several places around the porch announcing the arrival of a new baby boy. That gave me a good feeling (the last owner was an older man)...a new generation will hopefully grow up in that house that holds so many memories for me.
Sigh...I'd like to write more about my weekend, but I don't think I can right now.
Friday, July 3, 2009
A walk down memory lane...
And I'm not sure it's going to be a pleasant walk.
In a couple of hours, we are heading to Olney for the weekend for a family reunion. While I'm excited to see some cousins and other family members I haven't seen in years, my brother Rick is going to be there. I haven't seen him since 1982.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Black cloud, please go away!
For nearly six months, I plodded through life, doing what needed to be done, feeling like I had a black cloud hanging over me, my house, and my family….or like PigPen, surrounded by a dirt cloud. No matter what I was doing, even something fun, that black cloud was there, stealing my joy. I would catch myself thinking…how can I be having FUN right now when our future is so precarious? I often wake up in the middle of the night unable to go back to sleep, and my first thought was always, “My husband has no job! What is going to happen to us?! Where will we live when we lose our house???!!”
I really did try…and try hard…to find the positive side of everything. Several times over those scary months, people often told me how well I was holding up, how they would have fallen apart. They may not have seen me fall apart, but I certainly did, numerous times in fact. I’m not proud to admit that, but I did.
So…Tony is finishing up his second week at his new job. He got his first paycheck today. His first pay check in nearly 6 months! I wanted to kiss it! And I thought to myself, “it’s really real…the Hell of the last 6 months is coming to an end!” It’s funny, because even though he’s been working at the zoo for two weeks, I still had this thought in the back of my mind that I wouldn’t really believe it until I saw a paycheck.
Today, I finally saw the paycheck, but for some reason, I still feel like that ugly black cloud is there.
Throughout this whole ordeal, I told myself that once he got a job, things were going to be different. I was no longer going to worry about some of the stupid, petty stuff that I often worry about. I thought that once he got a job, all of my problems would be magically solved, and I would walk around on a cloud of sunshine without a care in the world.
So, why has that not happened? Why do I worry now more than I ever did?
Maybe I am too cynical now. I keep waiting for the ball to drop…every time Tony calls me during the day, it’s almost like I’m expecting him to say, “oh, they told me today it was all a mistake, they meant to hire someone else.”
I am afraid to spend money on anything other than food and the other things that I have to pay if I want to continue having a house to live in and a car to drive. For the past 6 months, we have lived on the bare minimum….nothing frivolous from the grocery store, no new clothes or shoes for the kids unless they were absolutely needed, no new books for me (which was TOUGH let me tell you!).
Then yesterday, I bought a skirt at Kohl’s. It was cheap…$13. I didn’t “need” it, that’s for sure, but I wanted it. Several years ago, I bought a white eyelet skirt at Penney’s and I loved that thing, wore it all the time, until I caught it on a sharp corner at work last summer and ripped a huge hole in it. And this summer, I have missed wearing that skirt. So, yesterday I was in Kohl’s and found a cute white skirt and bought it. Two months ago, I would not have bought the skirt.
So there is a point to this skirt story…I felt so guilty after I bought that skirt. When I got home, I didn’t take the bag out of the car because I had pretty much talked myself into taking it back. I was so mad at myself for spending $13 on a skirt that I didn’t need. I really felt like something horrible was going to happen as a result of me being frivolous. I kept asking myself, “Have you not learned anything the past 6 months??” It sounds ridiculous, but I had this huge fear that because I spent money on a skirt, that something else awful was going to happen…I imagined a huge car repair, or our house air conditioner quitting…all because I bought a stupid skirt.
This afternoon, I went to Michaels to buy supplies for the cupcakes Rachel wants to make for her birthday. They are just cupcakes, but they have these cute little flowers made from candy melts. I bought 3 colors of the melts (white, yellow and lavender) and squeeze bottles to put them in. And yellow gel color for the frosting. Again, the guilt…I should not be spending money on something so silly as flowers for the tops of cupcakes!
Again, that dark cloud hovering there…right after I left Michaels, Tony called. When I saw on caller id that it was him, I was afraid to answer…
And now for the biggie…
I am going to Maine in a few weeks. I shouldn’t have spent the money. I bought the plane ticket before Tony had a job. I didn’t take anything out of our account, I used money I made selling some things I no longer need, but I feel guilty anyway. I feel like something awful is going to happen because I spent money on a plane ticket. I think all sorts of awful things…the plane is going to crash, something horrible is going to happen to someone in my family while I am gone…I worry so much that I have a hard time even being excited about going.
SIGH.
So, when is this pessimistic cloud going to leave me in peace and go away?
I really did try…and try hard…to find the positive side of everything. Several times over those scary months, people often told me how well I was holding up, how they would have fallen apart. They may not have seen me fall apart, but I certainly did, numerous times in fact. I’m not proud to admit that, but I did.
So…Tony is finishing up his second week at his new job. He got his first paycheck today. His first pay check in nearly 6 months! I wanted to kiss it! And I thought to myself, “it’s really real…the Hell of the last 6 months is coming to an end!” It’s funny, because even though he’s been working at the zoo for two weeks, I still had this thought in the back of my mind that I wouldn’t really believe it until I saw a paycheck.
Today, I finally saw the paycheck, but for some reason, I still feel like that ugly black cloud is there.
Throughout this whole ordeal, I told myself that once he got a job, things were going to be different. I was no longer going to worry about some of the stupid, petty stuff that I often worry about. I thought that once he got a job, all of my problems would be magically solved, and I would walk around on a cloud of sunshine without a care in the world.
So, why has that not happened? Why do I worry now more than I ever did?
Maybe I am too cynical now. I keep waiting for the ball to drop…every time Tony calls me during the day, it’s almost like I’m expecting him to say, “oh, they told me today it was all a mistake, they meant to hire someone else.”
I am afraid to spend money on anything other than food and the other things that I have to pay if I want to continue having a house to live in and a car to drive. For the past 6 months, we have lived on the bare minimum….nothing frivolous from the grocery store, no new clothes or shoes for the kids unless they were absolutely needed, no new books for me (which was TOUGH let me tell you!).
Then yesterday, I bought a skirt at Kohl’s. It was cheap…$13. I didn’t “need” it, that’s for sure, but I wanted it. Several years ago, I bought a white eyelet skirt at Penney’s and I loved that thing, wore it all the time, until I caught it on a sharp corner at work last summer and ripped a huge hole in it. And this summer, I have missed wearing that skirt. So, yesterday I was in Kohl’s and found a cute white skirt and bought it. Two months ago, I would not have bought the skirt.
So there is a point to this skirt story…I felt so guilty after I bought that skirt. When I got home, I didn’t take the bag out of the car because I had pretty much talked myself into taking it back. I was so mad at myself for spending $13 on a skirt that I didn’t need. I really felt like something horrible was going to happen as a result of me being frivolous. I kept asking myself, “Have you not learned anything the past 6 months??” It sounds ridiculous, but I had this huge fear that because I spent money on a skirt, that something else awful was going to happen…I imagined a huge car repair, or our house air conditioner quitting…all because I bought a stupid skirt.
This afternoon, I went to Michaels to buy supplies for the cupcakes Rachel wants to make for her birthday. They are just cupcakes, but they have these cute little flowers made from candy melts. I bought 3 colors of the melts (white, yellow and lavender) and squeeze bottles to put them in. And yellow gel color for the frosting. Again, the guilt…I should not be spending money on something so silly as flowers for the tops of cupcakes!
Again, that dark cloud hovering there…right after I left Michaels, Tony called. When I saw on caller id that it was him, I was afraid to answer…
And now for the biggie…
I am going to Maine in a few weeks. I shouldn’t have spent the money. I bought the plane ticket before Tony had a job. I didn’t take anything out of our account, I used money I made selling some things I no longer need, but I feel guilty anyway. I feel like something awful is going to happen because I spent money on a plane ticket. I think all sorts of awful things…the plane is going to crash, something horrible is going to happen to someone in my family while I am gone…I worry so much that I have a hard time even being excited about going.
SIGH.
So, when is this pessimistic cloud going to leave me in peace and go away?
Friday, June 12, 2009
June 11, my birthday
No, this isn't about my actual birthday day. It's about some connections that I can't decide if they are just coincidental or not.
I should preface this by saying that I really don't believe in coincidences the way most people do. I believe that things we think are coincidental really aren't...they are things that have always been meant to be, things we have been waiting for all along even if we didn't know we were waiting for it.
I often think about a song that was popular when I was in college...One Thing Leads to Another. I don't remember who sang it, or many of the specific words, but I remember it was a catchy tune. LOL
I digressed. I tend to do that when I am writing.
So back to the point of this post. I read a blog regularly that is written by a Share group leader, Share of Southern Vermont. Cara Tyrell. She's a wonderful writer. I met her in person when she attended our trainging workshop for new group leaders back in March. I love her blog. One of the tag lines of her blog is "Connections Abound.
Why yes. They do.
Five years ago, I started working for Share after nearly 2 years of being a volunteer. I was nervous as hell when I accepted the job, and nearly didn't accept the job. But, I did, and a few weeks later, due to a twist of fate, met the best friend I have ever had. We became fast friends, often talking on aol instant messaging into the wee hours of the morning. Now, after 5 years, 4 in person get togethers, and more than can be counted crises...we are best friends in every way we can be even though we live 1000 miles apart.
So, back to the topic...Connections Abound...
My friend and I made an instant connection. After 3 years, she told me her daughter's due date. June 11, 2002. I was shocked...that is MY birthday. I still marvel sometimes that my best friend's daughter's due date was on my birthday.
Over the past couple of years, I have also become friends with someone else through Share. And I noticed recently that her daughter died on my best friend's daughter's due date. And my birthday. June 11.
Another connection...this past March, when we had our training, someone came from Vermont. She is absolutely wonderful, and is a new Share gro
Sunday, June 7, 2009
I'm almost afraid to write this...aftraid I will jinx it if I put my relief into written words. Tony got the job at the zoo. I still can't believe it. It's been a little more than 48 hours since he was called and offered the job. 48 hours of relief. 2 nights of peaceful sleep. (Well, really only one night of peaceful sleep since Friday night I had to pick Brandon up from work at 2 am!)
I'm having a hard time believing it's really real. I don't know if I will until the first day he goes to work there.
I can't even write anything else about it right now. So I'm not even going to try. Maybe another day.
Switching topics...Brandon's high school graduation was yesterday. What a wonderful day, but I really didn't think I'd be as emotional as I was. Honestly, after what a struggle it's always been for us with him and school...until yesterday, I had just been feeling relief, profound relief, that he finished high school and was graduating. Mom and I were even talking about that very thing as we were in the Family Arena waiting for it all to start. I told her how so many people I knew with kids graduating were having a hard time dealing with it, but *I* wasn't. I may have even sounded a bit proud about not having a hard time dealing with him graduating.
No sooner were the words out of my mouth when Pomp and Circumstance began. And so did the tears.
Pomp and Circumstance played for a long time. (It takes a long time for over 400 kids to file in.) And it is not easy to hide tears from your very unemotional husband who is sitting on one side of you and your mother who is sitting on the other side, who just listened to you telling her that you weren't having a hard time at all with your child graduating. LOL I sat there wondering if anyone would think it was strange if I put on sunglasses. And wishing Brandon's graduation was on the football field as mine had been so no one would think I was odd for putting on sunglasses.
This mom who was not emotional about high school graduation sat there remembering his first day of kindergarten so very vividly...I even remember what he was wearing on his first day of kindergarten...I kept thinking about how fast time passes. One second, he's a screaming newborn, making me a mom for the first time, the next, he's holding and cuddling his newborn baby brother, the next, he's going off to kindergarten, then middle school, then high school....time sped by faster than I wanted it to.
Now, he's an adult. He's 18. He has a job. He's out of high school. He wants to join the National Guard. How did that all happen, seemingly overnight? He's maturing and becoming more independent. And isn't that the goal of parenthood? Raising a tiny, helpless newborn who squeezes your finger when you place it in the palm of his hand as if he's hanging on for dear life and gazes into your eyes with such love into a man who can think for himself and make his own decisions? That's the goal, isn't it?
Why does reaching your goal as a parent have to be not only the most rewarding but the most difficult milestone to reach?
I'm having a hard time believing it's really real. I don't know if I will until the first day he goes to work there.
I can't even write anything else about it right now. So I'm not even going to try. Maybe another day.
Switching topics...Brandon's high school graduation was yesterday. What a wonderful day, but I really didn't think I'd be as emotional as I was. Honestly, after what a struggle it's always been for us with him and school...until yesterday, I had just been feeling relief, profound relief, that he finished high school and was graduating. Mom and I were even talking about that very thing as we were in the Family Arena waiting for it all to start. I told her how so many people I knew with kids graduating were having a hard time dealing with it, but *I* wasn't. I may have even sounded a bit proud about not having a hard time dealing with him graduating.
No sooner were the words out of my mouth when Pomp and Circumstance began. And so did the tears.
Pomp and Circumstance played for a long time. (It takes a long time for over 400 kids to file in.) And it is not easy to hide tears from your very unemotional husband who is sitting on one side of you and your mother who is sitting on the other side, who just listened to you telling her that you weren't having a hard time at all with your child graduating. LOL I sat there wondering if anyone would think it was strange if I put on sunglasses. And wishing Brandon's graduation was on the football field as mine had been so no one would think I was odd for putting on sunglasses.
This mom who was not emotional about high school graduation sat there remembering his first day of kindergarten so very vividly...I even remember what he was wearing on his first day of kindergarten...I kept thinking about how fast time passes. One second, he's a screaming newborn, making me a mom for the first time, the next, he's holding and cuddling his newborn baby brother, the next, he's going off to kindergarten, then middle school, then high school....time sped by faster than I wanted it to.
Now, he's an adult. He's 18. He has a job. He's out of high school. He wants to join the National Guard. How did that all happen, seemingly overnight? He's maturing and becoming more independent. And isn't that the goal of parenthood? Raising a tiny, helpless newborn who squeezes your finger when you place it in the palm of his hand as if he's hanging on for dear life and gazes into your eyes with such love into a man who can think for himself and make his own decisions? That's the goal, isn't it?
Why does reaching your goal as a parent have to be not only the most rewarding but the most difficult milestone to reach?
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Next Year
Where will we be in 6 months...in a year...I wish I had a crystal ball I could gaze into and SEE where we will be. Maybe then, I would stop thinking to myself a thousand times a day, every time I say something that assumes we will be here in this house in the future "wait, maybe we WON'T do that next summer." I'm tired of thinking that.
Today, I was in the backyard with Lauren. She was digging weeds out of the garden. It's a pretty paltry garden, containing one tomato plant, one rhubarb plant, and a few struggling strawberry plants, donated by Mom. The strawberry plants really need their own raised bed, but Tony didn't have the materials to build another one. This afternoon, I told Lauren that next year, he would need to build another along the back fence for the tomatoes and other plants so the strawberries could have their own.
Next year.
The next door neighbor was out opening his pool. Tony told him he had considered taking ours down as the kids don't use it much, and that he probably will next year.
Next year.
Later, I was on the swing, and Tony noticed a board on one of the steps coming down from the deck was rotting. He told me that he had noticed a few others, too. And he said that next year, we will have to replace the flooring of the deck.
Next year.
Something I have said many times and never given it a second thought that there may not BE a next year.
Today, I was in the backyard with Lauren. She was digging weeds out of the garden. It's a pretty paltry garden, containing one tomato plant, one rhubarb plant, and a few struggling strawberry plants, donated by Mom. The strawberry plants really need their own raised bed, but Tony didn't have the materials to build another one. This afternoon, I told Lauren that next year, he would need to build another along the back fence for the tomatoes and other plants so the strawberries could have their own.
Next year.
The next door neighbor was out opening his pool. Tony told him he had considered taking ours down as the kids don't use it much, and that he probably will next year.
Next year.
Later, I was on the swing, and Tony noticed a board on one of the steps coming down from the deck was rotting. He told me that he had noticed a few others, too. And he said that next year, we will have to replace the flooring of the deck.
Next year.
Something I have said many times and never given it a second thought that there may not BE a next year.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Fingers crossed
Last night, I cried. Really cried. It wasn't the first time I've cried in the past 5 months, but it WAS the first time I really LET myself cry. Without trying to make myself stop. Always, I try to make myself stop, afraid of where I will end up if I don't.
Why did I let myself cry last night?
It was a long night. I did chat, and while it was a good chat, I was in the chatroom until 11. I was on the couch, laptop on my lap, falling asleep, that's how long I was in there. 3 hours. I finally told everyone I had to leave. I was exhausted, and Brandon was getting off work at 1:30. AM. I needed to sleep for a few hours before I had to go pick him up. I was afraid to go to bed, because I was afraid I wouldn't get up. So Tony said he would set the alarm, I was going to fall asleep on the couch, and he would come downstairs and wake me when the alarm went off.
So I settled in on the couch with a quilt, and Tony went out to his car because he remembered he left his cell phone in it. He wanted to keep his phone by the bed in case Brandon called to tell us he got off early. I was keeping the house phone on the table next to the couch for the same reason.
So to the reason why I cried last night...
He came in the family room, where I was comfy on the couch, falling asleep, and said, "I need to call in the morning to confirm the time, but the zoo called and wants me to come for a second interview Thursday morning." Then he went up to bed.
And I lay there on the couch, crying...crying out all of the pent up, held back tears of the past five months. The tears of frustration. The tears of fear. I know it's only a second interview, there are two others in the running besides Tony, he's had second interviews before that amounted to nothing, but there I lay on my couch, crying, pleading with God to PLEASE let this be the job he gets. PLEASE. It's not just "A", any old job...it's a job that is perfect for him, he is excited about the thought of working there...and, he needs a job. That's what it all comes down to, HE. NEEDS. A. JOB. We need for him to have a job.
So, tomorrow morning at 9:30, he has the interview. Not really an interview in the normal sense...he has to go in and meet all of the people who will be working for him if he gets the job. I guess the purpose of this is to see how compatible he is with those he would supervise. He has said several times the person who interviewed him really seems to like him. We've had our hopes up so many times the past few months, though.
But I really hope this is it. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that it is. I don't know if I will be able to take it if he doesn't get this job.
I still have such a hard time believing sometimes that this is our life...that Tony has been unemployed for 5 months. That WE have become part of the statistics everyone reads about and hears about.
How did this happen? And how will this end?
Why did I let myself cry last night?
It was a long night. I did chat, and while it was a good chat, I was in the chatroom until 11. I was on the couch, laptop on my lap, falling asleep, that's how long I was in there. 3 hours. I finally told everyone I had to leave. I was exhausted, and Brandon was getting off work at 1:30. AM. I needed to sleep for a few hours before I had to go pick him up. I was afraid to go to bed, because I was afraid I wouldn't get up. So Tony said he would set the alarm, I was going to fall asleep on the couch, and he would come downstairs and wake me when the alarm went off.
So I settled in on the couch with a quilt, and Tony went out to his car because he remembered he left his cell phone in it. He wanted to keep his phone by the bed in case Brandon called to tell us he got off early. I was keeping the house phone on the table next to the couch for the same reason.
So to the reason why I cried last night...
He came in the family room, where I was comfy on the couch, falling asleep, and said, "I need to call in the morning to confirm the time, but the zoo called and wants me to come for a second interview Thursday morning." Then he went up to bed.
And I lay there on the couch, crying...crying out all of the pent up, held back tears of the past five months. The tears of frustration. The tears of fear. I know it's only a second interview, there are two others in the running besides Tony, he's had second interviews before that amounted to nothing, but there I lay on my couch, crying, pleading with God to PLEASE let this be the job he gets. PLEASE. It's not just "A", any old job...it's a job that is perfect for him, he is excited about the thought of working there...and, he needs a job. That's what it all comes down to, HE. NEEDS. A. JOB. We need for him to have a job.
So, tomorrow morning at 9:30, he has the interview. Not really an interview in the normal sense...he has to go in and meet all of the people who will be working for him if he gets the job. I guess the purpose of this is to see how compatible he is with those he would supervise. He has said several times the person who interviewed him really seems to like him. We've had our hopes up so many times the past few months, though.
But I really hope this is it. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that it is. I don't know if I will be able to take it if he doesn't get this job.
I still have such a hard time believing sometimes that this is our life...that Tony has been unemployed for 5 months. That WE have become part of the statistics everyone reads about and hears about.
How did this happen? And how will this end?
Saturday, May 23, 2009
An (almost) normal day
It almost seemed like any other late spring, close to summer Saturday. Almost. The house was stifling, so we reluctantly turned on the air conditioner, as we do every year at this time.
I cleaned and did laundry. Tony and the boys did some yard work and picked up pool chemicals. He doesn't want to open the pool this year, as money is so tight, but the kids have all given up so much...and if we don't open the pool, what will they do all summer?
The kids played outside. I made Angel Ball bracelets. I went grocery shopping and bought the ingredients to make potato salad for dinner tomorrow. Tony picked up pizza for dinner tonight. (has to be our cheapest dinner ever...one pizza free from Papa Johns with a coupon, and another, $5, from Little Caesars. So two pizzas for $5. Can't beat that!) . Cardinals baseball was on tv. There is a small white cardboard box of freshly picked strawberries from Theis Farm sitting on my kitchen counter, waiting to be sliced and frozen. The kids (and me of course!) have been washing and eating strawberries all day. I looked up recipes online for strawberry bread.
It seemed like any other Saturday in any other May.
But it's not.
As I went about my day, doing the things that I normally would do on a beautiful spring Saturday, just the kind of weather I have been patiently, or not so patiently waiting for all winter, I couldn't help but think that while this SEEMED like a typical Saturday, it is far from that. So very far.
It's been almost 5 months now since Tony lost his job. I would never in a million years have imagined in my worst nightmares that he still wouldn't have a job. Well, he IS working, but it's a temporary job, no benefits, so while there is money coming in, it's just not the same. It has given me some relief, but there is still that nagging fear in the back of my mind...that fear of what is going to happen to us if he doesn't get a job soon.
Every time I find myself with a little bit of joy or happiness, as I did today, I quickly am brought back to reality...and I think "My husband doesn't have a JOB!! How can I be happy or joyous for even a moment?" Sigh.... Then a moment later, I think that I need to take whatever moments of happiness and joy I can get. Right?
This just sucks. I wanted to be able to enjoy, really enjoy, this beautiful spring day.
I cleaned and did laundry. Tony and the boys did some yard work and picked up pool chemicals. He doesn't want to open the pool this year, as money is so tight, but the kids have all given up so much...and if we don't open the pool, what will they do all summer?
The kids played outside. I made Angel Ball bracelets. I went grocery shopping and bought the ingredients to make potato salad for dinner tomorrow. Tony picked up pizza for dinner tonight. (has to be our cheapest dinner ever...one pizza free from Papa Johns with a coupon, and another, $5, from Little Caesars. So two pizzas for $5. Can't beat that!) . Cardinals baseball was on tv. There is a small white cardboard box of freshly picked strawberries from Theis Farm sitting on my kitchen counter, waiting to be sliced and frozen. The kids (and me of course!) have been washing and eating strawberries all day. I looked up recipes online for strawberry bread.
It seemed like any other Saturday in any other May.
But it's not.
As I went about my day, doing the things that I normally would do on a beautiful spring Saturday, just the kind of weather I have been patiently, or not so patiently waiting for all winter, I couldn't help but think that while this SEEMED like a typical Saturday, it is far from that. So very far.
It's been almost 5 months now since Tony lost his job. I would never in a million years have imagined in my worst nightmares that he still wouldn't have a job. Well, he IS working, but it's a temporary job, no benefits, so while there is money coming in, it's just not the same. It has given me some relief, but there is still that nagging fear in the back of my mind...that fear of what is going to happen to us if he doesn't get a job soon.
Every time I find myself with a little bit of joy or happiness, as I did today, I quickly am brought back to reality...and I think "My husband doesn't have a JOB!! How can I be happy or joyous for even a moment?" Sigh.... Then a moment later, I think that I need to take whatever moments of happiness and joy I can get. Right?
This just sucks. I wanted to be able to enjoy, really enjoy, this beautiful spring day.
Friday, May 22, 2009
I’m on my porch. In my favorite Cracker Barrel rocking chair (that needs sanding and a fresh coat of paint or stain). My feet are propped up on the railing. It’s a chilly yet sunny spring day in mid May. As I sit here, I realize that lately I have had a "heightened awareness" of so many things that I’ve taken so much for granted over the years about our home that I love. This is the home that I’ve brought all but one of my children from the hospital to. This is really the only home that any of my children has known.
Sad that it’s taken us close to losing it for me to appreciate, REALLY appreciate every little thing about it. And some not so little things. I find myself thinking of these things often nowadays, and I feel compelled to write about them.
The not so little things I love first:
--my front porch. It’s always been my favorite thing about this house. When we were looking for a house, I had to have a porch, and I wouldn’t have bought a house without one. I have always loved this porch. When we first moved in and I was hugely pregnant with Justin, I put a folding lawn chair on the porch the day we moved in. I had a good excuse, my doctor told me to! I had been on bed rest, and he said I could get out of bed long enough to sit in a lawn chair and tell everyone what to do. LOL And I did…that chair wasn’t the prettiest thing, but it was somewhere for me to sit. We had no trees yet, no flowers, but I still loved my porch. And I still do.
On the first halfway warm morning of spring, I’m out there with my cup of coffee. And I am out there until the bitter end in the fall, usually in slippers, flannel pj pants, sweatshirts, and sometimes even a blanket. I always dread giving up my mornings on the porch for 4 or 5 months, and I squeeze out every last drop of enjoyment I can get before winter arrives. When the weather is nice, not only is it my place to begin the day, but it’s where I unwind with a book or magazine and a cup of tea after work. On summer evenings, I bring a lamp from the house out to the porch, maybe a glass of wine, always a book, and I can sit for hours reading by lamplight. My porch is where I spent countless hours watching my kids play in the sprinkler/learn to ride bikes/play whiffle ball/draw with sidewalk chalk/blow bubbles and more when they were small and couldn’t be outside alone. My porch is where I went in the evening when Rachel was a screaming newborn who was strangely comforted just by being outside in the fresh air.
I’ve always tried to make my porch a into a welcoming place with cushions on the rocking chairs, hanging pots overflowing with colorful flowers and potted ferns, citronella candles to keep away the mosquitos…many evenings, years ago when the kids were young and I was always on the porch, most of the neighborhood was young families like ours, and neighbors and friends out for a walk would stop by my porch for a chat and a glass of wine. Sigh…I miss those days. I don’t know if I was fully aware of how lucky I was and how grateful I should be, and I really feel sad about that now. Sad that I may have taken that all for granted.
--my sunny cheerful kitchen. Where many cookies have been baked, blobs of food have been thrown from high chairs, play doh sculptures have been created, and millions of crumbs have been swept from it’s floor. The list of special times in this kitchen would be endless if I tried to write them all. The island has been covered in everything from gooey pumpkin innards to glue and glitter and Sharpie marker to science projects to homemade cinnamon roll dough. It’s white surface has been bleached and scrubbed of stains too numerous to recall. It’s been decorated for every season and holiday…always with a season-appropriate candle in the center…pumpkin spice in the fall, pine (or something else that smells like a real live Christmas tree) in December, vanilla, cinnamon, or something comforting and homey in the winter, and something fresh and fruity in the summer. One of my favorite times of the day has always been at night when the kitchen is cleaned of the day’s messes, the dishwasher is humming away, and a candle is burning. My other favorite time of day to be in my kitchen is in the morning before anyone is awake, when the sun is coming up, the house is quiet and coffee is brewing. I have a perfect view of the sunrise from the kitchen window. Sometimes, I even take pictures of the sunrise, but probably not often enough.
Now for the little things, because they are just as important as the big things, and I seem to be noticing these little, seemingly insignificant things, even more lately. I go about the chores of running a household with a different mind frame these days. Yes, I still grumble and complain, but at the same time, I have an appreciation for them that I don’t think I have had before.
~Last Saturday morning, I was cleaning my bathroom. I had the window open even though it was too chilly for that, but I wanted fresh air in the house, chilly or not. After all, it IS spring, right? It was also quite breezy, (a nice way of saying it was cold and blustery!) and the white curtains were blowing and flapping at the window, and while I was wiping the tub and sink and toilet, I thought to myself how much I love the look (and sound) of crisp white cotton curtains blowing in the spring breeze.
~I love my porch swing on the patio under the deck. One year, I don’t remember the exact one, Tony bought me a porch swing for Mother’s Day and my birthday. Unfortunately, while I dream about a huge Southern-style verandah with room for wicker swings piled with colorful cushions, and tables and chairs, porches that you can sit out on in the windiest of thunderstorms and still play games or read…that’s not the kind of porch I have. I love it anyway, but our porch really isn’t big enough for a swing, so it hangs under the back deck. I have spent many hours in that swing, passing the time reading in the shade during the hot days of St. Louis summers while watching the kids swim. I have spent many hours in the cool evenings when I wanted a more peaceful quiet spot than my front porch to read or talk on the phone at night. I love sitting on the swing, surrounded by the flowers that are always in the flower beds around my patio and hanging from it’s rafters. Most summers, the beds around the patio are spilling over with impatiens, my favorite annual, in shades of pink and red and white.
~This morning, I was mopping my kitchen floor. Such a mundane, not fun task, especially on a humid May morning when your air conditioner isn’t running yet. I remember nearly 5 years ago when Tony took on the project of converting our builders grade (aka LOW quality) white vinyl kitchen floor that I could no longer get completely clean into a beautiful ceramic tile floor. I remember the weeks of our kitchen floor being not a floor at all, but a beautiful taupe-colored backer board that was always covered with dog hair, because it was textured and I really couldn’t sweep it. I remembered the days of the kitchen appliances residing in the dining room. I remember crawling around on my hands and knees helping Tony grout the tile. I remember taking all kinds of pictures of my kitchen once my beautiful floor was finished.
While I was mopping and sweating and remembering all of this, I was also wondering, once again, if at the time I really appreciated what I had. Sadly, I don’t think I did.
Why does it take a crisis to make you sit up and take notice of all the blessings you have?
Sad that it’s taken us close to losing it for me to appreciate, REALLY appreciate every little thing about it. And some not so little things. I find myself thinking of these things often nowadays, and I feel compelled to write about them.
The not so little things I love first:
--my front porch. It’s always been my favorite thing about this house. When we were looking for a house, I had to have a porch, and I wouldn’t have bought a house without one. I have always loved this porch. When we first moved in and I was hugely pregnant with Justin, I put a folding lawn chair on the porch the day we moved in. I had a good excuse, my doctor told me to! I had been on bed rest, and he said I could get out of bed long enough to sit in a lawn chair and tell everyone what to do. LOL And I did…that chair wasn’t the prettiest thing, but it was somewhere for me to sit. We had no trees yet, no flowers, but I still loved my porch. And I still do.
On the first halfway warm morning of spring, I’m out there with my cup of coffee. And I am out there until the bitter end in the fall, usually in slippers, flannel pj pants, sweatshirts, and sometimes even a blanket. I always dread giving up my mornings on the porch for 4 or 5 months, and I squeeze out every last drop of enjoyment I can get before winter arrives. When the weather is nice, not only is it my place to begin the day, but it’s where I unwind with a book or magazine and a cup of tea after work. On summer evenings, I bring a lamp from the house out to the porch, maybe a glass of wine, always a book, and I can sit for hours reading by lamplight. My porch is where I spent countless hours watching my kids play in the sprinkler/learn to ride bikes/play whiffle ball/draw with sidewalk chalk/blow bubbles and more when they were small and couldn’t be outside alone. My porch is where I went in the evening when Rachel was a screaming newborn who was strangely comforted just by being outside in the fresh air.
I’ve always tried to make my porch a into a welcoming place with cushions on the rocking chairs, hanging pots overflowing with colorful flowers and potted ferns, citronella candles to keep away the mosquitos…many evenings, years ago when the kids were young and I was always on the porch, most of the neighborhood was young families like ours, and neighbors and friends out for a walk would stop by my porch for a chat and a glass of wine. Sigh…I miss those days. I don’t know if I was fully aware of how lucky I was and how grateful I should be, and I really feel sad about that now. Sad that I may have taken that all for granted.
--my sunny cheerful kitchen. Where many cookies have been baked, blobs of food have been thrown from high chairs, play doh sculptures have been created, and millions of crumbs have been swept from it’s floor. The list of special times in this kitchen would be endless if I tried to write them all. The island has been covered in everything from gooey pumpkin innards to glue and glitter and Sharpie marker to science projects to homemade cinnamon roll dough. It’s white surface has been bleached and scrubbed of stains too numerous to recall. It’s been decorated for every season and holiday…always with a season-appropriate candle in the center…pumpkin spice in the fall, pine (or something else that smells like a real live Christmas tree) in December, vanilla, cinnamon, or something comforting and homey in the winter, and something fresh and fruity in the summer. One of my favorite times of the day has always been at night when the kitchen is cleaned of the day’s messes, the dishwasher is humming away, and a candle is burning. My other favorite time of day to be in my kitchen is in the morning before anyone is awake, when the sun is coming up, the house is quiet and coffee is brewing. I have a perfect view of the sunrise from the kitchen window. Sometimes, I even take pictures of the sunrise, but probably not often enough.
Now for the little things, because they are just as important as the big things, and I seem to be noticing these little, seemingly insignificant things, even more lately. I go about the chores of running a household with a different mind frame these days. Yes, I still grumble and complain, but at the same time, I have an appreciation for them that I don’t think I have had before.
~Last Saturday morning, I was cleaning my bathroom. I had the window open even though it was too chilly for that, but I wanted fresh air in the house, chilly or not. After all, it IS spring, right? It was also quite breezy, (a nice way of saying it was cold and blustery!) and the white curtains were blowing and flapping at the window, and while I was wiping the tub and sink and toilet, I thought to myself how much I love the look (and sound) of crisp white cotton curtains blowing in the spring breeze.
~I love my porch swing on the patio under the deck. One year, I don’t remember the exact one, Tony bought me a porch swing for Mother’s Day and my birthday. Unfortunately, while I dream about a huge Southern-style verandah with room for wicker swings piled with colorful cushions, and tables and chairs, porches that you can sit out on in the windiest of thunderstorms and still play games or read…that’s not the kind of porch I have. I love it anyway, but our porch really isn’t big enough for a swing, so it hangs under the back deck. I have spent many hours in that swing, passing the time reading in the shade during the hot days of St. Louis summers while watching the kids swim. I have spent many hours in the cool evenings when I wanted a more peaceful quiet spot than my front porch to read or talk on the phone at night. I love sitting on the swing, surrounded by the flowers that are always in the flower beds around my patio and hanging from it’s rafters. Most summers, the beds around the patio are spilling over with impatiens, my favorite annual, in shades of pink and red and white.
~This morning, I was mopping my kitchen floor. Such a mundane, not fun task, especially on a humid May morning when your air conditioner isn’t running yet. I remember nearly 5 years ago when Tony took on the project of converting our builders grade (aka LOW quality) white vinyl kitchen floor that I could no longer get completely clean into a beautiful ceramic tile floor. I remember the weeks of our kitchen floor being not a floor at all, but a beautiful taupe-colored backer board that was always covered with dog hair, because it was textured and I really couldn’t sweep it. I remembered the days of the kitchen appliances residing in the dining room. I remember crawling around on my hands and knees helping Tony grout the tile. I remember taking all kinds of pictures of my kitchen once my beautiful floor was finished.
While I was mopping and sweating and remembering all of this, I was also wondering, once again, if at the time I really appreciated what I had. Sadly, I don’t think I did.
Why does it take a crisis to make you sit up and take notice of all the blessings you have?
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
So I finally made myself a blog!
I've been thinking about it for quite some time, but the computer illiterate gal in me was afraid to attempt such a thing. Who knows if I will ever share it with anyone, but even if I don't, it's a good way for me to get the sometimes (or usually!) crazy, scattered thoughts that are in my head...OUT of my head. I also have been thinking a blog would be a great way to chronicle this journey we've been on for the past nearly 5 months...this journey of joblessness. I wish I had started it from the beginning like I wanted to because I would have a good "record" of where we've been the past few months...the good, the bad, the ugly and the downright scary.
I couldn't even begin to recap it all in one post, but I will say, the past four months have been full of good, bad, ugly, and way too much scary, beginning with January 5, 2009...the day my husband lost his job. I'm trying to not think about or focus on the bad and the ugly and the scary, only the good. But, sometimes, I'm ashamed to admit, the others get the best of me. Thankfully, have a few really amazing people in my life who keep me focused on the good things.
It is my hope that I can keep this blog focused on the good things. While I may vent and shed a few tears here, I don't want it to be a place to whine and complain.
And with that, I'm now going to go out with my son for yet another driving lesson. There is a whole 'nother thing to chronicle!
I've been thinking about it for quite some time, but the computer illiterate gal in me was afraid to attempt such a thing. Who knows if I will ever share it with anyone, but even if I don't, it's a good way for me to get the sometimes (or usually!) crazy, scattered thoughts that are in my head...OUT of my head. I also have been thinking a blog would be a great way to chronicle this journey we've been on for the past nearly 5 months...this journey of joblessness. I wish I had started it from the beginning like I wanted to because I would have a good "record" of where we've been the past few months...the good, the bad, the ugly and the downright scary.
I couldn't even begin to recap it all in one post, but I will say, the past four months have been full of good, bad, ugly, and way too much scary, beginning with January 5, 2009...the day my husband lost his job. I'm trying to not think about or focus on the bad and the ugly and the scary, only the good. But, sometimes, I'm ashamed to admit, the others get the best of me. Thankfully, have a few really amazing people in my life who keep me focused on the good things.
It is my hope that I can keep this blog focused on the good things. While I may vent and shed a few tears here, I don't want it to be a place to whine and complain.
And with that, I'm now going to go out with my son for yet another driving lesson. There is a whole 'nother thing to chronicle!
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