it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: dinner with a kindergarten buddy: This week I had dinner with a fellow I have known since kindergarten and who grew up with me. His name is Dan. We chatted about whiffle b...
the story of kids,chaos, mothering challenges and sometimes chocolate
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
dinner with a kindergarten buddy
This week I had dinner with a fellow I have known since kindergarten and who grew up with me. His name is Dan.
We chatted about whiffle ball games at the end of the street. I never attended these games because I was not allowed to go down the street that far.
We talked about the giraffe sliding board in my backyard and how we played house underneath.
Mrs. Cup was our first grade teacher. Chuckie H. was the fastest and best at eraser tag. Keith R. threw up in the cloak room one day and the janitor put this sawdust stuff on it and I can still smell both.
Every year right before school started, the Penn Franklin news would post classroom assignments. You did not miss this issue. In fourth grade,we both got the "new teacher" and we were bummed.
The "new teacher" was Miss Mercer. I can still remember seeing her for the first time. Tall, slender with brown hair that flipped like "That Girl" with a few freckles sprinkled on her nose. She was young and lovely. She was beautiful. We were her first class. We had a kickball team for one entire school year and we played kickball like it was our job.
We loved Miss Mercer. We loved fourth grade.
We talked about the chance reunions we have had and how the Delmont Elementary People hung out with one another. Delmont folks were "kin".
What a great night.
It occurred to me later that Dan and I had our dinner most likely because of Facebook. We had fun. It seemed like yesterday that I had seen him.
And I wondered, what will it be like for the "button?" Will people have dinner with him and talk about our huge bonfires in the backyard, or how he was always dressed in an outfit or will they remember him for "summer camp?"
And, will they look at him differently or will they forgive his mistakes?
I made a huge mistake in my 30's. Not the kind that lands you in "summer camp" but I am pretty sure the morality police wouldn't have approved. I learned and paid dearly. That mistake is so much of who I am today. It worked out.
Will the "button" ever be remembered for goodness and his athletic accomplishments and not his tarnished summer?
In a brief conversation with "the button" this week, he did say that he NEVER wants to come back here or face anyone. He is embarrassed.
I guess we have all been there. I have. And I am making it. Time does heal.
Dinner was wonderful. I am just glad that Dan didn't remember the day I walked in the classroom with my dress still stuck up in my underwear for all the class to see.
We chatted about whiffle ball games at the end of the street. I never attended these games because I was not allowed to go down the street that far.
We talked about the giraffe sliding board in my backyard and how we played house underneath.
Mrs. Cup was our first grade teacher. Chuckie H. was the fastest and best at eraser tag. Keith R. threw up in the cloak room one day and the janitor put this sawdust stuff on it and I can still smell both.
Every year right before school started, the Penn Franklin news would post classroom assignments. You did not miss this issue. In fourth grade,we both got the "new teacher" and we were bummed.
The "new teacher" was Miss Mercer. I can still remember seeing her for the first time. Tall, slender with brown hair that flipped like "That Girl" with a few freckles sprinkled on her nose. She was young and lovely. She was beautiful. We were her first class. We had a kickball team for one entire school year and we played kickball like it was our job.
We loved Miss Mercer. We loved fourth grade.
We talked about the chance reunions we have had and how the Delmont Elementary People hung out with one another. Delmont folks were "kin".
What a great night.
It occurred to me later that Dan and I had our dinner most likely because of Facebook. We had fun. It seemed like yesterday that I had seen him.
And I wondered, what will it be like for the "button?" Will people have dinner with him and talk about our huge bonfires in the backyard, or how he was always dressed in an outfit or will they remember him for "summer camp?"
And, will they look at him differently or will they forgive his mistakes?
I made a huge mistake in my 30's. Not the kind that lands you in "summer camp" but I am pretty sure the morality police wouldn't have approved. I learned and paid dearly. That mistake is so much of who I am today. It worked out.
Will the "button" ever be remembered for goodness and his athletic accomplishments and not his tarnished summer?
In a brief conversation with "the button" this week, he did say that he NEVER wants to come back here or face anyone. He is embarrassed.
I guess we have all been there. I have. And I am making it. Time does heal.
Dinner was wonderful. I am just glad that Dan didn't remember the day I walked in the classroom with my dress still stuck up in my underwear for all the class to see.
Monday, August 29, 2011
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: birthing babies is like surviving hurricanes
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: birthing babies is like surviving hurricanes: This weekend gave me time to think...birthing babies is like surviving hurricanes. How can that be? Well, let's think about ... 1. The...
birthing babies is like surviving hurricanes
This weekend gave me time to think...birthing babies is like surviving hurricanes.
How can that be?
Well, let's think about ...
1. The doctor confirms that "yes, the rabbit died, now go get a sonogram so we know when we can expect this little thing." And off you go to see the rice krispie on the screen. There it is and the race is on...with a hurricane, you see that red swirl and the race is on.
2. You know the baby is coming...just like the hurricane. You don't know when for sure it is coming but you know when it is coming. You start to prepare.
3. You name it. And trust me, give it a redneck name and it will reek havoc...Agnes, Hazel, Fran, Floyd, Earl...no redneck names.
4. You prepare. You buy stuff for both that you are not even sure why you are buying. I had four anal thermometers for my kids. Never used one. We have generators, flashlights, bags of ice, zip lock bags, it is crazy. But, we are prepared. We don't know when this thing is coming but we are prepared.
5. Elderly people feel the need to comment on your size. "Hope that baby doesn't fall out in my store." Do you know how many elderly people said that to me when I was carrying? Seriously. Did I have say anything like, "wow, how long have you been sporting that chrome dome up there". Last week at the Food Lion in the bread aisle, this elderly man says to me "I feel like this is going to be a BIG one...better get an extra loaf." Just randomly he says that to me. Like a loaf, one single loaf was going to make all the difference.
6. You grade the Hurricane and the pregnancy...Category One versus High Risk. I noticed one day in the office of my obgyn that all the other girls had white files. I had a red one. When I got i n front of the doctor, I asked. "Why do all the other girls have white files and I have a red one?"
"Cause you are old" he said. Category Five.
7. You watch that red swirl on the television like you have never seen the color red. Round and round it goes and yet you keep watching. Just like that little been on the sonogram screen. You keep watching. Then you read up on your "bean" and the weeks that correspond with it, you cannot get enough info.
8. You know the arrival date is near and you wait for the symptoms. Does your back hurt, is the wind picking up? Are your legs swelling, is the barometric pressure falling? You know it is coming, you just don't know when. You know you tired from waiting.
9. You are exhausted. You have shopped, painted, purchased, unpacked, washed, put away and now you are ready for the baby. With Hurricanes, you shop, cook, put stuff away, get stuff out, get papers ready, fill cars with gas, board up and then you are tired and you wait.
10. And it is finally here. It never comes when you expect it and it never comes how you expected it. Sometimes it is fast and furious and leaves quickly. Sometimes it is slow and painful and seems to last forever.
11. The aftermath sucks. When I was pregnant, all I ever heard about was the BIRTH. Never, did anyone ever mention that the frustrated East German swimmers would come in afterward and rub and massage me and make me feel like I had been in a car accident or wish I had been in one. After a Hurricane sucks. It is hot, no power, which means NO air conditioning, bugs and you are tired. The aftermath sucks.
12. And then it is gone. The Hurricane is over and leaves. The baby is born and you are alone with your child. Both have peaceful silence.
Some Hurricanes come and go with no significance. Some babies are born and go through life with utter ease. Some Hurricanes blow your socks off and are spoken about for years after they have dropped leaves from trees. Some babies blow your socks off for years.
The "button" called. He is doing well. He continues to blow my socks off.
How can that be?
Well, let's think about ...
1. The doctor confirms that "yes, the rabbit died, now go get a sonogram so we know when we can expect this little thing." And off you go to see the rice krispie on the screen. There it is and the race is on...with a hurricane, you see that red swirl and the race is on.
2. You know the baby is coming...just like the hurricane. You don't know when for sure it is coming but you know when it is coming. You start to prepare.
3. You name it. And trust me, give it a redneck name and it will reek havoc...Agnes, Hazel, Fran, Floyd, Earl...no redneck names.
4. You prepare. You buy stuff for both that you are not even sure why you are buying. I had four anal thermometers for my kids. Never used one. We have generators, flashlights, bags of ice, zip lock bags, it is crazy. But, we are prepared. We don't know when this thing is coming but we are prepared.
5. Elderly people feel the need to comment on your size. "Hope that baby doesn't fall out in my store." Do you know how many elderly people said that to me when I was carrying? Seriously. Did I have say anything like, "wow, how long have you been sporting that chrome dome up there". Last week at the Food Lion in the bread aisle, this elderly man says to me "I feel like this is going to be a BIG one...better get an extra loaf." Just randomly he says that to me. Like a loaf, one single loaf was going to make all the difference.
6. You grade the Hurricane and the pregnancy...Category One versus High Risk. I noticed one day in the office of my obgyn that all the other girls had white files. I had a red one. When I got i n front of the doctor, I asked. "Why do all the other girls have white files and I have a red one?"
"Cause you are old" he said. Category Five.
7. You watch that red swirl on the television like you have never seen the color red. Round and round it goes and yet you keep watching. Just like that little been on the sonogram screen. You keep watching. Then you read up on your "bean" and the weeks that correspond with it, you cannot get enough info.
8. You know the arrival date is near and you wait for the symptoms. Does your back hurt, is the wind picking up? Are your legs swelling, is the barometric pressure falling? You know it is coming, you just don't know when. You know you tired from waiting.
9. You are exhausted. You have shopped, painted, purchased, unpacked, washed, put away and now you are ready for the baby. With Hurricanes, you shop, cook, put stuff away, get stuff out, get papers ready, fill cars with gas, board up and then you are tired and you wait.
10. And it is finally here. It never comes when you expect it and it never comes how you expected it. Sometimes it is fast and furious and leaves quickly. Sometimes it is slow and painful and seems to last forever.
11. The aftermath sucks. When I was pregnant, all I ever heard about was the BIRTH. Never, did anyone ever mention that the frustrated East German swimmers would come in afterward and rub and massage me and make me feel like I had been in a car accident or wish I had been in one. After a Hurricane sucks. It is hot, no power, which means NO air conditioning, bugs and you are tired. The aftermath sucks.
12. And then it is gone. The Hurricane is over and leaves. The baby is born and you are alone with your child. Both have peaceful silence.
Some Hurricanes come and go with no significance. Some babies are born and go through life with utter ease. Some Hurricanes blow your socks off and are spoken about for years after they have dropped leaves from trees. Some babies blow your socks off for years.
The "button" called. He is doing well. He continues to blow my socks off.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
call me, please!
I didn't date much in my younger days. But, one some guy said they were going to call, I was by that phone.
I love to talk on the phone. I love to hear a person's voice. I love to hear the phone ring.
I hate hanging up.
Damn it "button", can you please call?
It has been over a week since he has called, 12 days I think.
And, just like a jilted lover, I am going crazy.
Is he okay, did he get in trouble and lose the privilege, is he on a trip, is he still there, did he runaway, where is he, is he safe and are we going to hear from him again?
Ugh.
At least it isn't, "am I a lousy kisser, did I talk too much, was there something in my teeth, am I not smart enough?"
I guess I am growing up.
I have spent the last four days carrying my phone around like I am waiting on a new liver, which really isn't a bad idea. Saturday night at a dinner party, I stared at the phone like I was willing it to ring. No ring.
I had to work with the bitches, bleach and bras crew today and my shorts didn't have pockets. So, I stuck the phone in my pants all day. On vibrate. How redneck is that? When it has moisture problems, how will I explain this to the US cellular dude? "ahhh, left it in my pants and was having a hot flash while I was cleaning and I guess that is why the the moisture tab turned red."
And I have called my voicemail 90 times today convinced that he called and I missed the call.
Seriously, I feel like a love sick teenager that has been dumped.
Maybe one of the donkeys that carries the supplies up the side of the mountain stepped on the "button's foot" and he is in bed and cannot walk to the phone. I bet that is it.
My friend sent me this joke one time...it goes something like this...
Her brain...
"Oh, he is so distant, he isn't listening to anything I am saying and he didn't order the usual off the menu. He is having a hard time staying engaged in the conversation, he keeps shaking his leg, I knew the other night when I mentioned going away for the weekend he seemed really tense and out of sorts."
His brain...
"WVU lost today. Sucky day".
Hope that is it, hope someday dropped the phone and it bounced down the mountain.
Hope he calls. Hope he is well. Hope is still there. Hope he misses us. Hope he is well.
Hope he isn't making life long friends.
Hope he calls us soon.
Hope he knows that a hurricane is coming our way and I keep thinking about him as we prepare. Damn, you would think that red dot swirling around in the ocean headed right toward your house would prompt a phone call, wouldn't you?
And when he does call, I will let you know.
I love to talk on the phone. I love to hear a person's voice. I love to hear the phone ring.
I hate hanging up.
Damn it "button", can you please call?
It has been over a week since he has called, 12 days I think.
And, just like a jilted lover, I am going crazy.
Is he okay, did he get in trouble and lose the privilege, is he on a trip, is he still there, did he runaway, where is he, is he safe and are we going to hear from him again?
Ugh.
At least it isn't, "am I a lousy kisser, did I talk too much, was there something in my teeth, am I not smart enough?"
I guess I am growing up.
I have spent the last four days carrying my phone around like I am waiting on a new liver, which really isn't a bad idea. Saturday night at a dinner party, I stared at the phone like I was willing it to ring. No ring.
I had to work with the bitches, bleach and bras crew today and my shorts didn't have pockets. So, I stuck the phone in my pants all day. On vibrate. How redneck is that? When it has moisture problems, how will I explain this to the US cellular dude? "ahhh, left it in my pants and was having a hot flash while I was cleaning and I guess that is why the the moisture tab turned red."
And I have called my voicemail 90 times today convinced that he called and I missed the call.
Seriously, I feel like a love sick teenager that has been dumped.
Maybe one of the donkeys that carries the supplies up the side of the mountain stepped on the "button's foot" and he is in bed and cannot walk to the phone. I bet that is it.
My friend sent me this joke one time...it goes something like this...
Her brain...
"Oh, he is so distant, he isn't listening to anything I am saying and he didn't order the usual off the menu. He is having a hard time staying engaged in the conversation, he keeps shaking his leg, I knew the other night when I mentioned going away for the weekend he seemed really tense and out of sorts."
His brain...
"WVU lost today. Sucky day".
Hope that is it, hope someday dropped the phone and it bounced down the mountain.
Hope he calls. Hope he is well. Hope is still there. Hope he misses us. Hope he is well.
Hope he isn't making life long friends.
Hope he calls us soon.
Hope he knows that a hurricane is coming our way and I keep thinking about him as we prepare. Damn, you would think that red dot swirling around in the ocean headed right toward your house would prompt a phone call, wouldn't you?
And when he does call, I will let you know.
Monday, August 22, 2011
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: Can a person REALLY change?
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: Can a person REALLY change?: Since the "button" has entered the merry old land of Oz, people have asked me, "do you think he can change?" Hmmmm. Don't know. Want is...
Can a person REALLY change?
Since the "button" has entered the merry old land of Oz, people have asked me, "do you think he can change?"
Hmmmm. Don't know.
Want is the key.
This blog is the outcome of a night on the porch. Women in nightgowns, on a mission.
The person who really inspired me though was a lovely 17 year old teenager. She also sat patiently one night and walked me through all the techno stuff for the blog.
This lovely young lady, who we will call "E", walked up to her mom one day and said, "I need to break up with my boyfriend".
The mom says, "I didn't know you had a boyfriend."
"Yes. His name is ED as in Eating Disorder."
And, just like this Tigger mom, that Tigger mom began her quest for help and repair. But it wasn't about the help that the mom found, it was about "E" and her acceptance and her want for change.
But, the very first time "E" went to a therapist, she sat across the room from the therapist with arms crossed so tightly that her fingers were blue. She probably has fuzz balls under her arms pits she was so angry and so rigid.
And now, two years later, and yes, some pounds heavier, "Miss E" sits with her arms open and a huge smile on her face almost all the time. She worked and fought and listened and talked her way right through her horrible relationship with a dude named ED.
And, in the middle of it, she started a blog. A blog for other girls to go to and for other girls to have hope.
One day at high school, while the classmates were waiting for the fire drill to end, another skinny "random" girl walked up to "E" and handed her a note. The note said, "thank you".
Apparently this "random" girl was now dating ED.
"E" had the courage to change and the want to change.
I have quit smoking, quit playing Farmville (yes, addicted to cyber farming) and addicted to happy hour in my younger years. And, I am still addicted to chocolate and cake plates. I haven't had chocolate in seven days and I haven't bought a cake plate in a month. I have wanted to change.
Can the "button" change? I honestly do not know. I do know that Franklin and I are not experts nor do we play ones on television. If he was going to change, he needed experts and a different environment to do so. I have said a million prayers that he will and that he wants to do. It is up to some little guy in the mountains and some Big Guy in the Heavens.
I have seen the "button" change and work so very hard in wrestling. Six minutes can be the longest ever when you are on the mat. I hope that he understands that this too is a match and even though you get down on your back, you can get back up.
Change is the result of want. I pray the "button" wants it as much as others want it for him.
Some people have criticized me for this blog. I don't care. If it changes one kids life, it was worth it. The "button" is an organ donor. He wants to change a person's life and make it better when he passes. Surely, he would want to do the same will he is alive. I have had several calls from parents who want their kids lives to change as well. They have read the blog, discovered the warning signs and are now on a quest for help.
Just like "Miss E", one person, one thank you makes a difference. Our family was hit with a hurricane named "Teenager" and I truly feel sorry for the families that do not know that the red dot is getting ready to hit land at their address.
So, "Miss E", because of your courage, and your WANT to change, you may have saved a couple more lives than you ever imagined. Smile girl.
Hmmmm. Don't know.
Want is the key.
This blog is the outcome of a night on the porch. Women in nightgowns, on a mission.
The person who really inspired me though was a lovely 17 year old teenager. She also sat patiently one night and walked me through all the techno stuff for the blog.
This lovely young lady, who we will call "E", walked up to her mom one day and said, "I need to break up with my boyfriend".
The mom says, "I didn't know you had a boyfriend."
"Yes. His name is ED as in Eating Disorder."
And, just like this Tigger mom, that Tigger mom began her quest for help and repair. But it wasn't about the help that the mom found, it was about "E" and her acceptance and her want for change.
But, the very first time "E" went to a therapist, she sat across the room from the therapist with arms crossed so tightly that her fingers were blue. She probably has fuzz balls under her arms pits she was so angry and so rigid.
And now, two years later, and yes, some pounds heavier, "Miss E" sits with her arms open and a huge smile on her face almost all the time. She worked and fought and listened and talked her way right through her horrible relationship with a dude named ED.
And, in the middle of it, she started a blog. A blog for other girls to go to and for other girls to have hope.
One day at high school, while the classmates were waiting for the fire drill to end, another skinny "random" girl walked up to "E" and handed her a note. The note said, "thank you".
Apparently this "random" girl was now dating ED.
"E" had the courage to change and the want to change.
I have quit smoking, quit playing Farmville (yes, addicted to cyber farming) and addicted to happy hour in my younger years. And, I am still addicted to chocolate and cake plates. I haven't had chocolate in seven days and I haven't bought a cake plate in a month. I have wanted to change.
Can the "button" change? I honestly do not know. I do know that Franklin and I are not experts nor do we play ones on television. If he was going to change, he needed experts and a different environment to do so. I have said a million prayers that he will and that he wants to do. It is up to some little guy in the mountains and some Big Guy in the Heavens.
I have seen the "button" change and work so very hard in wrestling. Six minutes can be the longest ever when you are on the mat. I hope that he understands that this too is a match and even though you get down on your back, you can get back up.
Change is the result of want. I pray the "button" wants it as much as others want it for him.
Some people have criticized me for this blog. I don't care. If it changes one kids life, it was worth it. The "button" is an organ donor. He wants to change a person's life and make it better when he passes. Surely, he would want to do the same will he is alive. I have had several calls from parents who want their kids lives to change as well. They have read the blog, discovered the warning signs and are now on a quest for help.
Just like "Miss E", one person, one thank you makes a difference. Our family was hit with a hurricane named "Teenager" and I truly feel sorry for the families that do not know that the red dot is getting ready to hit land at their address.
So, "Miss E", because of your courage, and your WANT to change, you may have saved a couple more lives than you ever imagined. Smile girl.
Friday, August 19, 2011
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: come to my Pity Party, I made cake.
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: come to my Pity Party, I made cake.: It doesn't happen very often but today I had a old fashioned pity party. Maybe it was because I woke feeling HORRIBLE. Or maybe it is b...
come to my Pity Party, I made cake.
Maybe it was because I woke feeling HORRIBLE.
Or maybe it is because tomorrow is Franklin's birthday.
Or maybe it was because when I went to get a card for Franklin, I saw some kids do last minute things with their parents before they went to college. And, I even heard one of them whisper to their mom,"there is the button's mother." Blah, blah, blah.
I have been saving for the "button" to go to college from day one. I wanted to buy the comforter, the laptop, meet the roommate, discuss classes and buy towels.
And yes, I wanted to take prom pictures in front of my wisteria. I wanted to send out graduation announcements, have a dinner and celebrate all that you celebrate for the end of one milestone and the beginning of a new one.
Instead, I picked out rehab centers, met attorneys and discussed probation possibilities.
Yes, I feel ripped off.
And honestly, every holiday this year, we were consumed with "button drama".
Today when I went to the mailbox (because I wasn't done being tortured) there was a wrestling magazine in the box. That did it. I was done.
Would I ever see the "button"raise his arm again in the center of the mat with his singlet?
Really, after all drama this year, is that too much to ask? I just want to see my "button" one more time at his best, enjoying his passion.
I have spent two days thinking about one thing, "was there just one thing that I could have done or missed to prevent all and or any of this?"
Look, Jeffrey Dahmer's parents, while I didn't know them personally, I am sure didn't teach their son to murder young men, chop them up, freeze them and admire his work. I am fairly confident this never happened. I am also fairly confident that while I made mistakes, this is not my fault.
I have slapped myself with the "you are a spoiled brat stick". We have our health, we live in America, and honestly, I have had a charmed life. Who really cares about a prom picture. I am 50 years old and even though my prom date is a dear friend of mine, I have no idea where the picture is. Get a grip Stephanie. Quit it. Kick that Eeyore character right where the tac is and get back to being "fun, fun, fun, fun, fun.
Look to the future and celebrate all that you have and all that goodness that will come your way by the Grace of God.
So, there is cake. It is NOT chocolate.
There will be a celebration. The "button" will miss this celebration here too. We will get over his absence.
There will be many more things to celebrate in the future.
So, here's to you Franklin. Thanks for being there for me, through good times and bad.
I couldn't ask for a better husband. Now, let's go have some fun.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: Questions on my ceiling
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: Questions on my ceiling: "Franklin and I have spent most of our parenting years 'up most of the night'. And, as luck would have it, when the kids started sleeping th..."
Questions on my ceiling
Franklin and I have spent most of our parenting years "up most of the night". And, as luck would have it, when the kids started sleeping through the night, we could not. Our middle aged bladders have maxed out and we can not make it through the night without getting up to use the bathroom.
After I get up, go and get back in bed, there are always questions on my ceiling. Similar to those projection alarm clocks that flash the time on your ceiling. I am getting old, but I am not "there" yet to have one of those clocks. Instead, I have my "questions on the ceiling".
Before all of the "DRAMA" the questions were, "what do I get everyone for Christmas, what kind of wrapping paper and what color ribbon, what will I make for dinner tomorrow, what about the left over rice I have in the fridge, should I paint the porch, when was the last time I changed the oil in my car? You know, those kind of questions.
And then the drama. Boy, the questions changed. "is he safe, where is he, when will he come home, who is he with, is he in jail, in the hospital, why is he so angry, why does he hate us, will it change, will he ever change, have i changed, when will all of this change and go away, is he on drugs, what kind, where did he get them, why didn't I notice, how long has this been going on?"
Then summer camp came. "is he safe, does he have a bunk mate, is the bunk mate named Bubba and is he after the button, is the button still so angry, is he getting in fights, will he ever speak to me again, what can I do, what shall we do, how do I do it, when do we do it, is it even possible, and when will I ever see the button at his best again."
Summer camp ends (thank goodness) and here comes the Land of Oz. "is he safe, what are his room mates like, are they a good influence, is he learning anything, is he happy, will he make it, will he leave and take off and I never hear from him again, does he hate us, will we ever be re united, when, what can I do to help him from afar and does he know how much we love him and care about him and was this the right thing to do and when will we know if it was".
I really wish I was worrying about the color ribbon on the Christmas wrappings.
When Walker was in the "big class" at pre-school, he came home with the first paper ever, a horse, that he colored in with his name written on it. First time ever he wrote his name on a paper.
Franklin and I would have sworn he was a genius. That was until I saw the other classmates handwriting. I knew then, "Houston, we have a problem." Yep, he was a little behind. I swear I didn't sleep for weeks over that and just worked myself into a tizz.
Some nights I listen to my husband breathing, that deep sleep breathing and I am so envious. About the time I finally drift off I hear his Barney Rubble feet hit the floor and I know that his time "question and answer" time is next.
If you are a parent, and you are up doing the same thing, call us. We still don't know all the questions and we sure as hell have found the answers yet.
After I get up, go and get back in bed, there are always questions on my ceiling. Similar to those projection alarm clocks that flash the time on your ceiling. I am getting old, but I am not "there" yet to have one of those clocks. Instead, I have my "questions on the ceiling".
Before all of the "DRAMA" the questions were, "what do I get everyone for Christmas, what kind of wrapping paper and what color ribbon, what will I make for dinner tomorrow, what about the left over rice I have in the fridge, should I paint the porch, when was the last time I changed the oil in my car? You know, those kind of questions.
And then the drama. Boy, the questions changed. "is he safe, where is he, when will he come home, who is he with, is he in jail, in the hospital, why is he so angry, why does he hate us, will it change, will he ever change, have i changed, when will all of this change and go away, is he on drugs, what kind, where did he get them, why didn't I notice, how long has this been going on?"
Then summer camp came. "is he safe, does he have a bunk mate, is the bunk mate named Bubba and is he after the button, is the button still so angry, is he getting in fights, will he ever speak to me again, what can I do, what shall we do, how do I do it, when do we do it, is it even possible, and when will I ever see the button at his best again."
Summer camp ends (thank goodness) and here comes the Land of Oz. "is he safe, what are his room mates like, are they a good influence, is he learning anything, is he happy, will he make it, will he leave and take off and I never hear from him again, does he hate us, will we ever be re united, when, what can I do to help him from afar and does he know how much we love him and care about him and was this the right thing to do and when will we know if it was".
I really wish I was worrying about the color ribbon on the Christmas wrappings.
When Walker was in the "big class" at pre-school, he came home with the first paper ever, a horse, that he colored in with his name written on it. First time ever he wrote his name on a paper.
Franklin and I would have sworn he was a genius. That was until I saw the other classmates handwriting. I knew then, "Houston, we have a problem." Yep, he was a little behind. I swear I didn't sleep for weeks over that and just worked myself into a tizz.
Some nights I listen to my husband breathing, that deep sleep breathing and I am so envious. About the time I finally drift off I hear his Barney Rubble feet hit the floor and I know that his time "question and answer" time is next.
If you are a parent, and you are up doing the same thing, call us. We still don't know all the questions and we sure as hell have found the answers yet.
Monday, August 15, 2011
My name is...and I am a choc-a-holic
The "button" told us that he has earned his 30 day sobriety chip.
I wondered, could I go 30 days without my drug of choice, chocolate? Could you go thirty days without something and what would it be?
Rich, creamy, sugary, smooth chocolate. Chocolate covered raisins, almonds, chocolate anything. I am in love with chocolate.
Eating too much chocolate typically does not result in felonies but it can add to your waistline. I am addicted nonetheless.
I eat chocolate everyday. I have had perfect attendance with chocolate since my teens. Hell, I will even eat a piece of chocolate that I find in my sofa cushions. Not proud of it, just being honest.
My mom started a diet every Monday of her adult life. By Monday at 11 am she would be eating a hot fudge sundae. "Mom, thought you were on a diet?" "I am, I didn't put as much ice cream in the bowl." See, it is genetic.
So, effective today, I am going for my chip too. Thirty days without chocolate. I hope my chip will be covered in gold and when you peel the gold wrapper away, there will be chocolate.
At our Walgreens, there is a little old lady who works at the register. She looks like Mrs. Claus. When you check out she asks "would you like to help me meet my goal and buy two Peppermint Pattys to help our troops? Are you kidding me, who says no to Mrs. Claus, the troops or Peppermint Pattys, my ALL time favorite chocolate? Seriously, what a scam. I fall for it EVERY TIME an promise that I won't eat the chocolate but as the day wears on and it starts to melt in my car (about fifteen minutes) I eat the chocolate candy.
So, as of today, August 15, I will not eat chocolate for 30 days. No baking chocolate either. I love to lick the beaters, love it. I don't care if there are raw eggs in there. Raw eggs worked for Rocky.
I am not going to Walgreens for 30 days either.
I am fighting my demons head on. If the "button" can do it, so can I.
After all, my name is Stephanie and I am a choc-a-holic.
I wondered, could I go 30 days without my drug of choice, chocolate? Could you go thirty days without something and what would it be?
Rich, creamy, sugary, smooth chocolate. Chocolate covered raisins, almonds, chocolate anything. I am in love with chocolate.
Eating too much chocolate typically does not result in felonies but it can add to your waistline. I am addicted nonetheless.
I eat chocolate everyday. I have had perfect attendance with chocolate since my teens. Hell, I will even eat a piece of chocolate that I find in my sofa cushions. Not proud of it, just being honest.
My mom started a diet every Monday of her adult life. By Monday at 11 am she would be eating a hot fudge sundae. "Mom, thought you were on a diet?" "I am, I didn't put as much ice cream in the bowl." See, it is genetic.
So, effective today, I am going for my chip too. Thirty days without chocolate. I hope my chip will be covered in gold and when you peel the gold wrapper away, there will be chocolate.
At our Walgreens, there is a little old lady who works at the register. She looks like Mrs. Claus. When you check out she asks "would you like to help me meet my goal and buy two Peppermint Pattys to help our troops? Are you kidding me, who says no to Mrs. Claus, the troops or Peppermint Pattys, my ALL time favorite chocolate? Seriously, what a scam. I fall for it EVERY TIME an promise that I won't eat the chocolate but as the day wears on and it starts to melt in my car (about fifteen minutes) I eat the chocolate candy.
So, as of today, August 15, I will not eat chocolate for 30 days. No baking chocolate either. I love to lick the beaters, love it. I don't care if there are raw eggs in there. Raw eggs worked for Rocky.
I am not going to Walgreens for 30 days either.
I am fighting my demons head on. If the "button" can do it, so can I.
After all, my name is Stephanie and I am a choc-a-holic.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
I Heart Alexander Graham Bell
Last night, as we were drifting off, my phone rang. I saw the area code and huge panic invaded my body.
I picked up and said "hello" and in return I heard, "hey mom, what's up?"
At the moment my heart grew 15 inches. I now know how mom's of deployed members of the military feel when they get a call.
The "button" is doing great. He is busy. He attends meetings and works, alot. He said that it "is the saddest place you will ever be". He is getting "alot out of the meetings and he is a saint compared to most people there." That is hard to believe.
I feel sorry for this new generation of texters. After my first blind luncheon date with Franklin, I wondered when and if he would call. My heart leaped out of the chest the day he did call.
There is nothing like the voice of a loved one, ever. Certain things should be said, "like do you want to go to dinner with me?" That call after a date is huge, and not getting the call is an even bigger deal.
Some of my favorite times with my mamaw were spent on the phone. When my mom leaves, I am screwed. I will have too much time on my hands.
So, "the button" is fine. Learning alot, the food is good, he drives the van (not many people in rehab have valid driver's license) and he needs socks. And, he cannot wait for us to visit when he gets his "free" day.
Alexander is my hero.
I picked up and said "hello" and in return I heard, "hey mom, what's up?"
At the moment my heart grew 15 inches. I now know how mom's of deployed members of the military feel when they get a call.
The "button" is doing great. He is busy. He attends meetings and works, alot. He said that it "is the saddest place you will ever be". He is getting "alot out of the meetings and he is a saint compared to most people there." That is hard to believe.
I feel sorry for this new generation of texters. After my first blind luncheon date with Franklin, I wondered when and if he would call. My heart leaped out of the chest the day he did call.
There is nothing like the voice of a loved one, ever. Certain things should be said, "like do you want to go to dinner with me?" That call after a date is huge, and not getting the call is an even bigger deal.
Some of my favorite times with my mamaw were spent on the phone. When my mom leaves, I am screwed. I will have too much time on my hands.
So, "the button" is fine. Learning alot, the food is good, he drives the van (not many people in rehab have valid driver's license) and he needs socks. And, he cannot wait for us to visit when he gets his "free" day.
Alexander is my hero.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: Land of Oz
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: Land of Oz: "There we were, The Land of Oz. My first thought was, where are the donkeys that carry the supplies up this hill? Primitive but peaceful...."
Land of Oz
There we were, The Land of Oz.
My first thought was, where are the donkeys that carry the supplies up this hill?
Primitive but peaceful. Rustic but L.L. Beanish. Not where the stars come.
But damn, this place is on the side of a mountain. I am not kidding. The kind of inclines that when you get out of your car, the doors want to shut.
We find the office and off we go.
We sit down for a little "question and answer period".
For the second time this year, I was very proud of my son and they way he was handling himself. First is when he lost by one point at the state championship match and then at this very moment.
Across the hall there was a "meeting" in session. He said to me, "you know I am going to have to stand up and say "My name is Button". He shook his head looked down. I knew what he was thinking, he should be in college introducing himself.
"Button, by the time you are done with this, a group of kids will have flunked out and you will get their spot...don't worry about it."
And then, there was a chance for us to ask questions. First question "button" asks, "can I go running here?"
I swear, this man behind the desk looked at him with enormous eyes and says, "running, on your feet?"
I know he was looking to see if the "button" had hoofs and was part Billy Goat Gruff. There is no way you can run at this place and if you can, you are an Olympian.
And then we walked to the car to get his bags. Group hug. And then, Walker patted him on his back and said, "you've got this". I thought I was going to melt, melt, melt.
I did not want to fall apart. I too thought we would be dropping him off at college but we were not. I guess it doesn't really matter how you get there as long as you get where you need to go.
I got in the car and we left. It was at that moment that I was so grateful to have my husband. He wasn't there but he was there in spirit. Many parents do this alone. Just a mom or just a dad. Sometimes it is grandparents. But I knew when I got to the bottom of the mountain and my ears had popped and there was a signal again, I could talk to my husband.
I was so proud of "button" for wanting to do the right thing and sad too. And, honestly, as hopeful as I was, I just knew this was only the beginning.
And off we drove. Some where on a mountainside, my "button" is growing and doing what he needs to do and it is killing me that I cannot help and I don't know what is going on.
But that is part of it.
In the end, it was about Dorothy and what she was willing to do to get home. I pray it happens for him too.
My first thought was, where are the donkeys that carry the supplies up this hill?
Primitive but peaceful. Rustic but L.L. Beanish. Not where the stars come.
But damn, this place is on the side of a mountain. I am not kidding. The kind of inclines that when you get out of your car, the doors want to shut.
We find the office and off we go.
We sit down for a little "question and answer period".
For the second time this year, I was very proud of my son and they way he was handling himself. First is when he lost by one point at the state championship match and then at this very moment.
Across the hall there was a "meeting" in session. He said to me, "you know I am going to have to stand up and say "My name is Button". He shook his head looked down. I knew what he was thinking, he should be in college introducing himself.
"Button, by the time you are done with this, a group of kids will have flunked out and you will get their spot...don't worry about it."
And then, there was a chance for us to ask questions. First question "button" asks, "can I go running here?"
I swear, this man behind the desk looked at him with enormous eyes and says, "running, on your feet?"
I know he was looking to see if the "button" had hoofs and was part Billy Goat Gruff. There is no way you can run at this place and if you can, you are an Olympian.
And then we walked to the car to get his bags. Group hug. And then, Walker patted him on his back and said, "you've got this". I thought I was going to melt, melt, melt.
I did not want to fall apart. I too thought we would be dropping him off at college but we were not. I guess it doesn't really matter how you get there as long as you get where you need to go.
I got in the car and we left. It was at that moment that I was so grateful to have my husband. He wasn't there but he was there in spirit. Many parents do this alone. Just a mom or just a dad. Sometimes it is grandparents. But I knew when I got to the bottom of the mountain and my ears had popped and there was a signal again, I could talk to my husband.
I was so proud of "button" for wanting to do the right thing and sad too. And, honestly, as hopeful as I was, I just knew this was only the beginning.
And off we drove. Some where on a mountainside, my "button" is growing and doing what he needs to do and it is killing me that I cannot help and I don't know what is going on.
But that is part of it.
In the end, it was about Dorothy and what she was willing to do to get home. I pray it happens for him too.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Off to see the Wizard!
After the Five Guys Feast, the "button" was whisked out of the county, Casey Anthony style, minus the protesters.
With a quick visit with Franklin, "the button", Walker, Addie and I headed to the Land of Oz. You know, the yellow brick road, "if I only had a brain", land of flying monkeys, REHAB.
We were off to Rehab. Voluntary Rehab. Not court ordered, voluntary.
Why did Franklin stay behind? Great question. "It is about the "button", not you. We don't care about, you won't get a tour and we are not into getting to know you, only the "button." If two parents are in the car with one child, there is a greater chance to "attack" the child and you don't want to drop him off in the Land of Oz angry. Oh, and don't talk on the trip, just listen." The rules and suggestions via the "intake" representative.
Not sure why it was decided that I be the quiet driver, but off we went.
My kids are not good car riders. In fact, they are the worst.
This trip they were angels. No "he touched me", "he looked out my window" or "her feet stink". Delightful. They shared watched movies and talked.
The "button" very rarely stopped talking if the movie wasn't playing. And yes, the talk was about summer camp. Walker an Addie asked every question you could think of and he answered them. Now, you can tell your kids something one hundred times and they don't remember, sing a dirty song like the "diarrhea song" and they have it down first time. That is pretty much how the summer camp question and answer period went. My two kids are now correctional facility experts.
And finally, when the little ones dozed off, the big question came from him to me, "Mom, I am going to ask dad this too but how can I repay you for this?"
"Complete the program"
"No kidding, what else?"
"Pick a kick ass nursing home for me, going to need it. Miss Mary wants to be my roomie. We want happy hour daily, I want a Hallmark occasionally and fresh cut flowers weekly. And, I want you to remember this moment then cause I won't."
He smiled.
We checked in to a hotel and for the first time since June, all my kids were in bed under the same roof as me. In the morning, they were still there. Wow. I was happy.
And then, in the strangest twist of ironic fate, I let the "button" and Walker go drive the car to the front of the hotel while I checked out.
As soon as the car came around the corner, I knew something was wrong. The "button" was pale as good be. He jumps out of the car and says, "we have been robbed, the car was broken into".
How ironic is this? In less than 24 hours after getting OUT of summer camp, the "button" is filing a police report and giving a statement to the police. Hilarious. Sorry, but seriously, how funny is this?
Apparently a 13, 14 and 16 trio stole a car, then stole Walker's new back-to-school backpack and filled it with stolen GPS systems, filmed their adventure, jumped out of a moving vehicle and let the car crash into a parked one. 13! Are you kidding me? Why wasn't she at home watching Selena Gomez of the Justin Beiber movie. This story will be retold by my kids for the next 20 years and I can tell you, when the policeman pulled out sunglasses and fingerprinted them, all three of them went crazy.
I feel badly for the parents who answered those phone calls that night from the police. The beginning.
Anyway, the "button" was stunned at how nice police could be when you are the victim. The policeman was impressed with how mannerly and "mature" the "button was to him. "Nice young man you have there Mrs. G." If he only knew the story. If he only knew what I was doing 24 hours earlier. If he only knew how scared the "button" was when he said the word "fingerprints".
Anyway, after the police left we were on our way.
And as the exits signs decreased in numbers, the "button" and Walker seemed to grow more anxious.
Right before we approached the exit ramp, I announced how proud I was of them this trip and how much fun we had on our adventure and how much money the resturants we ate at lost ( all you can eat places are no match for the my kids) and how proud I was of being their mom. I wanted all trips to be this nice.
By the time I finished my heartfelt speech, we were there. The Land of Oz.
With a quick visit with Franklin, "the button", Walker, Addie and I headed to the Land of Oz. You know, the yellow brick road, "if I only had a brain", land of flying monkeys, REHAB.
We were off to Rehab. Voluntary Rehab. Not court ordered, voluntary.
Why did Franklin stay behind? Great question. "It is about the "button", not you. We don't care about, you won't get a tour and we are not into getting to know you, only the "button." If two parents are in the car with one child, there is a greater chance to "attack" the child and you don't want to drop him off in the Land of Oz angry. Oh, and don't talk on the trip, just listen." The rules and suggestions via the "intake" representative.
Not sure why it was decided that I be the quiet driver, but off we went.
My kids are not good car riders. In fact, they are the worst.
This trip they were angels. No "he touched me", "he looked out my window" or "her feet stink". Delightful. They shared watched movies and talked.
The "button" very rarely stopped talking if the movie wasn't playing. And yes, the talk was about summer camp. Walker an Addie asked every question you could think of and he answered them. Now, you can tell your kids something one hundred times and they don't remember, sing a dirty song like the "diarrhea song" and they have it down first time. That is pretty much how the summer camp question and answer period went. My two kids are now correctional facility experts.
And finally, when the little ones dozed off, the big question came from him to me, "Mom, I am going to ask dad this too but how can I repay you for this?"
"Complete the program"
"No kidding, what else?"
"Pick a kick ass nursing home for me, going to need it. Miss Mary wants to be my roomie. We want happy hour daily, I want a Hallmark occasionally and fresh cut flowers weekly. And, I want you to remember this moment then cause I won't."
He smiled.
We checked in to a hotel and for the first time since June, all my kids were in bed under the same roof as me. In the morning, they were still there. Wow. I was happy.
And then, in the strangest twist of ironic fate, I let the "button" and Walker go drive the car to the front of the hotel while I checked out.
As soon as the car came around the corner, I knew something was wrong. The "button" was pale as good be. He jumps out of the car and says, "we have been robbed, the car was broken into".
How ironic is this? In less than 24 hours after getting OUT of summer camp, the "button" is filing a police report and giving a statement to the police. Hilarious. Sorry, but seriously, how funny is this?
Apparently a 13, 14 and 16 trio stole a car, then stole Walker's new back-to-school backpack and filled it with stolen GPS systems, filmed their adventure, jumped out of a moving vehicle and let the car crash into a parked one. 13! Are you kidding me? Why wasn't she at home watching Selena Gomez of the Justin Beiber movie. This story will be retold by my kids for the next 20 years and I can tell you, when the policeman pulled out sunglasses and fingerprinted them, all three of them went crazy.
I feel badly for the parents who answered those phone calls that night from the police. The beginning.
Anyway, the "button" was stunned at how nice police could be when you are the victim. The policeman was impressed with how mannerly and "mature" the "button was to him. "Nice young man you have there Mrs. G." If he only knew the story. If he only knew what I was doing 24 hours earlier. If he only knew how scared the "button" was when he said the word "fingerprints".
Anyway, after the police left we were on our way.
And as the exits signs decreased in numbers, the "button" and Walker seemed to grow more anxious.
Right before we approached the exit ramp, I announced how proud I was of them this trip and how much fun we had on our adventure and how much money the resturants we ate at lost ( all you can eat places are no match for the my kids) and how proud I was of being their mom. I wanted all trips to be this nice.
By the time I finished my heartfelt speech, we were there. The Land of Oz.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
summer camp is over!
A few hours ago, I picked up the "button" at summer camp.
There weren't any hugs. No exchange of addresses. No joyous voices saying, "mom, this is the guy I was telling you about". No sunburns either. And there certainly wasn't any "Cannot WAIT to come back next year".
Instead it was a young man looking at his mom through the glass and he tried to dance a jig (not always easy when your hands and feet are secured) with a big cheesy grin.
I stood outside and in the "holding area" (that's where the police cars bring them in, batcave like) and watched all the tv monitors through the glass. The only thing I could thing of was, "one of these things is not like the others, one of these just doesn't belong, can you guess which thing is not like the others, before I finish my song?" Straight from Sesame Street.
And then, what seemed like a lifetime, the "button" came through the doors, with our new friend, a guardian angel, "Mr. R".
Mr. R is a big man, giant blue eyes and the biggest angel you will ever know.
We stood there, the three of us, and he told "the button", "this is it man, a new beginning and a second chance...not many people get it. Before you walk out this door, know what you are getting and seize it."
The "button" grabbed his transparent bag of minimal belongs, nodded, hugged, thanked and then said let's go".
Talk about the walk of shame. Jail slippers and socks and clothes that have been dirty for over a month, that is what he sported.
I wouldn't get out of a car one time because there was a smudge on my white shoes and here my son is walking out in public with Jail slippers and dirty socks.
After a dental teeth cleaning, hair cut, new shoes and a 40 minute shower, he was a new man on the outside.
He is a forever changed man on the inside. He never quit talking. Never.
What did he miss the most?
1. fresh air
2. soap
3. soft clothes, sheets and towels
4. silence
5. sunrise and sunset
What has he discovered?
1. Shame
2. Seeking of forgiveness
3. Character
4. who his friends are and are not
5. and once again, the only people still there were those damn evil parents
What did I notice the most?
1. Humbleness
2. how appreciative he was about everything
3. a new sense of maturity
4. calmness
5. a new found wisdom
He noticed that people "on the outside are obsessed with cell phones" and he is bothered by this. Interesting, because he was. When we shopped, he was only interested in items that were soft. Not the labels, just the softness.
He told his stories and released his feelings.
And then, he told me that he was awarded the "good housekeeping award" from the guards. He always had the cleanest cell and he bought a bar of Irish spring just to sit out and use a an air freshener and everybody always commented on how clean his cell smelled. He asked for a mop and bucket of soapy water everytime he was moved and he washed down his area. Yes, it was my "summer camp" "damn I am proud of my boy moment.
I got his siblings and headed for every "campers" favorite hot spot, Five Guys and Burgers and Fries. Two big burgers, one large fry and one regular Cajun is what he consumed.
I looked in my rear view mirror and noticed that he was in the middle seat, the siblings were on each side of him, holding his sands while they watched a movie.
For the first time on months, my ass cheeks were not clenched tight enough to open a coke bottle and there was some joy going through my veins.
Maybe summer camp wasn't so bad after all.
There weren't any hugs. No exchange of addresses. No joyous voices saying, "mom, this is the guy I was telling you about". No sunburns either. And there certainly wasn't any "Cannot WAIT to come back next year".
Instead it was a young man looking at his mom through the glass and he tried to dance a jig (not always easy when your hands and feet are secured) with a big cheesy grin.
I stood outside and in the "holding area" (that's where the police cars bring them in, batcave like) and watched all the tv monitors through the glass. The only thing I could thing of was, "one of these things is not like the others, one of these just doesn't belong, can you guess which thing is not like the others, before I finish my song?" Straight from Sesame Street.
And then, what seemed like a lifetime, the "button" came through the doors, with our new friend, a guardian angel, "Mr. R".
Mr. R is a big man, giant blue eyes and the biggest angel you will ever know.
We stood there, the three of us, and he told "the button", "this is it man, a new beginning and a second chance...not many people get it. Before you walk out this door, know what you are getting and seize it."
The "button" grabbed his transparent bag of minimal belongs, nodded, hugged, thanked and then said let's go".
Talk about the walk of shame. Jail slippers and socks and clothes that have been dirty for over a month, that is what he sported.
I wouldn't get out of a car one time because there was a smudge on my white shoes and here my son is walking out in public with Jail slippers and dirty socks.
After a dental teeth cleaning, hair cut, new shoes and a 40 minute shower, he was a new man on the outside.
He is a forever changed man on the inside. He never quit talking. Never.
What did he miss the most?
1. fresh air
2. soap
3. soft clothes, sheets and towels
4. silence
5. sunrise and sunset
What has he discovered?
1. Shame
2. Seeking of forgiveness
3. Character
4. who his friends are and are not
5. and once again, the only people still there were those damn evil parents
What did I notice the most?
1. Humbleness
2. how appreciative he was about everything
3. a new sense of maturity
4. calmness
5. a new found wisdom
He noticed that people "on the outside are obsessed with cell phones" and he is bothered by this. Interesting, because he was. When we shopped, he was only interested in items that were soft. Not the labels, just the softness.
He told his stories and released his feelings.
And then, he told me that he was awarded the "good housekeeping award" from the guards. He always had the cleanest cell and he bought a bar of Irish spring just to sit out and use a an air freshener and everybody always commented on how clean his cell smelled. He asked for a mop and bucket of soapy water everytime he was moved and he washed down his area. Yes, it was my "summer camp" "damn I am proud of my boy moment.
I got his siblings and headed for every "campers" favorite hot spot, Five Guys and Burgers and Fries. Two big burgers, one large fry and one regular Cajun is what he consumed.
I looked in my rear view mirror and noticed that he was in the middle seat, the siblings were on each side of him, holding his sands while they watched a movie.
For the first time on months, my ass cheeks were not clenched tight enough to open a coke bottle and there was some joy going through my veins.
Maybe summer camp wasn't so bad after all.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Tigger and Eeyore
One fine night with some wonderful lady friends and a few glasses of wine, I announced that I totally believe that you are either a Tigger or an Eeyore.
My friends laughed.
I am serious and I am a Tigger.
Several people have asked Franklin and me what we did after the "button" was arrested. We did what anyone would do if they had a thumb tac up their behind. We sat around for two days and complained and wallowed in self pity.
Then we got up and realized that the tac in our ass was never going to leave if we didn't start bouncing around. We went back to being Tiggers.
The funny thing about Tiggers, they don't give up. We were bound and determined to find a solution for the "button" that didn't cost several honey pots.
I pounced into offices. I called people. I was relentless. If you can get a child to an eye doctor, you can find a solution for your troubled child.
Here are a few things I found out, if you have a diploma and a driver's license and are 18, it will be tough. If you have ever been found guilty of "harmful to animals" or "arson", give up and go back to square one.
There are ways to get your children help, but YOU need to go looking.
I am sure that when I burst into the one lady's office, she didn't appreciate my Tigger attitude. In fact, I think I saw her mouth something that started with the letter "B" and I don't think it was "silly old bear". Anyway, I got what I needed and I bounced out of there.
Today, I went to Summer Camp. I was accompanied by a delightful young lady, "H". She is a Tigger. And yes, many people gave both us Tigger's grief, her for going to camp and me for allowing it. Screw the Eeyores. She learned and she grew. I did too and we bounced all the way home happy for what we had learned and more importantly she bounced because she knew in her heart she showed someone she was a True Friend.
During our summer camp session, we learned that others had written to the "button" and told him that when he gets out, they have a joint waiting for him.
I can assure you that this Tigger will find out who those people are, break their hands and bounce all the way home, singing. "FUN, FUN,FUN, FUN".
I have always been amazed by Eeyores. If Eeyore would quit complaining and ask someone to pull the tac out, he wouldn't be so miserable. Bottom line, get off your butt and make it happen. And, if they don't hear you the first time,say it again, LOUDER until you can action.
Together, Franklin and I have danced all through Pooh Forest, and I mean that literally to help find some happy ending.
The story isn't ending, it is just beginning.
My friends laughed.
I am serious and I am a Tigger.
Several people have asked Franklin and me what we did after the "button" was arrested. We did what anyone would do if they had a thumb tac up their behind. We sat around for two days and complained and wallowed in self pity.
Then we got up and realized that the tac in our ass was never going to leave if we didn't start bouncing around. We went back to being Tiggers.
The funny thing about Tiggers, they don't give up. We were bound and determined to find a solution for the "button" that didn't cost several honey pots.
I pounced into offices. I called people. I was relentless. If you can get a child to an eye doctor, you can find a solution for your troubled child.
Here are a few things I found out, if you have a diploma and a driver's license and are 18, it will be tough. If you have ever been found guilty of "harmful to animals" or "arson", give up and go back to square one.
There are ways to get your children help, but YOU need to go looking.
I am sure that when I burst into the one lady's office, she didn't appreciate my Tigger attitude. In fact, I think I saw her mouth something that started with the letter "B" and I don't think it was "silly old bear". Anyway, I got what I needed and I bounced out of there.
Today, I went to Summer Camp. I was accompanied by a delightful young lady, "H". She is a Tigger. And yes, many people gave both us Tigger's grief, her for going to camp and me for allowing it. Screw the Eeyores. She learned and she grew. I did too and we bounced all the way home happy for what we had learned and more importantly she bounced because she knew in her heart she showed someone she was a True Friend.
During our summer camp session, we learned that others had written to the "button" and told him that when he gets out, they have a joint waiting for him.
I can assure you that this Tigger will find out who those people are, break their hands and bounce all the way home, singing. "FUN, FUN,FUN, FUN".
I have always been amazed by Eeyores. If Eeyore would quit complaining and ask someone to pull the tac out, he wouldn't be so miserable. Bottom line, get off your butt and make it happen. And, if they don't hear you the first time,say it again, LOUDER until you can action.
Together, Franklin and I have danced all through Pooh Forest, and I mean that literally to help find some happy ending.
The story isn't ending, it is just beginning.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
the dumbest you ever are is when you are 18
thanks to my dear friend "k" for the above quote.
several people have emailed me private questions. here are the public answers.
1. did the "button" ever sneak out?
all the time...especially friday and saturday nights. three day weekends were especially tough because that meant they could sneak out sunday night as well.
2. how did you know he was sneaking out?
well the obvious was he wasn't in bed. other clues... shoes...shoes by all the doors...get away shoes and coming in shoes...usually wet in the morning...and mulch inside the house and in his room.
doors, doors left opened leading into the house...bikes placed around the house so they can make a quick get away.
3. why haven't you bailed him out? he is a flight risk and we told him we would only bail him out one time. he used that mulligan in may. we weren't kidding.
4. did you look for "stuff" in his room and where did you find out? yes, absolutely. where did i find it, i got down on the floor and looked up...under beds, taped under furniture, in old garment bags, underneath things in boxes and in socks. between the mattress and box springs and i looked for slits in box springs. crawl spaces too.
5. as a parent, what should i look for? a random "out of the blue" new friend in your childs' life and a major change in attitude. looking back, every time, both of those were present, problems followed. obviously, baggies, lighters and eye drops are not good signs...but the change in attitude is usually a game changer. fragrance sprays and colognes are warning signs too.
pay attention, get as many phone numbers as you can, kids and parents, check up on the child, DO NOT TRUST SLEEPOVERS! know the parents, hide your money and hide your car keys at night...hide your money during the day...don't give your child large bills...and write down when you give them the monies. amazing how much money they need for lousy cafeteria lunches all the sudden when their behavior isn't on the up and up...and when they ask for it, you hand it over during that morning chaos and forget about it. write it down.
if your child starts "running" but doesn't sweat alot, that is an alarm...they run to entrances, get picked up and go off to do whatever. pretty sure it isn't poetry readings.
hide your medicines and any liquor that you have and notice if your child is spending a ton of time in the woods. alot of activity can happen n the woods. also pay attention if backpacks are missing.i f the backpack are missing, they are hidden somewhere with "stuff". if you child has a new obsession with energy drinks, pay attention. they drink the energy drinks to stay up and out all night. do not put your child on aderol. chances are the are snorting it. huge epidemic with aderol now. if your child ever wants to enlist or go to rehab, you cannot be on or have been on it.
6. have you told your other children? absolutely. you cannot hide facts if someone isn't here. yes, we have been honest about the situation. we cannot ask our kids to be honest with us if we are not honest with them.
7. what if the "button" is upset about this blog? hmmm, don't know the answer yet. obviously, i would never do anything to jeopardize his recovery.
8. when should i start paying attention to the things above? typically, i would have said high school. this spring, several middle schoolers in our neighborhood were involved in sneaking out and stealing for refrigerators and smoking pot. my new answer, middle school.
franklin and i are amazed at how many kids are stealing cars at night and taking off, with or without their license. just a few days ago, a friend of frankin's...her 13 year daughter left at 2:30am. she picked up her friend at a convenient store.
9.i think my child is texting but they don't have texting, how can this happen? even though your child may not have "texting" on their phone, if there is Internet capabilities on the phone, they can text through a facebook app and many times they set up random facebook pages with made up names so you as a parent really don't know who they are speaking with and too. pay attention to facebook. also, you can text on an ipod touch. if your child just happens to get an ipod touch that you didn't pay for, panic.
10. what about when they start driving? a few years ago, i overheard a teacher saying to another parent that the "junior year is the most important and the most difficult". kids are driving then and you really do lose control.
it is very important that when they have a ride that they ride show up at your home so you can see who they are what vehicle they drive.
if they are driving a car, inspect it. you cannot expect what you don't inspect. if your child is driving and is always in need of fuses for break lights or headlights, not a good sign. they don't want to be pulled over. missing curfews and always asking for extensions is not good. show up and to see if your child is really where they said they were going. remember, DON"T TRUST SLEEPOVERS.
and finally, franklin and i din't know the answers or even the questions. we learned. the hard way. remember, you know it all at 18 but really, the dumbest you will ever be is when you are 18.
several people have emailed me private questions. here are the public answers.
1. did the "button" ever sneak out?
all the time...especially friday and saturday nights. three day weekends were especially tough because that meant they could sneak out sunday night as well.
2. how did you know he was sneaking out?
well the obvious was he wasn't in bed. other clues... shoes...shoes by all the doors...get away shoes and coming in shoes...usually wet in the morning...and mulch inside the house and in his room.
doors, doors left opened leading into the house...bikes placed around the house so they can make a quick get away.
3. why haven't you bailed him out? he is a flight risk and we told him we would only bail him out one time. he used that mulligan in may. we weren't kidding.
4. did you look for "stuff" in his room and where did you find out? yes, absolutely. where did i find it, i got down on the floor and looked up...under beds, taped under furniture, in old garment bags, underneath things in boxes and in socks. between the mattress and box springs and i looked for slits in box springs. crawl spaces too.
5. as a parent, what should i look for? a random "out of the blue" new friend in your childs' life and a major change in attitude. looking back, every time, both of those were present, problems followed. obviously, baggies, lighters and eye drops are not good signs...but the change in attitude is usually a game changer. fragrance sprays and colognes are warning signs too.
pay attention, get as many phone numbers as you can, kids and parents, check up on the child, DO NOT TRUST SLEEPOVERS! know the parents, hide your money and hide your car keys at night...hide your money during the day...don't give your child large bills...and write down when you give them the monies. amazing how much money they need for lousy cafeteria lunches all the sudden when their behavior isn't on the up and up...and when they ask for it, you hand it over during that morning chaos and forget about it. write it down.
if your child starts "running" but doesn't sweat alot, that is an alarm...they run to entrances, get picked up and go off to do whatever. pretty sure it isn't poetry readings.
hide your medicines and any liquor that you have and notice if your child is spending a ton of time in the woods. alot of activity can happen n the woods. also pay attention if backpacks are missing.i f the backpack are missing, they are hidden somewhere with "stuff". if you child has a new obsession with energy drinks, pay attention. they drink the energy drinks to stay up and out all night. do not put your child on aderol. chances are the are snorting it. huge epidemic with aderol now. if your child ever wants to enlist or go to rehab, you cannot be on or have been on it.
6. have you told your other children? absolutely. you cannot hide facts if someone isn't here. yes, we have been honest about the situation. we cannot ask our kids to be honest with us if we are not honest with them.
7. what if the "button" is upset about this blog? hmmm, don't know the answer yet. obviously, i would never do anything to jeopardize his recovery.
8. when should i start paying attention to the things above? typically, i would have said high school. this spring, several middle schoolers in our neighborhood were involved in sneaking out and stealing for refrigerators and smoking pot. my new answer, middle school.
franklin and i are amazed at how many kids are stealing cars at night and taking off, with or without their license. just a few days ago, a friend of frankin's...her 13 year daughter left at 2:30am. she picked up her friend at a convenient store.
9.i think my child is texting but they don't have texting, how can this happen? even though your child may not have "texting" on their phone, if there is Internet capabilities on the phone, they can text through a facebook app and many times they set up random facebook pages with made up names so you as a parent really don't know who they are speaking with and too. pay attention to facebook. also, you can text on an ipod touch. if your child just happens to get an ipod touch that you didn't pay for, panic.
10. what about when they start driving? a few years ago, i overheard a teacher saying to another parent that the "junior year is the most important and the most difficult". kids are driving then and you really do lose control.
it is very important that when they have a ride that they ride show up at your home so you can see who they are what vehicle they drive.
if they are driving a car, inspect it. you cannot expect what you don't inspect. if your child is driving and is always in need of fuses for break lights or headlights, not a good sign. they don't want to be pulled over. missing curfews and always asking for extensions is not good. show up and to see if your child is really where they said they were going. remember, DON"T TRUST SLEEPOVERS.
and finally, franklin and i din't know the answers or even the questions. we learned. the hard way. remember, you know it all at 18 but really, the dumbest you will ever be is when you are 18.
Monday, August 1, 2011
E.T. phone home
Now that the "button" is attending summer camp, our conversations are limited. He does call but he cannot call everyday. He calls Franklin (my husband) because Franklin is a bail bondsman (i know, the irony) and his phone up for summer camp calls. Not always do I get to speak to him.
Many of you have asked privately, what did the "button" do? I don't know.
It was just like E.T. when he landed in someone's home and while the owner's of the home were gone, E.T. drank, alot.
The "button" has been running away for over year now. And then after wrestling season, he left and just didn't come home.
That is why we didn't get him help. We didn't know where he was.
And then, he found a home. I honestly don't know what happened. I wasn't there. But, what I have been able to piece together in my own mind, he strolled into a beach house and made himself a home. And, just like E.T., the "button" was in over his head and didn't know how to get back home.
Instead of calling or asking us for help, he opened the fridge and started drinking. Not a good thing.
You see, the "button" is adopted. His biological parents both had and still have addiction issues that were never treated. Alcohol was the nemesis.
Since the "button" was five, we have been speaking honestly and openly about his genetic make up and how drugs and alcohol would not be good for him.
But, when you are 18, you don't care what your parents say or what they think.
You are super smart and you are 18.
The criminal acts are not the problem. They are the aftermath. The stimuli are the drugs and the booze.
If your child needs glasses, you take them to the eye doctor. Have a toothache, then off to the dentist you go. This time, we find the tools and the "button" has to do the work.
And seriously, besides therapy, if this blog helps just ONE family or ONE child, that is all we care about.
Now, we are sitting in the woods, with a tool that is a little better than a Fisher Price computer rigged up hoping to get the "button" back.
Nightly, the "button" would get up about two times per night to use the bathroom. The mother hearing was programmed to hearing him open his door, open and close the bathroom door and then go to the bathroom.
I think one night I was sleeping a little too soundly and a space ship landed in my back yard and the "button" was curious so he wondered out there to investigate and a little alien replaced my son.
I am praying that my tools will work and my son will "phone home" again.
Buy stock in Reese's pieces.
Many of you have asked privately, what did the "button" do? I don't know.
It was just like E.T. when he landed in someone's home and while the owner's of the home were gone, E.T. drank, alot.
The "button" has been running away for over year now. And then after wrestling season, he left and just didn't come home.
That is why we didn't get him help. We didn't know where he was.
And then, he found a home. I honestly don't know what happened. I wasn't there. But, what I have been able to piece together in my own mind, he strolled into a beach house and made himself a home. And, just like E.T., the "button" was in over his head and didn't know how to get back home.
Instead of calling or asking us for help, he opened the fridge and started drinking. Not a good thing.
You see, the "button" is adopted. His biological parents both had and still have addiction issues that were never treated. Alcohol was the nemesis.
Since the "button" was five, we have been speaking honestly and openly about his genetic make up and how drugs and alcohol would not be good for him.
But, when you are 18, you don't care what your parents say or what they think.
You are super smart and you are 18.
The criminal acts are not the problem. They are the aftermath. The stimuli are the drugs and the booze.
If your child needs glasses, you take them to the eye doctor. Have a toothache, then off to the dentist you go. This time, we find the tools and the "button" has to do the work.
And seriously, besides therapy, if this blog helps just ONE family or ONE child, that is all we care about.
Now, we are sitting in the woods, with a tool that is a little better than a Fisher Price computer rigged up hoping to get the "button" back.
Nightly, the "button" would get up about two times per night to use the bathroom. The mother hearing was programmed to hearing him open his door, open and close the bathroom door and then go to the bathroom.
I think one night I was sleeping a little too soundly and a space ship landed in my back yard and the "button" was curious so he wondered out there to investigate and a little alien replaced my son.
I am praying that my tools will work and my son will "phone home" again.
Buy stock in Reese's pieces.
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