it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: A Birthday Present from Crystal Meth Bev

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: A Birthday Present from Crystal Meth Bev: It is that time of year again, my birthday.  During the last 364 days, I have spent a lot of time thinking about my legacy.  A wicked sense ...

A Birthday Present from Crystal Meth Bev

It is that time of year again, my birthday.  During the last 364 days, I have spent a lot of time thinking about my legacy.  A wicked sense of humor, big boobs and a boisterous laugh is not how I want to be remembered.

The Internet and email is taken.  I think about my Prom Date and how he and his wife lost their son and created a home for veteran's.  Today, I met a woman who is going to be blind, her father already is blind and she has started a resource center for blind people.  Making good banana cake doesn't hold a candle to either.

And it isn't just about contributing, it is about who I end up being.  I want to be a softer, kinder, more understanding person.  I had a conversation with my friend Mary.  Mary is going to be my roommate in the assisted living center.  She said , "maybe it is just an age thing that we want to be more understanding."

Birthday or no Birthday, I want to make a difference.

Today I went to Summer Camp.  I got there early.  I felt like I was cheating on my new  BFF's but I had too.

Great visit. 

Afterward, the elevator opened, and there were two of the three.  The first thing I noticed was Crystal Meth Bev.  She had a bra on her fifth grade like body, she was clean, her hair was fixed and she smiled the biggest grin.  All three teeth were showing. 

The quiet Hispanic lady just smiled.  She asked,"good?"  "Yes," I responded.

CMB says, "what the hell, you always go the second shift?"

"I have to get to an appointment."

"Well, you are not gonna guess what f------ happened to me?"

Okay, she had me.  I had to hear it.

"Let me hear it."

"Well, I read  the my second book in my life, first one was the driver's manual.  I got that book about the baseball player from Raleigh."

"Did you steal the book?"  I had to ask.

"No ass----.  My mama bought it for me.  And I read it.  Not all of it.  But I started it."

You could have knocked me over with a feather.  One, she knew  how to read, two, there was a mother and three, she did it.

"And guess what else, haven't had a drink in four days.  Got my job back and went to a meeting."

 I looked at her and was so stunned I couldn't speak.

She says, "go head, smile, you know you want to, just smile."

I started to laugh.  And then it came out, "I am really proud of you CMB."

She threw her head back and said, "I told my boss you were going to say that."

I had to know, so I asked.  "Why did you get the book?"

"Well, I always wanted kids..  Always.  And then I got one and I was so proud and I loved being a mom and being his mom  and then I just got all caught up in being a responsible and all grown up and working and money  and I just started partying and then my kid started partying and we were all partying and everything was just going to shit and I just kept partying and pretending I was a kid. I need to grow up if I want my kid to grow up.  I used to be proud of him and me, then I just started getting drunk.  If that baseball player can do it, I can too."

"CMB, you have made my day. Go up there, tell your son you love him and you are going to change with him . You can do this CMB." 

She looked in my eyes, and I kind of felt like she was going in for a hug and I panicked a little cause that would have just been too much for me so I asked, "what kind of job did you get?"

"cleaning houses."  OMG, I lost it. 

She looked at me, really looked at me, and said, "thanks for helping me and my kid."

Seriously, I felt like the Grinch on that mountain when he hears the Hoo's singing in Hooville. 

"You are welcome.  Don't drink.  Think about your life."

"You coming next week?"

"Yes CMB, I am coming, and I might have my other kids with me so watch your language."

"F-------- A".  And then she laughed.

During my visit, my son said to me, "I don't want everyone to think I am a screw up.  I am going to make something of myself.  I just needed to grow up MOM, seriously, I needed to grow up."

The day we went to the termination of parental rights hearing for the button's biological dad, my eyes were wide with wonder.  Our attorney said to me, "just because they don't have good dental care or they are not educated, doesn't mean they don't love their kids."  He too knew a CMB.  I have never forgotten that, Franklin either.

I walked to my car under the Carolina blue sky and felt good inside. I felt more understanding. Maybe it was age.  Maybe I too was growing up.  Maybe CMB really was growing up.  Perhaps the button too. 

And maybe my legacy is that I saved one person from their own life. 

That would be okay with me.

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: "You don't look like the mother...."

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: "You don't look like the mother....": Visitation at summer camp is NOT like what you see on television.  Remember, our summer camp is a small county jail. Visitation is one hou...

"You don't look like the mother...."

Visitation at summer camp is NOT like what you see on television.  Remember, our summer camp is a small county jail.

Visitation is one hour long, split into two thirty minute sessions.  Everybody goes up at the same time for the first session.  You sit on a metal stool, Plexiglas separates you from your visititee and the stools are set up in a U.  You have to put your mouth up to (but not touching) the glass  so you can hear.  I think of the germs on the speakers and I want to throw up. The acoustics are horrible.  And typically, all the stools are taken.  It is so very loud.  I would rather have a pap smear, mammogram and tooth drilled, all at the same time, instead of going to summer camp.


When you become a regular at visitation, you master the system.  You show up late, around 2:20.  Translation, second shift.  You avoid the folks lined up outside the door, smoking like it is their job and the commotion getting in the elevator.  Seriously, it is two floors and would take an extra three minutes max but these people cram into this elevator like they are giving away hundred dollar bills to the first ones up. 

And what happens on visitation day is that you start to recognize people. I mean after all, this is Parent's Day at the County Jail.  Usually, there are mostly moms and grandma's and occasionally, some dads.  And girlfriends. 

And, after you have been at it long enough, you get to know these people.  After all, they are your child's roommates.

Lately, there have been four of us. 

First, there is Crystal Meth Bev.  She weighs about 60 pounds, is wrinkled up like Joe the Camel, is always stoned on something, smokes like a horse and reeeeeeeeks of stale beer and cigarette smoke.  She is tattooed like Kat Von Dee and she rambles on with double negatives, ain'ts and drops the F-bomb and the motherf------word like it is hello.  She is what you stereo type when you think of the movie Deliverance.

Mallory.  A teacher's aid who wears more jewelery than Zsa Zsa and Eva Gabor combined.  She gets all dressed up to see this person that she sees.  I don't know if it is a lover, a son, a nephew but she has perfect attendance and she is so into my business.  She has asked me a million questions and remembers all the answers.  She even mentioned to me last week that my favorite holiday was approaching.  That was right after she asked me if I was on Facebook.  I lied.  Mallory was a cheerleader in high school.  She volunteered this info.  She loved high school.  She said it was the best five years of her life.  I said nothing.  But she is perky and kind and amuses me to no end.  Her and her cleavage.

And then there is the nameless Hispanic lady.  Her eyes are black as coal and big as saucers.  She has the most lovely skin.  And she is immaculate.  She says very little and when she does she is timid and her english is broken and she tilts her head down and looks up.  She is petite, curvy and timid.

Last week, we sat there awhile.  Crystal Meth Bev (CMB) was on a roll.  She got fired from her job (she didn't show up because she "fell into something") and didn't know how she was going to find a new job.  She ain't gotta car.

She looks over at me and asks me what I do for a living.  Okay, I told the truth.  What the hell was I thinking? Immediately CMB and Mallory were all over me.  I swear, just because I said I work for two television stations, I think they thought I dine with Diane Sawyer after she gets done doing the news.  Even the guard started asking me questions. 

And then, came the biggie, "what is your kid in here for?" 

My response, "poor decisions while intoxicated,stoned and or high on prescription drugs, or all of the above."

And I asked, "what about your son?"

Drugs, drugs, and drugs.  All of us were mother's of sons with substance abuse problems. 

And CMB says, Yep, six motherf------ time he's been arrested for drugs.  I told him you aint' gonna get better if you don't quit hanging with f--------addicts.  Look at me, I ain't never gonna keep a job if I don't quit drinking."

And then the elevator opened, the folks spewed out like sausage in a casing.

Our turn.  And my new the BFF's and I  got int the elevator.  I noticed that all three had Kleenex in their hands.  We went around the corner, opened the door and as usual, the stench hits you.  "Dirty ass" as my mom used to say.  Oh, it is awful.

The fellows come out and you nod at the person you have come to visit and you pick a stool.  And the visit begins.

Typically, the second shift seems longer.  Which can be a good thing or a bad thing.  Now that the 'button" is sober, it is a good thing. 

The Hispanic lady and her son were speaking so softly and privately in Spanish.  Mallory, the former cheerleader was going about the trees blooming, etc and CMB and her son were dropping F bombs while they both laughed that smokers laugh that turns into a cough.

I sat there with my son going over numerous things.

And then the guard came out, the boys get up, and we leave.   Immediately, you hear the clanging and the banging and off the boys go to the life that I will never be able to comprehend. I am ALWAYS the first one out the door so I hit the elevator button.  The three ladies come out and they are all crying.  We get in the elevator and CMB asks me, "did you have a good visit?" 

"Yes".  "And you?"

"Yep, he's straight so it was good." 

I looked at her and asked, "How long have you been going through this?"

CMB delivered without hesitation, FOUR F------- years."

I almost threw up in my mouth.  I was either half way done or done, not knowing the answer.

And the elevator door opened.  And instead of dispersing, we contined to walk with one another.

And the little Hispanic woman looks up at me and says, "You never cry, why?"

And, in CMB fashion, I answered, "I have a heart at peace.  I know in my heart that I have loved this son of mine unconditionally, I did everything I could to prevent his addiction, and when it was obvious, I did all that I could do to help him.  I have been a good mother, I am a good mother and I will always be a good mother.  I can only guide, I cannot do."

Mallory asks, "how long did it take you to get to this place?"

I wanted to really answer in CMB and say, "two f-----years" but I didn't.  I just replied, "I don't kow."

And then she said it, CMB, she said to me, "You don't look like a mother of a drug addict."  I don't look like the mother of a drug addict.  She didn't think I looked like the mother a drug addict.

To which I responded, "what does a mother of a drug addict look like?  She looks like all of us."

And she said it, "Hell yeah"

And there we stood.  Four mothers, four drastically different lives but two very common bonds.  Mothers of sons.  Mothers of son's with substance abuse problerms. And despite CMB and her stench, I had a fondness for her.  For all of them.  And truly, these were the woman who could clearly understand what I and how I was feeling.  Everyday.

We finally dispersed.  The Hispanic lady asked me if I could help her find an attorney.  I did.

Today, the "button" called.  He thanked me for "helping out one his cellmates."

"What?"

"You helped out this kid who doesn't speak English?"

It hit me.  I didn't correct him.  I don't even know if this kid is is a serial killer.I didn't help him.    I helped his mom.  His mom.  One of my new "friends."  One of the woman who loved her child like she didn't know was possible.  The mom who after all she loved, his love for getting high was more powerful.   And despite all the motherf------- crap, continues to love.

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Messages

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Messages: In addition to my two lady friends that have just started their fight with cancer, my dear friend, "JOY" has been fighting cancer...

Messages

In addition to my two lady friends that have just started their fight with cancer, my dear friend, "JOY" has been fighting cancer for two years.  And stage four Lyme's disease with cancer.  My friend "JOY" is the most sincere and genuine person, EVER.  I love her.  She is the kindest person, with tons of outrageous quirks that make her so special. 

"JOY" has been so sick over the past two years that she has been in solitary confinement.  No guests, no visitors, no extra germs.  No social engagements, no shopping.  Nothing.  Just hospitals, treatments and doctors.  That is it.  She cannot visit and she cannot accept visitors.

It has broken my heart. I would love to see her and sit on her deck and chat.  Not happening.  Doctor's orders.


Today, on the way to a summer camp visit, I decided to call "JOY".  She didn't pick up so I took advantage of the voicemail until it ran out.  I just chatted non-stop until there wasn't any tape left.  Imagine that?

Tonight, after I left work, I noticed I had a missed call,  It was "JOY".  Initially, my first response was "Damn!"

I listened to my voice mail at a red light with the windows open.

"JOY" called to tell me that this was the last phone call she was making for the next three weeks. She was going to be unavailable by phone.  She wanted me to know that she was going to miss my birthday and Easter and sending me my cards but she wanted to let me know that she was going to call me earlier but she was too busy preparing.   She had me.
 I had a lump in my throat and then she said with glee,
 She got cleared, after two years, by the doctors to leave the house and she was going to NEW ZEALAND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh hell yeah!  I was screaming out the window like a crazy lady!!!!! Hooray.  I was so happy for her and her lovely husband that I just couldn't keep it in.  The people at the light just kept light kept looking over at me.

What a "JOYous" message.

I am sure that she was flying to the land down under on angel wings. 

 I so enjoyed my commute home knowing that "Joy" was in a happy place. 

I was happy that happy thoughts were in my heart.  I had been preoccupied all day by my friend.  I hadn't heard anything about her first day  of "fighting cancer" and I knew I couldn't bother her.

And then, my email lit up on my phone.  A new message.

It was from her.My friend who just spent two days finding out what her new life was going to be like.  When I saw her name, I was timid.  What was it going to say?  I never imagined that the email would read like this...
Yesterday, when she was at the doctor's office...a young man was taking her blood pressure and struck up a conversation with her.  She is sure that she was hand picked by God  to help others.  She is on a mission.  After he was finished taking her blood pressure, etc. and she was left alone in the room, a message was slid under the door.

 This message said, "Look up this song when you get home.  God Bless."

They say that angels come in all shapes and sizes.  I am so glad this angel slid that note to my friend before he flew my other friend to New Zealand.  Sitting in there, in that room, all alone, somebody gave her the message of Hope.

The song, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1CSVqHcdhXQ.

I read the email three times, each time with greater happiness and hope.  And I listened to the song. 
And as troubled as my heart as been for each one of these three ladies, this email message just made my heart know that it was all going to be okay.

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Fight like a Girl!

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Fight like a Girl!:                                                                                                                                             ...

Fight like a Girl!

                                                                                                                                                                                              During the past two years, one of the most significant things I have learned is the simple strength of a mom.  Truly, it is astounding.

I have three friends who have lost children.  And they don't just maintain, they conquer.  They have other children, careers, businesses and they are strong.  Awesome women.  Amazingly strong.  Their strength, their faith and their ability to plow ahead has been a really big inspiration to me.

In the past seven hours, I have spoken to two women who have just started a journey they never thought they would be on.  They both have cancer.  And, ironically, they are friends.  And, they share a passion and now they will share recovery.

This afternoon, I called the one lady to check on her.  She just had her first chemo treatment.  What did she have to say?, "I cannot believe how lousy I feel, I cannot miss my kids games and stuff and I don't want to waste food when I cannot taste it."  OMG lady, you just had a chemo treatment on Friday, cut yourself some slack.  And, typical female, she was worrying about making her kids feel normal, while she felt lousy and of course it always comes back to food.  Penny pinching mother was worried about wasting food.  And, she was worried about work and others having to cover for her.  She was chatty and none of it was about her.

Then this evening, Walker told me that the other woman has cancer. My Walker ADORES her.  And when I called her, not knowing what to say or how to say it,  the only thing she was worried about was her kids and her parents.  She wasn't worried about herself, she was worried about others.  And she was worried about my boys, both of them. 

She is about to go have her life and her health derailed and she is worried about everybody else. 

And she said those infamous words, "I didn't think it would be like this."  Boy, I could relate, a little.  he curve ball from heaven.

After I spoke to her, I just sat back in my car, closed my eyes and said a prayer for both ladies.  While I prayed for their health and their families, I prayed for continued strength.  And I prayed that they both stay assured and not alarmed and filled with their zesty spirits.

My mother told me that before a woman gets married, she needs to spend days with the prospective groom while he is sick.  I think all females will say that is pretty good advice my mom has there.

My husband has  said to both boys, "you sound like a girl, you fight like a girl".  I think all men need some girl in them.  Especially the fight and spirit of the woman and girls I know. 

I am proud to say I know these women.  And I am very proud of my lady friends.  The single moms, the mother's of autistic and deaf kids, the women who take care of their parents and children, the women who get up at 4:30am, run five miles, work full time and still get a hot meal on the table, the women who have dropped change in the coinstar machine to make sure their kids had the perfect Christmas present,  the women who do for others before themselves,  for the moms who seize the day and create a spirit in their families and the other women who have bravely fought this battle and won.  

  And I am so happy that we have the "fight of a girl" in all of us, everyday.

It is never the mess you make, it is how you clean it up.  I totally believe in this.  Totally.

When Mr. Phelps had his pickle years ago after his famous Olympics, I was astounded.  He was caught on film, smoking something in a tube.  At a party.  Kellogg's dropped Mr. Phelps and he lost major dollars in endorsements.  Not that he needed the money.  I always felt that Kellogg's lost a big opportunity there. 

Make better choices all day long, start with a better Breakfast.  Kellogg's.  Better choices all day.  Mr. Phelps could have turned his questionable choices around and been a spokesperson for better choices.

Mr. Armstrong is another example.  Instead of sitting on a couch like a pompous ass, he could have gone to the authorities, admitted guilt and said, "Here is how I am going to make it right, I am going to college universities and speaking to young people about illegal drugs, especially steroids and to middle schools about bullying." 

This past weekend, my kids spent the ENTIRE weekend with another group of kids.  They played MANHUNT all night on Friday and then passed out.  Out.

Then, Saturday, they played Fort, MANHUNT, built spears, played cops and robbers and were outside the ENTIRE weekend.  Windburned and exhausted.  Like the olden days.  It was awesome.  I didn't always see them, but they would run in the house, use the bathroom, grab some food and yell, "see ya mom, we are having fun." 

Sunday night, when I tucked Adeline in she said, "this was the best weekend of my life."  AWESOME.

And then the email came out.

The email to all the home owners in the "hood".  Apparently, as the email sited, there were kids, 14-11 playing with spears who vandalized the neighborhood club house.  Boys and Girls the email said.

Now, I am NOT the mother who says "not my kids."  I am ALWAYS the mother who says, "My kid.'

I called the other kid's mom.  Now known as OKM.  She is also the kind of mom who says, "Yep, my kid."

She says, "Oh, I don't think so.  I will ask my kids when they get home."

The next call I hear from her, her blood pressure is about 300 over 300 and she is fired up.

It was her kid.  And another one of her kids watched and did nothing.

Hell hath nor furry like a mother scorned.

She calls her Military husband out of a meeting, he flies home and the cleanup begins.  Her kids turn in phones, x-boxes, food, beds, shoes, etc.  (just kidding about some of that).

She makes them get dressed and go the homeowner president, apologize, with a check to pay for the damages, and to offer their services for the ENTIRE year (free labor) and to tell them that they were going directly to the ball field to clean it up.  The only thing missing were black and white striped outfits with numbers on the back.

Then, I had to explain to my kids why those kids were in trouble.  I explain one did it and the other stood and watched.  Then I discover, my kids knew about ANOTHER incident the same day where they stood and watched.

Now, we have innocent bystanders not being so innocent.  And so the lesson learning begins.

Except for one of the culprits.  His parents did nothing.

And he is a repeat offender, about 15 times over, that we know about.  Always the kid doing wrong things, and NOTHING ever happens.  And that is the parent's fault.

In the recap phone call with the OKM, despite our children's misgivings, we had to give them kudos for finding drugs and paraphernalia and going to the state trooper in the hood to handle it.  That was awesome.

At least when the poked holes with the spears, they made smiley faces.

I thought about this situation as I drifted off to sleep.  I thought about it first thing this morning.  When you are the mother of a child who has tons of pending charges, smiley faces in some drywall does not seem so significant but you still have to clean it up.  Regardless. 

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: A mom, a daughter and a funeral

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: A mom, a daughter and a funeral: Last week, a mother was driving her car with her two kids in the rain and crossed over the center lane.  The car in the other lane,hit the ...

A mom, a daughter and a funeral

Last week, a mother was driving her car with her two kids in the rain and crossed over the center lane.  The car in the other lane,hit the mom's car.  The little girl in the backseat was killed.  She was six.  The little boy, two, is still in the hospital.  The little girl will not be buried until her brother is well enough to attend the funeral.

The mother, a 25 year old woman will not be attending the funeral.  She is residing in summer camp.

How awful.  How horrible.  How sad.  A six year old little girl killed by her own mother, a result of a DWI.

How sad that the little guy loses his sister and his mom. 

And how sad that this is NOT the mom's only DWI.  Her first was with the little guy.  He survived.  The mom just side swiped the guard rail that night.

And how sad is it that the parents of the mother knew she had a substance abuse problem. 

I am not passing any judgement.  Not today.  Two years ago, my Yankee mind and mouth would have gone crazy discussing this sad story.  Today, I view it differently.  Maybe it is age, maybe it is the past two years but I am so sad about this situation.  I am so sad that a little girl died.  I am so sad that a little guy lost his sister.  And I am so sad that a mom had people around her that knew she had a problem and couldn't get her to understand she had a problem.  Until now.  Until a little girl died. 

If that little girl had not died, I wonder what would have happened?  I wonder what would have been next?  And I keep thinking about that mother.  Strangely and sadly, I keep thinking about her.  Her addiction has cost her the ultimate sacrifice.

And I pray there were not people with her, who knew she had been drinking and let her get in that car. 

And I pray for the the mother's parents.  They knew their daughter had a drug and alcohol problem. They knew.  And now they don't have a grand daughter, their grandson is in the hospital and their daughter will more than likely serve time. A lot of time.  I heard that the little guy will go into foster care.  My heart breaks for them.  

I just feel that while they never saw this coming, they  knew in their hearts, their daughter was headed for heartache.

And, it wasn't just a DWI, there were prescription drugs.  

Today, I went to see the "button."

I had not been there in weeks.  Have I mentioned that "no matter how many times you go, you are not prepared."  

My son and I had a great visit.  And he asked me, "Mom, did you hear about that mother who killed her little girl with a DWI?"  

And then he said it, "and it wasn't her first one, her first one was with her son and how crazy that THAT didn't make her get it."

Hollywood couldn't have scripted it better.  

And then I said it, "as hard as it is to come here and see you, in this place, in orange, at least I see you and that I am not putting flowers on your grave.  Here is what I know, that would have been you or one of your friends.  And it would have been so crazy.  And that son, is the story of addiction.  You have put yourself in here how many times?  You knew what it was like here, but, you came back.  You never thought it would end up that way, but it did, several times."

"Button, that mother, even after her first DWI with her son, didn't believe that anything else would happen to her.  Even that first DWI with her son was not scary enough to make her stop.  Her drugs was all she really cared about.  Not the consequences, the drugs."


For some reason, I was shocked that he new about it.  I don't know if it was water cooler talk at summer camp or if maybe he was upset about it too.  

We had a great visit.  And we have a plan.  And the plan doesn't include drugs, alcohol or funerals.  And, I am good with that.