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.
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