the story of kids,chaos, mothering challenges and sometimes chocolate
Monday, February 18, 2013
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: charelston
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: charelston: After years of going where the jobs were, I decided to control my destiny and move where I wanted. I took me one visit to know that I neede...
charelston
After years of going where the jobs were, I decided to control my destiny and move where I wanted. It took me one visit to know that I needed to move to Charleston.
Franklin and I had been dating about six months and for his birthday, we went shopping for a place to live.
We were not married and the goal was for me to get established and for him to follow. Oh, the passion. It didn't take long for us to decide for him just to move in and let's get the show on the road.
We loved Charleston. Loved it. We lived a block from the beach and soaked in every moment of history and southern charm.
Our plan was to elope on New Year's Eve, in the Gazebo in the Battery. We had actually taken pictures for a couple doing the same thing one afternoon and it was "us."
On December 16, plans changed. We were awarded custody of another southern charmer, the "button."
You know what they say, a child changes everything. It did. And we loved it.
Finally, our mothers told us to get married. And we did. Fourth of July. Nothing says love like giving up your independence on Independence Day.
We were a family. All three of us. Our son attended pre-school, learning to swim, speak Spanish and "fit into a normal family."
Late last night, we came back from a weekend in Charleston. Franklin, Walker, Addie and I soaked in the southern charm once again.
It was a "different trip." Walker and Franklin spent most of it on the U.S.S. Yorktown. Addie and I were tourists, hotel room, sweatshirts and all.
But, there wasn't a turn that I took that I didn't think of my son.Of course we took the kids to see our old house and I swear I could see the "button" on the back porch celebrating his fifth birthday. My favorite garden spot was still there. I can remember him picking out red Gerber daisies there like it was yesterday. Where had the time gone? I would have said that regardless of his present state. I looked at his old pre school, and all I could think of was his Elmo backpack. I remember him looking at pelicans on the beach and calling them pterodactyls. Yesterday at the aquarium, there were pelicans braving the cold and I just wished I could see my son.
Yesterday, as we left with our favorite place in the rear view mirror, I wondered how different our lives might have been if we never moved. Really, what would have happened? We were a new family and so happy and I would do anything to capture that magic again. The magic of Charleston. As the two in the back seat started to fight, I left that daydream and stared ahead. Straight ahead.
Today he called. We don't get to speak to him very often. I needed to speak to him today. With the news of another young life taken because of a drug overdose, and a trip down memory lane, I just needed to hear his voice.
And I did. What I remember most of the conversation, "Mom, I just want to make you proud."
And, I have no idea how that is going to happen. What I do know is it doesn't get there by looking behind or in any rear view mirror. You only find your new path walking forward. And it doesn't matter where you are, it matters who you are.
And then I thought about my friend, who lost a son, whose favorite quote is "don't be sorry it is over, just be happy it happened."
The beginning, in Charleston, was awesome. I am praying that the middle is just as awesome too.
Franklin and I had been dating about six months and for his birthday, we went shopping for a place to live.
We were not married and the goal was for me to get established and for him to follow. Oh, the passion. It didn't take long for us to decide for him just to move in and let's get the show on the road.
We loved Charleston. Loved it. We lived a block from the beach and soaked in every moment of history and southern charm.
Our plan was to elope on New Year's Eve, in the Gazebo in the Battery. We had actually taken pictures for a couple doing the same thing one afternoon and it was "us."
On December 16, plans changed. We were awarded custody of another southern charmer, the "button."
You know what they say, a child changes everything. It did. And we loved it.
Finally, our mothers told us to get married. And we did. Fourth of July. Nothing says love like giving up your independence on Independence Day.
We were a family. All three of us. Our son attended pre-school, learning to swim, speak Spanish and "fit into a normal family."
Late last night, we came back from a weekend in Charleston. Franklin, Walker, Addie and I soaked in the southern charm once again.
It was a "different trip." Walker and Franklin spent most of it on the U.S.S. Yorktown. Addie and I were tourists, hotel room, sweatshirts and all.
But, there wasn't a turn that I took that I didn't think of my son.Of course we took the kids to see our old house and I swear I could see the "button" on the back porch celebrating his fifth birthday. My favorite garden spot was still there. I can remember him picking out red Gerber daisies there like it was yesterday. Where had the time gone? I would have said that regardless of his present state. I looked at his old pre school, and all I could think of was his Elmo backpack. I remember him looking at pelicans on the beach and calling them pterodactyls. Yesterday at the aquarium, there were pelicans braving the cold and I just wished I could see my son.
Yesterday, as we left with our favorite place in the rear view mirror, I wondered how different our lives might have been if we never moved. Really, what would have happened? We were a new family and so happy and I would do anything to capture that magic again. The magic of Charleston. As the two in the back seat started to fight, I left that daydream and stared ahead. Straight ahead.
Today he called. We don't get to speak to him very often. I needed to speak to him today. With the news of another young life taken because of a drug overdose, and a trip down memory lane, I just needed to hear his voice.
And I did. What I remember most of the conversation, "Mom, I just want to make you proud."
And, I have no idea how that is going to happen. What I do know is it doesn't get there by looking behind or in any rear view mirror. You only find your new path walking forward. And it doesn't matter where you are, it matters who you are.
And then I thought about my friend, who lost a son, whose favorite quote is "don't be sorry it is over, just be happy it happened."
The beginning, in Charleston, was awesome. I am praying that the middle is just as awesome too.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Wrestling with Wrestling
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Wrestling with Wrestling: When the "button" was in the sixth grade, he came to me and told me that he was trying out for the middle school baseball team. As a catche...
Wrestling with Wrestling
When the "button" was in the sixth grade, he came to me and told me that he was trying out for the middle school baseball team. As a catcher, all 80 pounds of him.
"Well, good luck. I have to tell you though, that as a catcher, you need to be one of the biggest players on the team, to block the base, you are the smallest. I really, really want you to reconsider and go out for wrestling."
"Mom, in middle school, it isn't about who you are, it is about what you do." Foreshadowing.
"Well, we will support you but just know it will be tough."
He tried out and he didn't make it. So, he asked me, "what about the wrestling.?"
"Embrace what the good Lord gave you."
He did. And he didn't miss a starting match for six years. Wrestling became his, and our family's passion.
Wrestling isn't just about six minutes on a mat. It is about strength, conditioning, making weight, ringworm, infectious skin disease, wrestling shoes, core strength and food. It is about getting up early in the morning, getting to the bus and parents following behind. It is about getting your face smashed into the mat and somehow getting out of that. And it is about a weird family that grows from all of this. It is about checking boys for ringworm, watching teenage boys go to bed at eight pm on a Friday night, after watching the Food Network (pron for wrestlers) for hours.
My bff told me the thing that amazes her most about me is my affection for wrestling. There isn't a mother alive that starts out loving wrestling. It is hard to watch. That is your son, or another mother's son out there and it is hard to watch.
I was "the" parent that was there every match, with food for after weigh ins, food and drink for the coaches, etc. And my son flourished. He was very successful. He was fun to watch. He was the wrestler that other wrestlers liked.
He did well.
The night of the biggest match of his career, the state finals his senior year, I knew if he did indeed lose to the the defending champion, he would not handle it well. I had no idea.
He lost, by one point.
And he was a class act. I was so proud.
Wrestling season is a long one. September to April. In April, the "button" was visited by a college for his "first official visit." It was official, he was going to wrestle in college. That night, he left the house, in the middle of the night and never really returned. That evening was a great one and a horrible one, all in a few hours.
And while we mourned to get our son back, we mourned wrestling as well. Walker continued to participate but it was very awkward for us to attend or to answer questions about the "button". But, Walker kept participating and so we had to put on a brave face.
I was avoiding anyone that was associated with wrestling. I couldn't do it. My son had been a well seasoned wrestler, one that people liked to watch, came to watch, and wanted him to do well in his college wrestling.
And then, after being the sports page darling, he became the crime blotter headliner.
One day in the car, Walker asked me why I acted funny when I picked him up from wrestling. I told him that I didn't know that I did act funny. (what a lie that was).
He asked me if we could go to a match. I said yes. We would go. And I was sick about my decision. Sick. But at that same time, I felt a strange affection for attending. There are four of the boys that had been there with the "button" and I wanted to see them. They had been friends of his and ours and I did want to go. Seriously, we could do this.
In the parking lot, before we walked in, Walker asked, "what do we do if they stare at us or ask us questions?"
"Just smile, if we smile, they will smile."
We walked in, to the usual bleacher spot and yes, we heard the gasps. Both kids heard the too. We sat down and there was silence, all around. It was like on the news when they show people in crowd and they highlight the crowds and dim the others.
And then, a few people spoke. Within minutes, it was just like nothing happened.
In the car, on the way home, it occurred to me that what I was dreading to face, gave me the most peace and composure. Some memories are so fond, you just like to have them around.
Tonight, the boys wrestle at home on the trail for another state title. Yes, we are going. I cannot wait. I am glad to feel my son's spirit and I know he would be cheering the guys on and screaming wildly from the bleachers. I know that wrestling was the one thing that gave my son joy (that was legal) and taught him so much about himself.
I also know that wrestling will always be a part of our family. I know that my hemorrhoids from sitting in bleachers for years we earned with pride.
And I know that that my wrestling family feels the pain in our hearts. And I also know that they are siliently cheering for the "button" who contines to wrestle, daily, with his demons and his choices.
"Well, good luck. I have to tell you though, that as a catcher, you need to be one of the biggest players on the team, to block the base, you are the smallest. I really, really want you to reconsider and go out for wrestling."
"Mom, in middle school, it isn't about who you are, it is about what you do." Foreshadowing.
"Well, we will support you but just know it will be tough."
He tried out and he didn't make it. So, he asked me, "what about the wrestling.?"
"Embrace what the good Lord gave you."
He did. And he didn't miss a starting match for six years. Wrestling became his, and our family's passion.
Wrestling isn't just about six minutes on a mat. It is about strength, conditioning, making weight, ringworm, infectious skin disease, wrestling shoes, core strength and food. It is about getting up early in the morning, getting to the bus and parents following behind. It is about getting your face smashed into the mat and somehow getting out of that. And it is about a weird family that grows from all of this. It is about checking boys for ringworm, watching teenage boys go to bed at eight pm on a Friday night, after watching the Food Network (pron for wrestlers) for hours.
My bff told me the thing that amazes her most about me is my affection for wrestling. There isn't a mother alive that starts out loving wrestling. It is hard to watch. That is your son, or another mother's son out there and it is hard to watch.
I was "the" parent that was there every match, with food for after weigh ins, food and drink for the coaches, etc. And my son flourished. He was very successful. He was fun to watch. He was the wrestler that other wrestlers liked.
He did well.
The night of the biggest match of his career, the state finals his senior year, I knew if he did indeed lose to the the defending champion, he would not handle it well. I had no idea.
He lost, by one point.
And he was a class act. I was so proud.
Wrestling season is a long one. September to April. In April, the "button" was visited by a college for his "first official visit." It was official, he was going to wrestle in college. That night, he left the house, in the middle of the night and never really returned. That evening was a great one and a horrible one, all in a few hours.
And while we mourned to get our son back, we mourned wrestling as well. Walker continued to participate but it was very awkward for us to attend or to answer questions about the "button". But, Walker kept participating and so we had to put on a brave face.
I was avoiding anyone that was associated with wrestling. I couldn't do it. My son had been a well seasoned wrestler, one that people liked to watch, came to watch, and wanted him to do well in his college wrestling.
And then, after being the sports page darling, he became the crime blotter headliner.
One day in the car, Walker asked me why I acted funny when I picked him up from wrestling. I told him that I didn't know that I did act funny. (what a lie that was).
He asked me if we could go to a match. I said yes. We would go. And I was sick about my decision. Sick. But at that same time, I felt a strange affection for attending. There are four of the boys that had been there with the "button" and I wanted to see them. They had been friends of his and ours and I did want to go. Seriously, we could do this.
In the parking lot, before we walked in, Walker asked, "what do we do if they stare at us or ask us questions?"
"Just smile, if we smile, they will smile."
We walked in, to the usual bleacher spot and yes, we heard the gasps. Both kids heard the too. We sat down and there was silence, all around. It was like on the news when they show people in crowd and they highlight the crowds and dim the others.
And then, a few people spoke. Within minutes, it was just like nothing happened.
In the car, on the way home, it occurred to me that what I was dreading to face, gave me the most peace and composure. Some memories are so fond, you just like to have them around.
Tonight, the boys wrestle at home on the trail for another state title. Yes, we are going. I cannot wait. I am glad to feel my son's spirit and I know he would be cheering the guys on and screaming wildly from the bleachers. I know that wrestling was the one thing that gave my son joy (that was legal) and taught him so much about himself.
I also know that wrestling will always be a part of our family. I know that my hemorrhoids from sitting in bleachers for years we earned with pride.
And I know that that my wrestling family feels the pain in our hearts. And I also know that they are siliently cheering for the "button" who contines to wrestle, daily, with his demons and his choices.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Sea Monkeys
Sea Monkeys. My childhood obsession. My brother and I would find the ad in the back of the TV Guide or the back of Sixteen Magazine and beg my mom to order them for us. The thought of sprinkling something into a fish bowl and waking up with sea monkeys was more than we could bear. Sea Monkeys! How awesome. My mom never ordered them.
"They are a ripoff". My mom was not buying into the thought of sea monkeys, the over night primate sensation.
Over the past year, my phone rings, i answer it and on the other end is a mom (start inserting sobs) who is in need of advice. She is on the first part of the trip, the "my child has a substance abuse problem" trip. And she is obsessed with fixing the problem. She wants to know where she can purchase sea monkeys.
Today, my phone rang, again. It was a friend. A dear friend. And she was crying. And then, she spilled the beans. "I have to take my son to a rehab facility. He has a substance abuse problem."
And all I could say was breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
I listened to her. And I could her myself in her a year ago. Scared and "I have to fix this" mode.
And I said to her, what I wish someone would have said to me, "slow down and let your child own this and own the recovery. Get into therapy, all of you. "
And, like all of the other mothers, she said this "I wish I would have done certain things and I have made mistakes but I don't understand what causes the pain that leads to addiction."
The million dollar mystery. It is simple, when you are a substance abuser, what it is that you abuse, is what gives you the greatest joy. Had a bad day, drink a case of beer. Had a great day, drink a case of beer. Don't feel like going to class, drink a beer. You went to class, now drink a beer. Never does the beer say," pick up your clothes, go see your grandfather, your checking account is overdrawn, take out the trash or get your elbows off the table.' Some people eat mac and cheese, chips and dip, chocolate or Marlboro 100's. Mac and cheese will make you chunky, but chances are, you won't lose your job, your girlfriend, wife, drivers license or serve jail time.l You may be constipated from all the cheese but you will not be wearing orange.
The substance makes "ice cream taste better, movies funnier, sex better, and I am able to run faster". Those words will be etched into my brain, Franklin's as well, forever. Those words started our adventure.
And we too wanted sea monkeys. Let's put our kid in rehab, 28 eight days, look at the sea monkeys and get back to normal. There are not sea monkeys.
Looking back, panic was at the base of every decision. Panic kept us up and night and panic kept us going during the day. Panic fueled are bad decisions.
Looking back, we should have slowed down to move forward. We should have allowed our child to own it, help design treatment and recovery and the road ahead.
Typical, I went all Type A on the situation and went in to fix-it asap mode.
I should have taken my own advice, I should have been sucking in breaths and exhaling slowly. And I should have remembered what my mom said, "sea monkeys are a rip off."
Knowing that your child needs help is the most important part of the ailment. Knowing. But, and it is a big but, it is only the beginning. Now the work starts. And it takes a long time. It feels like an eternity.
Today's call was the worst. This mom has been my friend since I moved to NC. Our kids have a history and she is and has been a great mom. We have dieted together. We have laughed together. Our kids have been a huge glue for our friendship.
I felt her pain and her panic in all of my veins. And tonight, while I lay awake and stare at the ceiling with a million more questions, I have one more to add tonight, why aren't there sea monkeys for moms?
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