the story of kids,chaos, mothering challenges and sometimes chocolate
Thursday, October 27, 2011
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: silent epidemic,part two
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: silent epidemic,part two: I have heard this a million times, "they are going to drink anyway so I am just going to let them do it at our house." Really now? My sec...
silent epidemic,part two
I have heard this a million times, "they are going to drink anyway so I am just going to let them do it at our house." Really now?
My second favorite, "they are going to have sex anyway, so, why not here?"
Are you kidding me? Seriously?
If you knew that giving a kid a beer or a cigarette would make them addicted, would you give it to him?
How about this one, "I know they are all going to try cocaine so I went and got it for them to try here." Chances are you wouldn't buy the cocaine so why buy the beer? Or the Pot?
When we were kids, my cousin S was about 13 and in middle school. I was 11, my cousin J was 10, my brother was 7 and my other cousin was about 5. My grandmother sat us around the pool and said,"you kids are getting older and going to middle school and stuff and people are going to want you to smoke cigarettes. So, have your first with me. My oldest cousin gagged. So did I. So did the other two cousins. My 7 year old brother blew smoke rings.
We have told this story 100000 times over the years and really, what the hell was mamaw thinking?
Never, ever, ever, does an addict or a smoker wake up and say, "this is the day I become an alcoholic or this is the day I get so addicted to smoking that I am going to die later of lung cancer."
What the hell is wrong with the parents who lock a bunch of underage kids in a room and let them drink, smoke pot and have sex all night? Seriously. Do they ever say, "know you are broke and don't like to work so take my keys and go rob a bank?"
And, what is wrong the people who harbor runaways for days and weeks and never call the parents? After the "button" had runaway in April, apparently he lived with a family for about fifteen days. The mother never called, nothing. After he was gone from there and came back home, she called me. Never identified herself. But, she had my number. She called to tell me that she thought the "button" had stolen something from her. "Really, and you had my number this whole time and I didn't hear from you." "No", she replied. "Well then, you reap what you sow" and I hung up.
Two years ago when the "button" began his running away or sneaking out, he was supposed to be at work. Franklin just happened to go to the store where he worked. He didn't show up at work, our car was there, unlocked with his apron in it. Yes, we did what everybody would have done, we panicked. I showed up where all the kids "hang out" and asked if anyone had seen him or knew where he was. "Oh, no, have no I idea...haven't seen him, don't know where he is, we will call you if you see him...blah blah blah."
Well, I waited and stood behind a column and sure enough, here comes the "button" to hang out with this group at the eatery. We live in a tourist destination. I can assure you that what happened next is not in the tourism video. Remember, I have no idea where my kid is and have no idea if he is in the back of a van on his way to Venezuela to become a sex slave or if he is even safe. The mother lioness was angry. I burst into the eatery and there they all were, laughing at me. I went bizerk. While I don't remember everything, I explained to those kids that someday, someone very near and dear to them will be missing or their whereabouts not known and they will have the pit in their stomachs that I had and I sincerely hope that NO ONE will ever treat them the way I was just treated. And, as I passionately exclaimed, "Karma is a bitch, I can assure you." I wasn't mild mannered or soft spoken either. As I was stomping out in disgust, two elderly couples who were eating their banana splits, clapped.
Later, one of the kids mother, she called me. She didn't appreciate me yelling at her son. "Really, sorry to hear that. I didn't appreciate your son lying to me. I am an elder and he lied. Had he not lied, I wouldn't have yelled. Now, go have this conversation with your son."
The most frustrating part of this situation with "the button" has been the lies, the sneaking and the plotting. Not just him, all of his friends.
When I was in high school, I was on the swim team. My nails were soft. My dear friend and I split a bottle of gelatin capsules. We each got 100. We were going to have the greatest nails by the time school started. We were psyched.
One day, Mrs. C calls me and tells me to get to her house ASAP. I get there and she has a look on her face that would have frozen fire. She takes me back into the bedroom, sits me down beside J and the other daughter, MS, and she begins with how disappointed she was in us, she thought we were "good" girls and her heart was crushed. Seriously, we did not make eye contact and I knew I hadn't done anything but this woman was devastated. Then, she whipped out the bag. There they were, pink and lovely, all 100 of them...Gelatin capsules.
Luckily, we were in the clear. Sally Hansen fans with hard, lovely, long nails.
Even if they had been something else, I could never have lied to that woman. Never.
If one more person under the age of 20 lies to me, I will vomit on their feet.
Again, nobody talks about it.
Where is the character, the leadership and the kids who look at someone and say, "dude, you are in enough trouble, do you really think this is cool?"
Not all but a ton of the "button's" troubles came from sneaking out in the middle of the night. Franklin and I have been possums for two years, coming to life at night, especially Friday and Saturday. Just waiting for the get away around 2am. Isn't that what Red Bulls are for?
One morning, Franklin and I caught six kids (one being ours) sneaking back into our neighborhood at 6am ish...so, five kids to the "dipping" in the middle of the night. When we made them pull over and take the keys, "they were just driving around". Yeah, teenagers LOVE getting up that early for no reason to drive around. This wasn't even a GOOD lie.
Please do not misunderstand...I am not blaming ANYONE for my child's troubles.
What I am saying is we need less drugs, drinking and sneaking out. We need kids who are NOT CONSUMED WITH PARTYING. We need character and we need leadership. We need it quickly.
We need parents to start getting authentic and real and for them to be involved and to participate in their kids lives. "You cannot expect what you don't inspect."
Abe Lincoln or George Washington were both young men when they truths that made them honorable men. We need more gelatin capsules, cherry trees and pennies. Quickly.
My second favorite, "they are going to have sex anyway, so, why not here?"
Are you kidding me? Seriously?
If you knew that giving a kid a beer or a cigarette would make them addicted, would you give it to him?
How about this one, "I know they are all going to try cocaine so I went and got it for them to try here." Chances are you wouldn't buy the cocaine so why buy the beer? Or the Pot?
When we were kids, my cousin S was about 13 and in middle school. I was 11, my cousin J was 10, my brother was 7 and my other cousin was about 5. My grandmother sat us around the pool and said,"you kids are getting older and going to middle school and stuff and people are going to want you to smoke cigarettes. So, have your first with me. My oldest cousin gagged. So did I. So did the other two cousins. My 7 year old brother blew smoke rings.
We have told this story 100000 times over the years and really, what the hell was mamaw thinking?
Never, ever, ever, does an addict or a smoker wake up and say, "this is the day I become an alcoholic or this is the day I get so addicted to smoking that I am going to die later of lung cancer."
What the hell is wrong with the parents who lock a bunch of underage kids in a room and let them drink, smoke pot and have sex all night? Seriously. Do they ever say, "know you are broke and don't like to work so take my keys and go rob a bank?"
And, what is wrong the people who harbor runaways for days and weeks and never call the parents? After the "button" had runaway in April, apparently he lived with a family for about fifteen days. The mother never called, nothing. After he was gone from there and came back home, she called me. Never identified herself. But, she had my number. She called to tell me that she thought the "button" had stolen something from her. "Really, and you had my number this whole time and I didn't hear from you." "No", she replied. "Well then, you reap what you sow" and I hung up.
Two years ago when the "button" began his running away or sneaking out, he was supposed to be at work. Franklin just happened to go to the store where he worked. He didn't show up at work, our car was there, unlocked with his apron in it. Yes, we did what everybody would have done, we panicked. I showed up where all the kids "hang out" and asked if anyone had seen him or knew where he was. "Oh, no, have no I idea...haven't seen him, don't know where he is, we will call you if you see him...blah blah blah."
Well, I waited and stood behind a column and sure enough, here comes the "button" to hang out with this group at the eatery. We live in a tourist destination. I can assure you that what happened next is not in the tourism video. Remember, I have no idea where my kid is and have no idea if he is in the back of a van on his way to Venezuela to become a sex slave or if he is even safe. The mother lioness was angry. I burst into the eatery and there they all were, laughing at me. I went bizerk. While I don't remember everything, I explained to those kids that someday, someone very near and dear to them will be missing or their whereabouts not known and they will have the pit in their stomachs that I had and I sincerely hope that NO ONE will ever treat them the way I was just treated. And, as I passionately exclaimed, "Karma is a bitch, I can assure you." I wasn't mild mannered or soft spoken either. As I was stomping out in disgust, two elderly couples who were eating their banana splits, clapped.
Later, one of the kids mother, she called me. She didn't appreciate me yelling at her son. "Really, sorry to hear that. I didn't appreciate your son lying to me. I am an elder and he lied. Had he not lied, I wouldn't have yelled. Now, go have this conversation with your son."
The most frustrating part of this situation with "the button" has been the lies, the sneaking and the plotting. Not just him, all of his friends.
When I was in high school, I was on the swim team. My nails were soft. My dear friend and I split a bottle of gelatin capsules. We each got 100. We were going to have the greatest nails by the time school started. We were psyched.
One day, Mrs. C calls me and tells me to get to her house ASAP. I get there and she has a look on her face that would have frozen fire. She takes me back into the bedroom, sits me down beside J and the other daughter, MS, and she begins with how disappointed she was in us, she thought we were "good" girls and her heart was crushed. Seriously, we did not make eye contact and I knew I hadn't done anything but this woman was devastated. Then, she whipped out the bag. There they were, pink and lovely, all 100 of them...Gelatin capsules.
Luckily, we were in the clear. Sally Hansen fans with hard, lovely, long nails.
Even if they had been something else, I could never have lied to that woman. Never.
If one more person under the age of 20 lies to me, I will vomit on their feet.
Again, nobody talks about it.
Where is the character, the leadership and the kids who look at someone and say, "dude, you are in enough trouble, do you really think this is cool?"
Not all but a ton of the "button's" troubles came from sneaking out in the middle of the night. Franklin and I have been possums for two years, coming to life at night, especially Friday and Saturday. Just waiting for the get away around 2am. Isn't that what Red Bulls are for?
One morning, Franklin and I caught six kids (one being ours) sneaking back into our neighborhood at 6am ish...so, five kids to the "dipping" in the middle of the night. When we made them pull over and take the keys, "they were just driving around". Yeah, teenagers LOVE getting up that early for no reason to drive around. This wasn't even a GOOD lie.
Please do not misunderstand...I am not blaming ANYONE for my child's troubles.
What I am saying is we need less drugs, drinking and sneaking out. We need kids who are NOT CONSUMED WITH PARTYING. We need character and we need leadership. We need it quickly.
We need parents to start getting authentic and real and for them to be involved and to participate in their kids lives. "You cannot expect what you don't inspect."
Abe Lincoln or George Washington were both young men when they truths that made them honorable men. We need more gelatin capsules, cherry trees and pennies. Quickly.
Monday, October 24, 2011
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: The silent epidemic Part One
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: The silent epidemic Part One: When I got my driver's license, my mom was the happiest. I instantly became the gopher. Daily, I would go pher this and go phor that. One ...
The silent epidemic Part One
When I got my driver's license, my mom was the happiest. I instantly became the gopher. Daily, I would go pher this and go phor that. One of my daily rituals was to go to Fatura's Supermarket.
One particular day I had a list, remember no cell phones, an old fashioned list, usually the pad from the milk man. On the list was Baker's unsweetened baking chocolate, buttermilk (small size) and something else. And remember, no debit cards, always had to watch the money because she sent me with cash. Well this one day, I guess I wasn't my effervescent self because I was so worked up over the unsweetened baking squares that I didn't ooooze all over my mom's friend. I spoke, was obligatory but moved on. I finished the grocery trip and got home. What was waiting for me there was the Biggest ass reaming ever! Why? "I knew better, that was a reflection on the way I was raised, you always speak to an adult, you know that is my pet peeve and people expect more from you...blah blah blah." Seriously, I spoke to her. Blame it on the chocolate, sweetened, unsweetened and semi sweet. It can hang a girl up. I will never forget my mom and how upset she was about the incident. Translation, Kids need to be respectful of their elders.
For years now, I have been checking teenage wrestlers for ringworm. Now, in case you are not up on your wrestling, wrestlers get ringworm. Something about the bodies being pressed down on mats and that little worm popping up off the mat and unto a body. I personally think that if you ask someone to check their body ringworm, regardless of where it is, your relationship is on a new playing field. Just saying, it is me. Since the "incident" this summer, wrestlers sprint to get away from me. Seriously, you would think they are track stars, they sprint. These are mostly the same dudes that I spread their armpit hair to check for the worm. They sprint. When I mentioned it to the "button" he said, "Mom, they don't want to face YOU. YOU know what they have been up too." Hmmm, if my mom could get ahold of them....it would be something.
This spring, I discovered a little neighbor boy smoking pot in my backyard. Now imagine, I am Shrek, he is Pinocchio. I tell him, "caught you, don't do it again, you are too young to do this, and you surely are not doing it in my yard again, I am not going to tell your parents but if I catch you again, and now my radar is up, I will tell them. This is your mulligan, use it wisely". Seriously, I would have been afraid of me. I also would have built an underground tunnel so I never had to go by my house again.
What did he do? Great question. I came home one night, broad daylight, loud music BLARING from my house, neighbors milling about, my little kids upstairs and this kid, along with two of his friends and the "button" was smoking pot on my back porch. Yes, you read correctly.
To this day, if my mom says,"so and so is sick or died, send a card." The next day there is a Hallmark in the mail. I am afraid of my mom. My grandparents, even more afraid. My grandfather, who didn't say much, gave me great advice. "Live so that when you die, you will never be embarrassed by what you are doing when you went." Thirty-two years in the radio business, calling on strip clubs, never went. I could always see the headlines, "mother of three dies in strip club fire."
On the few occassions I have watched the trainwreck, Jersey Shore, I only thought of the grandparents. I am sure that Snookie's grandparents are apalled. There she is drunk, sucking face and rubbing uglies with some random drunk dude in a hot tub on television. I truly beleive that when she walked down the aisle at her First Communion in that white dress that her grandparents never envisioned her being famous for rubbing uglies in a drunken stupor on cable television.
When Facebook made a few changes, the entire Planet went crazy. Truth is, underage drinking is way up, binge drinking on campuses is so out of control that colleges are offering scholarships for abstinence from drinking, kids are smoking synthetic drugs and have kicked organic ones to the curb. Spice and Bath Salt abuse is also through the roof. Suicides are up as a result from Bath Salts. If you check into rehab and you have smoked Bath Salts, mandatory one year visit. Bath Salts and Spice are synthetic drugs, kinda of like smoking an empty milk jug. Seriously, a milk jug or a porch rocker. Teenage pregnancies are up and so are sexually transmitted diseases. All of this is up, especially in the younger ages and it isn't mentioned. Change Facebook and an entire Planet is in an uproar.
I too sat and watched the Amanda Knox verdict. Love that she is home on American soil. But I was stunned that nobody have ever really talked about the fact that there was a drug dealer involved. While I wasn't there, I don't think they were knitting that night in Italy. Still, nothing.
People have told me to get a grip, "we did the same thing when we were kids". Really, I am calling bullshit on this one. Yes, we had parties in fields, we smoked organic pot (I am pretty sure at this point my mother has passed out with what I just wrote) and we hid...we didn't want to shame our parents or OURSELVES. We didn't smoke milk jugs, inhale Pledge,drink cough syrup or snort medicine. And, I didn't have time or money to do any of this...my parents didn't provide anything but the bare necessities. I learned early that a bag of pot was a pair of shoes. Give me the shoes.
If a kid takes a car at 12 years old and drives, he is on You Tube and the news. The kid who smoked pot on my porch was 13 and nobody wants to talk. The swine flu breaks out and everybody wants a mask on their face. A mask on their face but no condoms.
We need to talk. We not to talk about Character and morals. We need to teach respect to elders and authority figures.
We need to talk to children. They may or may not listen. They may tune us out. Nobody goes home and says, "think I will listen to the radio tonight and learn some lyrics. It is a process. Over and over and over again. If you say it, they will lesson." And maybe they won't do what you taught them but you will feel better that you tried.
One particular day I had a list, remember no cell phones, an old fashioned list, usually the pad from the milk man. On the list was Baker's unsweetened baking chocolate, buttermilk (small size) and something else. And remember, no debit cards, always had to watch the money because she sent me with cash. Well this one day, I guess I wasn't my effervescent self because I was so worked up over the unsweetened baking squares that I didn't ooooze all over my mom's friend. I spoke, was obligatory but moved on. I finished the grocery trip and got home. What was waiting for me there was the Biggest ass reaming ever! Why? "I knew better, that was a reflection on the way I was raised, you always speak to an adult, you know that is my pet peeve and people expect more from you...blah blah blah." Seriously, I spoke to her. Blame it on the chocolate, sweetened, unsweetened and semi sweet. It can hang a girl up. I will never forget my mom and how upset she was about the incident. Translation, Kids need to be respectful of their elders.
For years now, I have been checking teenage wrestlers for ringworm. Now, in case you are not up on your wrestling, wrestlers get ringworm. Something about the bodies being pressed down on mats and that little worm popping up off the mat and unto a body. I personally think that if you ask someone to check their body ringworm, regardless of where it is, your relationship is on a new playing field. Just saying, it is me. Since the "incident" this summer, wrestlers sprint to get away from me. Seriously, you would think they are track stars, they sprint. These are mostly the same dudes that I spread their armpit hair to check for the worm. They sprint. When I mentioned it to the "button" he said, "Mom, they don't want to face YOU. YOU know what they have been up too." Hmmm, if my mom could get ahold of them....it would be something.
This spring, I discovered a little neighbor boy smoking pot in my backyard. Now imagine, I am Shrek, he is Pinocchio. I tell him, "caught you, don't do it again, you are too young to do this, and you surely are not doing it in my yard again, I am not going to tell your parents but if I catch you again, and now my radar is up, I will tell them. This is your mulligan, use it wisely". Seriously, I would have been afraid of me. I also would have built an underground tunnel so I never had to go by my house again.
What did he do? Great question. I came home one night, broad daylight, loud music BLARING from my house, neighbors milling about, my little kids upstairs and this kid, along with two of his friends and the "button" was smoking pot on my back porch. Yes, you read correctly.
To this day, if my mom says,"so and so is sick or died, send a card." The next day there is a Hallmark in the mail. I am afraid of my mom. My grandparents, even more afraid. My grandfather, who didn't say much, gave me great advice. "Live so that when you die, you will never be embarrassed by what you are doing when you went." Thirty-two years in the radio business, calling on strip clubs, never went. I could always see the headlines, "mother of three dies in strip club fire."
On the few occassions I have watched the trainwreck, Jersey Shore, I only thought of the grandparents. I am sure that Snookie's grandparents are apalled. There she is drunk, sucking face and rubbing uglies with some random drunk dude in a hot tub on television. I truly beleive that when she walked down the aisle at her First Communion in that white dress that her grandparents never envisioned her being famous for rubbing uglies in a drunken stupor on cable television.
When Facebook made a few changes, the entire Planet went crazy. Truth is, underage drinking is way up, binge drinking on campuses is so out of control that colleges are offering scholarships for abstinence from drinking, kids are smoking synthetic drugs and have kicked organic ones to the curb. Spice and Bath Salt abuse is also through the roof. Suicides are up as a result from Bath Salts. If you check into rehab and you have smoked Bath Salts, mandatory one year visit. Bath Salts and Spice are synthetic drugs, kinda of like smoking an empty milk jug. Seriously, a milk jug or a porch rocker. Teenage pregnancies are up and so are sexually transmitted diseases. All of this is up, especially in the younger ages and it isn't mentioned. Change Facebook and an entire Planet is in an uproar.
I too sat and watched the Amanda Knox verdict. Love that she is home on American soil. But I was stunned that nobody have ever really talked about the fact that there was a drug dealer involved. While I wasn't there, I don't think they were knitting that night in Italy. Still, nothing.
People have told me to get a grip, "we did the same thing when we were kids". Really, I am calling bullshit on this one. Yes, we had parties in fields, we smoked organic pot (I am pretty sure at this point my mother has passed out with what I just wrote) and we hid...we didn't want to shame our parents or OURSELVES. We didn't smoke milk jugs, inhale Pledge,drink cough syrup or snort medicine. And, I didn't have time or money to do any of this...my parents didn't provide anything but the bare necessities. I learned early that a bag of pot was a pair of shoes. Give me the shoes.
If a kid takes a car at 12 years old and drives, he is on You Tube and the news. The kid who smoked pot on my porch was 13 and nobody wants to talk. The swine flu breaks out and everybody wants a mask on their face. A mask on their face but no condoms.
We need to talk. We not to talk about Character and morals. We need to teach respect to elders and authority figures.
We need to talk to children. They may or may not listen. They may tune us out. Nobody goes home and says, "think I will listen to the radio tonight and learn some lyrics. It is a process. Over and over and over again. If you say it, they will lesson." And maybe they won't do what you taught them but you will feel better that you tried.
Monday, October 17, 2011
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: let's call this "fall semester"
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: let's call this "fall semester": Thursday and Friday I heard from the "button" via Facebook. Okay, I will take it. He's alive and still has fingers so we took this as a po...
let's call this "fall semester"
Thursday and Friday I heard from the "button" via Facebook. Okay, I will take it. He's alive and still has fingers so we took this as a positive sign.
More importantly, he wrote that he was tired of living "this way" and wanted to be "drug and alcohol free."
Yeah "button".
So, I started again on Friday searching for facilities.
I messaged him and heard nothing.
Then at 1:32am, my phone rang. Of course I answered it. Franklin and Walker were at Boy Scout camp and I was sure that Franklin rolled into the fire or Walker tripped over a tree stump.
"Stephanie?"
"yes"
"hey, it is me, Officer....."
Okay, how pathetic that you are on a first named basis with any cop that isn't related to you and they have your cell number?
The "button" was arrested for resisting arrest here in our hometown.
He is at "fall semester" and I am not sure when that "semester" will be over.
Good news? I guess. He is safe and unharmed. This is a rehab facility you cannot get kicked out.
Have I spoken to him? No. He has called. I have nothing that is very positive to say.
The irony? The first time he ever creeped out of the house and stayed out all night? Two years ago on a Friday night during the Boy Scout Camping Event.
Two years of drugs, alcohol, lies, inappropriate friend and inappropriate behavior, and heart wrenching bullshit.
Honestly, this second time around is WAY worse than the first.
So, Four months later, the hula hoop continues.
When his class comes home for Christmas break, tired from finals, the "button" MAY BE finished with his fall semester. Bet the curriculum is way different at his school.
More importantly, he wrote that he was tired of living "this way" and wanted to be "drug and alcohol free."
Yeah "button".
So, I started again on Friday searching for facilities.
I messaged him and heard nothing.
Then at 1:32am, my phone rang. Of course I answered it. Franklin and Walker were at Boy Scout camp and I was sure that Franklin rolled into the fire or Walker tripped over a tree stump.
"Stephanie?"
"yes"
"hey, it is me, Officer....."
Okay, how pathetic that you are on a first named basis with any cop that isn't related to you and they have your cell number?
The "button" was arrested for resisting arrest here in our hometown.
He is at "fall semester" and I am not sure when that "semester" will be over.
Good news? I guess. He is safe and unharmed. This is a rehab facility you cannot get kicked out.
Have I spoken to him? No. He has called. I have nothing that is very positive to say.
The irony? The first time he ever creeped out of the house and stayed out all night? Two years ago on a Friday night during the Boy Scout Camping Event.
Two years of drugs, alcohol, lies, inappropriate friend and inappropriate behavior, and heart wrenching bullshit.
Honestly, this second time around is WAY worse than the first.
So, Four months later, the hula hoop continues.
When his class comes home for Christmas break, tired from finals, the "button" MAY BE finished with his fall semester. Bet the curriculum is way different at his school.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: a letter and a text from a sister and brother
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: a letter and a text from a sister and brother: Yesterday, Addie presented me with a letter that she wants to send to "the button." Dear "button", I heard what you did. I miss you. ...
a letter and a text from a sister and brother
Yesterday, Addie presented me with a letter that she wants to send to "the button."
Dear "button",
I heard what you did. I miss you. I cry at night. Please stop the nonsense. You are ripping our family apart.
I do not know why you do these crazy things. I miss you. I told you one time but you did not care that when you were little you were nice and made good choices. I know that you can do this and make better choices. You are smart. Stop the nonsense. Get your act together. I love you.
And then, Walker took my phone. He saw the "button" listed under contacts. He sent a text. Below is the exchange.
"Button, it is me."
"wait, who?"
"this is Walker I thought you were the jerkiest (their term of enderament) brother. The coolest brother please come back."
"I don't have a brother. I am Jay. Who are you looking for?"
"Sorry. I thought this was my brother. He was in rehab and got kicked out. Excuse me Jay I am sure you are awesome. Do you know button?"
"I don't think I know a button."
"He was in rehab. Do you know his number? I'm his brother and I love him to death and I want to talk to him."
"Nah I don't but I let this dude use my phone at the bus stop last night."
"He has blue eyes and dark hair and he's very strong and young. Please write back."
"I'm sorry. I let some one use my phone at the bus stop. If I ever run into him I will let him know."
"okay you are so awesome. thank you so much. you are awesome. I love him."
This is the OTHER side of the pain from addiction.
Typically, I would NEVER share something so personal from my children. There is a chance that the "button" just might read this and I wanted him to know. This is the only reason I posted this.
The "button" is loved and adored by them.
He plays with them, cooks for them, coaches them, builds fires for them, takes them to the pool and they adore him. So much of their lives and what they have been exposed to, has been from him.
As much as Franklin and I try to proceed and be "normal", there is an ache.
And finally, lines from a letter from summer camp to Franklin and me..."I don't have a drinking problem, I did and I admit it but that part of my life is over. I need you guys, but, I understand if you do not want to help. Sorry I've put you through all this. I never should have left the house. You have to understand that I am different now."
Thirty five days in summer camp, forty-five days at the Land of Oz, and five days at home sober. Two nights out with "friends" and it is all shot to hell.
Two little kids missing their brother and I have to wonder, did anybody, any of those "friends" write a letter like hers or did any of his "friends" try and find him?
My letter and text to his friends,
Dear "friends",
My son has an illness. If he were a diabetic would you make him eat a barrel of candy corn? Please encourage him to get the help he needs. If you cannot encourage, leave him alone.
Thank you.
Dear "button",
I heard what you did. I miss you. I cry at night. Please stop the nonsense. You are ripping our family apart.
I do not know why you do these crazy things. I miss you. I told you one time but you did not care that when you were little you were nice and made good choices. I know that you can do this and make better choices. You are smart. Stop the nonsense. Get your act together. I love you.
And then, Walker took my phone. He saw the "button" listed under contacts. He sent a text. Below is the exchange.
"Button, it is me."
"wait, who?"
"this is Walker I thought you were the jerkiest (their term of enderament) brother. The coolest brother please come back."
"I don't have a brother. I am Jay. Who are you looking for?"
"Sorry. I thought this was my brother. He was in rehab and got kicked out. Excuse me Jay I am sure you are awesome. Do you know button?"
"I don't think I know a button."
"He was in rehab. Do you know his number? I'm his brother and I love him to death and I want to talk to him."
"Nah I don't but I let this dude use my phone at the bus stop last night."
"He has blue eyes and dark hair and he's very strong and young. Please write back."
"I'm sorry. I let some one use my phone at the bus stop. If I ever run into him I will let him know."
"okay you are so awesome. thank you so much. you are awesome. I love him."
This is the OTHER side of the pain from addiction.
Typically, I would NEVER share something so personal from my children. There is a chance that the "button" just might read this and I wanted him to know. This is the only reason I posted this.
The "button" is loved and adored by them.
He plays with them, cooks for them, coaches them, builds fires for them, takes them to the pool and they adore him. So much of their lives and what they have been exposed to, has been from him.
As much as Franklin and I try to proceed and be "normal", there is an ache.
And finally, lines from a letter from summer camp to Franklin and me..."I don't have a drinking problem, I did and I admit it but that part of my life is over. I need you guys, but, I understand if you do not want to help. Sorry I've put you through all this. I never should have left the house. You have to understand that I am different now."
Thirty five days in summer camp, forty-five days at the Land of Oz, and five days at home sober. Two nights out with "friends" and it is all shot to hell.
Two little kids missing their brother and I have to wonder, did anybody, any of those "friends" write a letter like hers or did any of his "friends" try and find him?
My letter and text to his friends,
Dear "friends",
My son has an illness. If he were a diabetic would you make him eat a barrel of candy corn? Please encourage him to get the help he needs. If you cannot encourage, leave him alone.
Thank you.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: keep your hands inside until the ride comes to a c...
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: keep your hands inside until the ride comes to a c...: Yesterday, around 3pm, I got a call from the treatment center. Apparently, "the button" and some patients at the treatment center decided...
keep your hands inside until the ride comes to a complete stop
Yesterday, around 3pm, I got a call from the treatment center.
Apparently, "the button" and some patients at the treatment center decided to have a party in the "button's room". No, they didn't eat pop tarts and play charades.
The was beer and alcohol.
The "button" was discharged from the treatment facility and I was asked to come and get him.
After the ups and the downs and the scary moments and those moments when you lose your stomach, I knew the ride had come to a complete stop.
I said, "please tell the button that we love him. We love him very much but we will no longer be the enablers of a negative life. We will only participate when the "button" participates in a positive manner. We love him very much."
The ride was over for me. And then my son was discharged into a city 90 minutes from here. No ride, no phone, nothing.
Was it the hardest thing I have ever done? No. I was calm and peaceful.
Never again am I going to sit up all night waiting for him and wondering.
I took Addie to her hip hop class and found myself in the car talking about the "button" while she was inside dancing. I hung up the phone and said "screw this, here is the next J.Lo in there dancing her heart out and you are missing this over a boy who doesn't care what you think." I went inside and watched the Hip Hop Harmony.
I told my kids that the "button" was kicked out because he didn't follow the rules, I didn't know where he was and if he was ever coming home again. The response from one was "he needs to follow the rules" and the other was, "he will never be home again."
The ride for me is over. I am not on it anymore. I am on a different ride. On this ride there are two little kids who have had stress, drugs, police, rehab, summer camp and running away shoved down their little throats. No more. The "button" never had it and he is not robbing them of anymore innocence.
What is so ironic is that we adopted him so he wouldn't have it in his life. Ugh.
The ride for the "button" is just starting. He is on the roller coaster alone. I cannot, Franklin cannot and the kids cannot help him any more. It is his ride.
May I mention that several of you commented privately about the lady saying that "I was the mom of the kid who got in all the trouble". I am not upset by this comment. I am. I am also the mother who decorated that courtyard at the festival, the mother of a champion wrestler, the mother of two great kids, with a happy marriage. I have much to celebrate. It didn't bother me. I am the mother of a child who is in a lot of trouble. This is a sad fact.
Am I devastated? No. Numb. I am numb. I feel like I fell into the dentist's Novocain cabinet. I am also pissed that all the stress is just making me look old and notknocking 25 pounds off me like it did when I went through my divorce. Damn, you would think I could lose my appetite.
Today is a new day. A new beginning. His ride is not over. He just got on. I just need to stand back behind the yellow line and pray until it comes to a complete stop.
Apparently, "the button" and some patients at the treatment center decided to have a party in the "button's room". No, they didn't eat pop tarts and play charades.
The was beer and alcohol.
The "button" was discharged from the treatment facility and I was asked to come and get him.
After the ups and the downs and the scary moments and those moments when you lose your stomach, I knew the ride had come to a complete stop.
I said, "please tell the button that we love him. We love him very much but we will no longer be the enablers of a negative life. We will only participate when the "button" participates in a positive manner. We love him very much."
The ride was over for me. And then my son was discharged into a city 90 minutes from here. No ride, no phone, nothing.
Was it the hardest thing I have ever done? No. I was calm and peaceful.
Never again am I going to sit up all night waiting for him and wondering.
I took Addie to her hip hop class and found myself in the car talking about the "button" while she was inside dancing. I hung up the phone and said "screw this, here is the next J.Lo in there dancing her heart out and you are missing this over a boy who doesn't care what you think." I went inside and watched the Hip Hop Harmony.
I told my kids that the "button" was kicked out because he didn't follow the rules, I didn't know where he was and if he was ever coming home again. The response from one was "he needs to follow the rules" and the other was, "he will never be home again."
The ride for me is over. I am not on it anymore. I am on a different ride. On this ride there are two little kids who have had stress, drugs, police, rehab, summer camp and running away shoved down their little throats. No more. The "button" never had it and he is not robbing them of anymore innocence.
What is so ironic is that we adopted him so he wouldn't have it in his life. Ugh.
The ride for the "button" is just starting. He is on the roller coaster alone. I cannot, Franklin cannot and the kids cannot help him any more. It is his ride.
May I mention that several of you commented privately about the lady saying that "I was the mom of the kid who got in all the trouble". I am not upset by this comment. I am. I am also the mother who decorated that courtyard at the festival, the mother of a champion wrestler, the mother of two great kids, with a happy marriage. I have much to celebrate. It didn't bother me. I am the mother of a child who is in a lot of trouble. This is a sad fact.
Am I devastated? No. Numb. I am numb. I feel like I fell into the dentist's Novocain cabinet. I am also pissed that all the stress is just making me look old and notknocking 25 pounds off me like it did when I went through my divorce. Damn, you would think I could lose my appetite.
Today is a new day. A new beginning. His ride is not over. He just got on. I just need to stand back behind the yellow line and pray until it comes to a complete stop.
Monday, October 10, 2011
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: Things my mother taught me
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: Things my mother taught me: My mom is your typical "mom"from the early sixties. Never formally educated, never took a cooking class and never had a "Mommy's Morning ou...
Things my mother taught me
These are some of the lessons she has taught me.
1. Be Clean
You don't have to be the best dressed or wear expensive anything, just be clean. Hair, shoes, nails, clothes, your butt, the whole nine yards. If I were to call my mom at 3am and awaken her from a deep sleep and ask her WHO we didn't like to sit BEHIND in church, she can tell you. "Smelled like old grease". Be clean.
2. Write Thank you notes
Appreciate what you have been given, a gift, a lunch, a dinner, an opportunity. Let that person know in writing that you appreciate it. It is a simple gesture that takes very little time but is ALWAYS appreciated.
3. Always clean your house before you go away
Coming back to a dirty house sucks. Clean it before you go. If you pick up every day, it will never be that bad. If company shows up, open up a bottle of acleaning supply, put it behind a door and your house smells clean. They won't know.
4. Bake
Your kids like sugar and are going to eat it. Get over it and control it. Bake. Your house will smell good and kids will love you.
5. Be the Popsicle House
Wanna know where your kids are? Keep Popsicles and they will never leave cause they are bringing kids with them. Candy corn is a winner too. Have food in your house and the kids will be there.
6. Be the Fun Mom, Sing out loud and Dance
I clearly remember my mother belting out "It's Too Late" by Carole King on our way home from Greensburg one day. I mean belting it out along with the radio. I was looking at her like "damn, my mom is fun". Every time I hear that song I can see her singing like she was on stage and how cool I thought she was at that moment. Participate in water battles, dance in the kitchen and crack your kids up. Participate in their lives. "You had "em, now have fun raising them".
7. Have good friends, GOOD being the Key word
My mom has lifetime friends, friends from primary school, friends from high school, neighbor friends, Friends. Good friends. My mom doesn't have "DRAMA MAMMA" friends. If my mom is your friend, you have a good friend. Take your friends seriously.
8. Random acts of kindness are the bomb
Participate in random acts of kindness. Give. You don't have to be rich to give, but you will be enriched if you give. Help, think of others and show them they can count on you. Be the kind of person to them that you would want to them to be to you.
9. Be prepared
Every year before Christmas, once I was a little older, Mom would tell me where the gifts were hidden in case she died. She always bought for us kids first, in case she died. She wrapped our gifts first, in case she died. She made our favorite cookies first and froze them, in case she died. Already in my bedroom closet, wrapped Christmas gifts, you guessed it, in case she dies. Plan ahead and if your plans get screwed up, you have time to come up with plan B.
10. Your kids come first so you better be listening to them.
She always told my brother and me, "talk to me first". Sometimes that is easier said than done. But when I wasn't comfortable enough with her, I went to my brother or my "mamaw". My mom always listened. Always. Still does. What sucks the most, she was ALMOST always right.
I have thought about what I have tried to teach my kids.
Everything on the list above except for two more things
11. Once you commit, you don't quit.
This means marriage, your job, a sport, a friend, anything. Now of course if your friend pushes you out of a moving vehicle, then, it would probably be good reason to end the friendship. But, don't quit. Solve it. Resolve it. Master it. The more you put into it, the more you get out if it.
12. Be the best that you can be
You want to roll back prices at Wal-mart with a blue vest and a yellow smiley face? Go for it. Just be the best one the Wal-mart crew ever had. You want to be a Plumber, rock on. Just pull up your pants. Be the best that you can be.
This passed weekend I was slapped in the face with lessons.
Walker reminded me that I he hasn't gotten his allowance since "the first time the button went to rehab". Ughghghgh
Then, Miss Adeline had a little friend over for the night. The friend asked when we got a futon. Addie explains, "well, the Button came home from rehab so Walker moved into the loft, but now the button is back in rehab so Walker is back in that room and we are keeping it here cause we don't know if the button is coming back from rehab, going to prison or what so we are just being prepared."
Those two moments killed my heart and my spirit the rest of the weekend. Franklin too. I am pretty sure that me wearing a spider man mask to pay the Pennsylvania Turnpike toll on a trip was not as memorable as those two lessons. At least we are being prepared.
After years of speaking and doing, I feel like most of my hard work was futile. Truly, will they remember candy corn on the dining room table on October 1 or "remember when the button was in rehab and we went on a trip?"
On Friday night, I took the kids to the fall festival. I was leaning against the wall watching the chaos and the crowd and I heard this woman say to her friend, "that's the lady whose kid is in all that trouble". Wow. All those people there and sadly, I knew it was me she was talking about.
I have always listened to my kids. My mom said if you get a boy or a man to talk you "better shut up and listen". I have. I only wish the "button" would have talked to me.
I have said so many prayers that I swear He hears me and says,"You again, I told you be patient and let someone else have a turn, I am getting to you." I pray for the "button" , for his siblings and for families that have no idea what is about to hit them.
The one lesson scary lesson that my mom has taught me is,
When we are done, we are done.
I have it, I learned it from my mom and my brother has it and he learned it from both of us. What is scary is, I think that all my other lessons will be dumped for this one. The three of us can cut someone out of our lives, like that. No trouble. When we have had enough, we say nothing and that is the end. I am afraid that I am there. This wouldn't be a good scenario for anyone, especially "the button".
I looked at the ceiling last night and wrestled with my feelings.
I got up and went through the motions of a Monday.
I have to remember that my kids come first. I have to get my love back. I am going to bake something. I am going to belt out Amy Winehouse in my kitchen and know that I have done all I can do and somewhere, some how, the lessons learned will be positive.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: if at first you don't succeed, try, try again
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: if at first you don't succeed, try, try again: Late Monday evening, Franklin and I were awakened by something on the front porch. We sprang from our beds to see what was the matter and I...
if at first you don't succeed, try, try again
Late Monday evening, Franklin and I were awakened by something on the front porch. We sprang from our beds to see what was the matter and I don't know why. We knew it wasn't Santa or the reindeer but we sprang nonetheless. The only thing missing was that stocking cap on Franklin's head.
There, on the porch was the "button". Typically, the "button" is neat as a pin, clean, immaculate. Wow, not Monday night. Whew. He looked rough.
If you are a parent, sometimes you look at your child and wonder, "when did he or she grow up?" Well, let me tell you, I looked at him on Monday night around 11:58 pm and wondered, "how does this grown man look sooooo much like a baby?" I still do not know where he was, but I can assure you, his weekend sucked the life out of him.
No, we didn't let him in. Instead we said, "why and what are you doing here?"
His answer, "I have outpatient in the morning and I need to go."
Our response, "we will always help you do something positive and productive BUT if you want to come back into this home, sleep in your bed, shower, use soap, put on clean clothes, use the toilet and become a productive member of this family, you must agree to one thing."
His eyes raised, "another rehab program" was our answer.
He said, "yes, I need help."
Well, the one thing the "button" under estimated was the speed in which a tired, pissed off, spent, exasperated, depressed and desperate mother can move.
The "button" entered a new rehab facility this morning.
Let me tell you, the difference between this one and the other one was astounding. I waited for Dr. Drew and some hard looking dried up porn star to come around the corner any minute and it didn't happen. Seriously, even I was assessed. I was even waiting for them to ask me for a pap smear. It was intense.
I was given a questionnaire to fill out. For the first time in two years, I got to vent to someone who just might be able to help and it was worth the tank of gas to fill it out.
And, he asked me if he could read my answers. I flung that clip board at him like a major league pitcher. He was stunned. I also think he was stunned that I was so honest. If I didn't know, I said I didn't know even if that wasn't an option. He was also astounded that I wrote 17 check marks on the question, "does your life fill like it is spinning out of control while you try and keep his or hers in control?" That was a seventeen check mark answer. You have no idea how liberating it was to mark each one of those checks.
This time I didn't supply calling cards, stamps, stationary, nothing.
After four hours of admitting, he was in and I was out.
My brain was mush, my heart soft as I drove away.
Before we can visit, the entire family has to go to a class. I am looking forward to the class.
I am looking forward to learning. I am looking forward to being hopeful. I am looking forward to understanding as much as I can about his struggles.
It took me years to get factoring in algebra, not sure I still get it, more than one try to ride a bike, several falls to learn to ski and a failed marriage to get one right.
If at first you don't succeed, try, try again, especially if it is something as important as your kid.
There, on the porch was the "button". Typically, the "button" is neat as a pin, clean, immaculate. Wow, not Monday night. Whew. He looked rough.
If you are a parent, sometimes you look at your child and wonder, "when did he or she grow up?" Well, let me tell you, I looked at him on Monday night around 11:58 pm and wondered, "how does this grown man look sooooo much like a baby?" I still do not know where he was, but I can assure you, his weekend sucked the life out of him.
No, we didn't let him in. Instead we said, "why and what are you doing here?"
His answer, "I have outpatient in the morning and I need to go."
Our response, "we will always help you do something positive and productive BUT if you want to come back into this home, sleep in your bed, shower, use soap, put on clean clothes, use the toilet and become a productive member of this family, you must agree to one thing."
His eyes raised, "another rehab program" was our answer.
He said, "yes, I need help."
Well, the one thing the "button" under estimated was the speed in which a tired, pissed off, spent, exasperated, depressed and desperate mother can move.
The "button" entered a new rehab facility this morning.
Let me tell you, the difference between this one and the other one was astounding. I waited for Dr. Drew and some hard looking dried up porn star to come around the corner any minute and it didn't happen. Seriously, even I was assessed. I was even waiting for them to ask me for a pap smear. It was intense.
I was given a questionnaire to fill out. For the first time in two years, I got to vent to someone who just might be able to help and it was worth the tank of gas to fill it out.
And, he asked me if he could read my answers. I flung that clip board at him like a major league pitcher. He was stunned. I also think he was stunned that I was so honest. If I didn't know, I said I didn't know even if that wasn't an option. He was also astounded that I wrote 17 check marks on the question, "does your life fill like it is spinning out of control while you try and keep his or hers in control?" That was a seventeen check mark answer. You have no idea how liberating it was to mark each one of those checks.
This time I didn't supply calling cards, stamps, stationary, nothing.
After four hours of admitting, he was in and I was out.
My brain was mush, my heart soft as I drove away.
Before we can visit, the entire family has to go to a class. I am looking forward to the class.
I am looking forward to learning. I am looking forward to being hopeful. I am looking forward to understanding as much as I can about his struggles.
It took me years to get factoring in algebra, not sure I still get it, more than one try to ride a bike, several falls to learn to ski and a failed marriage to get one right.
If at first you don't succeed, try, try again, especially if it is something as important as your kid.
Monday, October 3, 2011
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: "button, button, who has the button?"
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: "button, button, who has the button?": For two years, I have dreaded weekends. I used to SO look forward to the weekends. Weekends are to teenagers like crack houses are to cra...
"button, button, who has the button?"
For two years, I have dreaded weekends. I used to SO look forward to the weekends. Weekends are to teenagers like crack houses are to crack heads.
This past week with the "button" had its highs and its lows. Great moments followed by not so great moments. But, the "button" was here trying and doing.
Saturday night the "button" called me from work and has not been heard from since. He agreed to be home by eight to spend a family evening with us and his grandparents.
The mother network has reported sightings. He was more than likely drunk. He was with his "friend" who does not bring out the best in him.
I have no idea where he is, if he is alive, when he will return, nothing. After 35 days in summer camp, 45 days at the Land of Oz, 90 days sober, we have been smacked in the face again with a 2 X 4.
Most likely he will show up today at his job, who knows if he will be fired or not.
Most likely he will show up at home today. Typically, his pockets would be filled with excuses. Today, he will not have the chance to explain. His "exit" plan is in effect. We are officially "letting him go". I think in Tough Love terms that means we are kicking his ass out.
We are drained emotionally, financially and physically. The last two years, our days began and ended with the "button". No more, I have to get myself back. I have two small children who are doing the right things. Time for them to be rewarded for their behavior.
My husband and I need to reconnect. Couples with "troubled" children fight. I do not want to fight with my husband. I have no fight left. I want to live and laugh.
Criticize if you want. I am moving on. I cannot make or want for my child if they don't want or care. You cannot make the morbidly obese person in the scooter at the mall give up the Dippin Dots if they don't want too...that is where I am.
I have been there for my family. I will take some responsibility and admit that I did too much, too often for too long for the "button". He was my prince, my only child. I have two other children now who are tired of driving around an island looking for him and also wondering where he is and when and if he would come home.
My heart is so broken and devastated for him. Life is hard if you are doing it right. His just got tons harder. The results, short of some huge miracle, will be less than spectacular. I never have cared what my children chose to be in their adult lives, just that they were happy and that their lives were all that they wanted.
And yes, let's be honest, I am broken hearted for me. One of the reasons we chose to raise him was so he could have a better life and be more and have more than he would have had with his biological parents. Turns out, the results were the same. Sure, I feel a sense of failure. Okay, not a sense, a wheel barrel full. But, in time, I will feel acceptance and this too will leave.
And so my day begins, and while I go about my life, I cannot help but wonder, "button, button, where is the button?"
This past week with the "button" had its highs and its lows. Great moments followed by not so great moments. But, the "button" was here trying and doing.
Saturday night the "button" called me from work and has not been heard from since. He agreed to be home by eight to spend a family evening with us and his grandparents.
The mother network has reported sightings. He was more than likely drunk. He was with his "friend" who does not bring out the best in him.
I have no idea where he is, if he is alive, when he will return, nothing. After 35 days in summer camp, 45 days at the Land of Oz, 90 days sober, we have been smacked in the face again with a 2 X 4.
Most likely he will show up today at his job, who knows if he will be fired or not.
Most likely he will show up at home today. Typically, his pockets would be filled with excuses. Today, he will not have the chance to explain. His "exit" plan is in effect. We are officially "letting him go". I think in Tough Love terms that means we are kicking his ass out.
We are drained emotionally, financially and physically. The last two years, our days began and ended with the "button". No more, I have to get myself back. I have two small children who are doing the right things. Time for them to be rewarded for their behavior.
My husband and I need to reconnect. Couples with "troubled" children fight. I do not want to fight with my husband. I have no fight left. I want to live and laugh.
Criticize if you want. I am moving on. I cannot make or want for my child if they don't want or care. You cannot make the morbidly obese person in the scooter at the mall give up the Dippin Dots if they don't want too...that is where I am.
I have been there for my family. I will take some responsibility and admit that I did too much, too often for too long for the "button". He was my prince, my only child. I have two other children now who are tired of driving around an island looking for him and also wondering where he is and when and if he would come home.
My heart is so broken and devastated for him. Life is hard if you are doing it right. His just got tons harder. The results, short of some huge miracle, will be less than spectacular. I never have cared what my children chose to be in their adult lives, just that they were happy and that their lives were all that they wanted.
And yes, let's be honest, I am broken hearted for me. One of the reasons we chose to raise him was so he could have a better life and be more and have more than he would have had with his biological parents. Turns out, the results were the same. Sure, I feel a sense of failure. Okay, not a sense, a wheel barrel full. But, in time, I will feel acceptance and this too will leave.
And so my day begins, and while I go about my life, I cannot help but wonder, "button, button, where is the button?"
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