it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: The way you are a remembered, A Tribute

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: The way you are  remembered, A Tribute: We have seen the footage of Diana getting out of a limo, glamorous and striking.  Young.  Taken before "her time."  Regardless of ...

The way you are remembered, A Tribute

We have seen the footage of Diana getting out of a limo, glamorous and striking.  Young.  Taken before "her time."  Regardless of the years pass, she remains young and striking.
Fifty years from now, she will always be young.

Years ago, when my oldest son was just a little guy and we were new to the area, he was on a baseball team.  His coach, Coach David, had a cute wife and three boys.  Two were the same age as my oldest son, and a little guy.  Drew.

He was a doll.  He was my second reason for loving the baseball season.  He would sit in his diaper and laugh.  Drew would throw his head back and laugh.  And play and get into everything he could.  He was the perfect example of the All American little boy.  I adored him.  His mother would let me hold him, after all, he was the third child, and she would take a breather.  I can remember him sitting there and pointing and clapping.  Oh, he was a doll.

My son grew up and so did Drew. I always thought that if they ever remade E.T., Drew would be the perfect Elliot.

And before long, the little blondie in diapers was wearing a T-Ball baseball outfit.  He was as cute in the uniform as he was in his diaper.  When fellows are young like that, you cannot always tell what child is what child, but; you would always know it was Drew.  Underneath that cap was that big smile.

And he continued to grow.

Drew was one of the "those" people. One of those people, who despite his age, stole your heart.  He had a killer smile and flashed it often.  He had charisma and spunk.

As he grew and matured, he was one of the kids, who in my heart, had a special place.  It was fun to see him grow and watch that smile go from no teeth, to baby teeth, then no teeth, then big boy teeth.  He had the "it" factor.

Just this year, Walker came home with an ECU fleece.   When I asked him where it came from, he said, "Drew outgrew it and gave it to me."  "Drew?"

"Yeah, Drew H.  He knows I like ECU."

This boy came to the elementary school where his mother taught on a regular basis and didn't just visit, he befriended younger kids.  And they loved him.

Walker adored him. 

He died yesterday. 

But always, when I see his mom or dad or think of him, I will think of him as that happy, happy baby with big eyes and blonde hair throwing his head back laughing.


And while I will never see him as a grown man, I am blessed to remember him as a handsome teen with a heart as big as his smile. 

He will remembered by many, the same.  Always young, always happy and always full of life.

The Power of Pajama Parties

When you are young, there is nothing like a pajama party.

I can remember like yesterday being in Lisa G.'s family room, playing the Carly Simon album and talking about periods.  How had been blessed with the cursed, who had not, when was it coming and who was getting breasts.  Yesterday. 

 "You probably think this song is about you."

The night would also include who liked who, who denied liking who and if they liked you would you like them?

Homemade popcorn made in the pot on the stove with real melted butter. 

And it always ended with the dreaded saiyans where we brought back a dead person channeled through another and lifted them with two fingers above our heads. 

Loved pajama parties. 

Loved authentic pajama parties before texting, duck lips on facebook posts and face time.

What happened in that family room stayed in that family room at least until Monday at recess.

Last night I went to a grown up pajama party.  Only we didn't stay the night.  We know there is nothing like sleeping in your own bed.

We stood in the kitchen in our jammies.  No popcorn.  Wine.  Desserts, some with little sugar and flour, some with lots of butter.  Wine.  Wine.

No background music.  We wouldn't have heard it anyway.

And the conversation?  The periods we longed for, we now long to leave us, the boobs we wished for now need tacked up, Paula Deen, dogs, C-section scars, how we met our husbands, flour and sugar, recipes on Pinetrest, manicures and pedicures, the lousy pedicure, the incestuous lives of manicurists, menopausal hair, menopausal attitudes, turning 50 and not caring, cheaters (the glasses, not people) poor customer service, good customer service, Matt Lauer, commericals, Boy Scouts, buying cars, Vermont, Costa Rica, and kids.  This was the first thirty minutes I think.

My husband does not understand the need for woman to unite together.  I guess most men do not.  I don't care.  We don't talk about them.  Except for who we are going to marry when they are no longer around.  George  Clooney has several thousands of woman to chose from when he is 70 and they are all in their 80's.

It is the need to feel young, validated and appreciated.

My mom is still in a Card Club.  She joined that club when I was in the first grade.  This club is what taught me about the mother network and always amused me.  My mom so looked forward to her once a month, always on a Thursday, at our house once a year, club.  Her entire month revolved around Card Club.  "No, cannot do it, I have card club."  If she would have been chosen to go up in space, and it was the first Thursday of the month, "nope, going to card club."

Yesterday, I was giddy with excitement.  GIrls night.  Woot Woot.

I have also belonged to a Card Club.  Mine is called DOM.  Dinner of the Month Club.  Four women who eat out once a month, for over 24 years.  Same girls, although Miss Jen replaced me when I moved.  My four "go to girls in life."  I KNOW they will ALWAYS be there for me.  Whenever.

Giddy, one night of the month.

I was especially giddy for last night. Yesterday, on the way home from work, I talked to my BFF for about 45 minutes.  It was such as sad, awakening conversation.  We are getting old.  We both got lines and wrinkles on our faces, veins on legs, heart throb Micheal J. Fox is on the cover of our AARP magazines, our hair is different, we cannot see or go without cheaters, the attention span is getting derailed and we cannot go 90 to nothing like we used to.  We talked about Debbie Boone Lighting up our lives with the all over body lift.  We want to be young again go jiffing on Friday afternoon in college.

Oh to be young again and laying on a floor in a sleeping bag.

It is never the food or the cards, it is the girls and ok, the wine too.  It is the excitement of knowing that you can lift your shirt up, pull down your pants and show your scar to people who have never known you had one and not care or worry that you will be judged.  Although, I have got to tell you, I saw the biggest C-section scar last night ever!

It is safety in knowing that if you put something out there that might harm another mother's family, she is pushing that way above the radar line.

It is comfort in knowing that you can be you and if your daughter is driving you nuts, chances are another in the room has been there, and if you had a feeling in your gut about something, chances are another one has too.

It is nice to know that after baby puke and messy diapers and days were showers were luxuries, you can go hang out, top of the day of motherhood with wine and appreciation for what we all do.

I hope that all girls and ladies have a chance to celebrate being a chick with other chicks.
And if you don't call me, you can come to ours.  Just wear your jammies, bring an open mind and don't forget the wine.

"I am forever changed." The Prince.

This post might stir some controversy.  Whatever.

Yesterday, I spoke to my sister-in-law, the newest member of the club.  It was the first conversation after the viewing and funeral.  It was the first "real" conversation of her new life.

And she said this, "I am forever changed."

I cannot even imagine. 

"I cannot process that I am no longer the mother of a son, my son."

Oh, I can understand.

Let me preface with this statement, I ADORE MY DAUGHTER.  LOVE HER!

But, there is something about a mom and her boys.

It is just my brother, aka The Prince and me.  One girl and one boy.  I am the oldest.  The Prince is next in line.

My mom, and she is a great mom, loves her son.  It is pathetic.  Kids used to tease my brother, her because every sentence started with "Well MY MOM...."

When we were older, my brother and I worked together at a country club.  One particular weekend, we had the wedding of the century at the club.

Saturday, we worked 14 hours and the next day 10.  In typical fashion, my girlfriend took me home and Todd drove himself.  We got there first, when in through the basement, undressed, through the uniform in the wash and up the stairs I walked, with Cheryl behind me.  (no, I wasn't naked).

As we walked upstairs and I yelled, "I am home", my mom  responded "take your uniform off".  "Throw it in the washer."

I had already done this.

"I am starving", I said.

"Well, you will have to make yourself something."  (no kidding)

And so my friend Cheryl and I proceeded to make tuna sandwiches.

The Prince arrives.

My mom jumps out of the chair, opens up the door to the basement and asks, "how was work?  Here, let me get your uniform so I can get it in the wash for you."

"Are you hungry?"

"uh, yes, starving", the Prince replied.

"What would you like?"

Get ready for this response and I am being 100% factual.

"Chicken cordon bleu."

Are you kidding me?  I am making tuna and the Prince gets French Chicken?

Blatant favoritism.  Blatant.

My brother would torture me for hours.  I would beg my mom to make him stop.  Her response was, in a calm, genteel voice, "Todd, please do not torture your sister."

That's it.  I would have been clobbered.

One day in church, I taught my brother to go through the hymnal and add "under the covers" to the end of every hymn.

Of course he was bored and did and was sitting there laughing in the pew.  I was steadfast, straight ahead and my mom grabs me with that CLAW grip and gives me a look that would have startled Hitler because he was laughing.  After church, in the church parking lot, she gives my Holy Hell because I made him laugh.  And him, NOTHING.

Not one repercussion.

The morning of his wedding, as he sat in his beanbag eating pop tarts and watching cartoons, she yelled at me because she didn't like the way I made his bed.  Oh my God, I went  off....are you kidding?  If you are old enough to get married, you can turn off Speed Racer and make your bed.

Every Christmas she carts over state borders cookies for the Prince.  I get a duster from a flea market.

Every fellow who gets on television always says, right into the camera, "HI MOM!"

A few weeks ago, my mom came to visit.

I was saying that my brother was a mamma's boy, I married a mamma's boy, and I had two sons that are mamma's boys. 

And, after all those years of hearing how perfect and thoughtful and what a hard worker the Prince is, and how he appreciates everything his mamma does, after having two boys, I understood my mother's blatant affections toward the Prince Todd.

And we laughed.  After all, I was a daddy's girl, my mom was a daddy's girl and I gave birth to a daddy's girl. 

Yesterday, I felt so for my sister-in-law.  And my other sister-in-law.  And any mother who has lost a Prince. 

Because, I am sure, they made them feel like a Queen.

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Father's Day..Memories and all the good stuff

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Father's Day..Memories and all the good stuff: Father's Day.  Wow, how its meaning has changed for me. My mom told me when I turned 50, "Welcome to the 10 worst years of your l...

Father's Day..Memories and all the good stuff

Father's Day.  Wow, how its meaning has changed for me.

My mom told me when I turned 50, "Welcome to the 10 worst years of your life."

"How so Mom?"

"Well, your friends parents will die, your friends will die, your friends will get sick, your friends will divorce, kids will screw and when you laugh, you will pee your pants."

"Well, I have been peeing my pants for years so bring it on."

I had no idea.

My sperm donor dad left when my brother and I were in our 20's.  After all the hard stuff, he bolted.  For a chick the same age as my younger brother.  After 26 years of marriage, he asked my mom for a divorce on their anniversary.  Took me years.  Years to get over the hurt and anger.  And no, I haven't heard from him in about 16 years.

And in the last few weeks, since mother's day, five of my girl friends have buried their dads, after sitting at their bedsides.  Roll reversal.  The worst kind of roll reversal.  They became the caretakers.

And typically after all the care taking comes the recovery and the grief.  And perhaps anger.

This past Monday, my sweet sister-in-law and her ex-husband learned that their 20 year-old-son had been killed.  They will hold his service tomorrow.  Today is W.'s first Father's Day without his son.

And despite all the  sadness, there are happy memories.

It was the sperm donor dad who taught me to "rough house", love gardening, appreciate fall, nut gathering, elderberry picking, the outdoors and sports.  I knew what a balk in baseball was in first grade and I can spy a deer from 1000 yards.  My dad also taught me that a way to a man's heart is through a freshly baked sweet good.

And I am fortunate enough that I remember the sperm donor dad as a young man.

I am blessed enough that I have a "real" dad.  The dad that was there for the marriages, children, moves, adult stuff.  The real stuff.

My only hope for today is that people remember the "good stuff" about their dads. 

I once heard a kid complaining that his dad was "never at his games."  Okay, the dad only missed the Saturday games.  He owned a business and was opened on Saturdays.  It was those Saturdays that paid for the $200 bats and baseball camp but kids never get that situation.

I want my friends to remember the good times.  The "rough housing, the father/daughter dances, the Friday nights when he came home with a bag of Lay's potato chips and ice cold Cokes in the bottle and the time he helped you ride a bike."

When I think of my grandfather, I don't think of him sick in a hospital bed, I think of him picking me up on Friday's from kindergarten and stopping at the Tastee Freeze in Delmont.  He always got a hot fudge sundae and I got a chocolate cone dipped in chocolate. 

I was allergic to milk and chocolate at the time and he always told me, "if you tell your mother, we are both in trouble."  To this day, that is the only thing I order at a Tastee Freeze.

I don't want my friend to remember their dads sick in bed.  I want them to remember them large as life.  Muscular and handsome.  Firm and kind.  Funny and serious. Proud and gentle.

I want everyone to have happy memories of their dad.  I want my kids to have happy memories of their dad as well.

I want my ex-brother-in-law to remember J. with endless energy, quick wit, devilish smile and a zest for life, the good things.

Just happiness.  Happy memories, happy times. 

Happy Father's day.

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: The newest member to the Club

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: The newest member to the Club: My husband is one of nine siblings.  He has either been blessed or cursed with four brothers or four sisters.  I have been blessed with fabu...

The newest member to the Club

My husband is one of nine siblings.  He has either been blessed or cursed with four brothers or four sisters.  I have been blessed with fabulous sister-in-laws.

Yesterday morning, one of his sisters called his cell phone.  He was still in bed.  I answered.
She was rushed and not her usual southern, genteel self.

She said, "I will just tell why I called.  J. died."

J. is the devilishly handsome 20 year old son of my other sister-in-law.  He was killed instantly riding his motorcycle.

His mother has been my rock.  She has comforted my in times when I didn't think I could be.  And, because my nephew struggled, Franklin and I were able to learn from her.  She and her ex-husband let love prevail and did what they could on a daily basis to help J. with his struggles.  It wasn't just about drugs, it was about maturing and finding himself and finding his happiness. 

And I always felt for my sister-in-law at night.  She was by herself and I would sit on my porch and we would talk about our son's, our feelings, our lives, their lives, just talk.  We were sisters in spirit.  Our son's brought us together. 

Her husband remarried.  In a bizarre twist, his step-son died in a car accident three years ago.  The death of this child broke J's spirit for awhile.  He had such a hard time losing his step brother and friend.

And then yesterday.

J. had more zest for life in him than anybody I ever knew.  His energy in one day is more than most had in a month.  And his spirit was like a stunt man, no fear.

Last night the "button" was chatting on Facebook.

He reached out to a genuine friend he met in the wilderness, Anasazi.  She lives in Florida and I know that the "button" adores her.

She tells him that she is down that she lost her friend yesterday.  He tells her that he lost a cousin.  She explains that her friend was young.  He said, yes, my cousin as well.  She reveals the name of her friend, J.  It was the "button's" cousin. 

This loss, her loss and his loss all meshed together in his heart, just six weeks after the death of another young cousin. 

We really do live two lives.  One that we learn from and one that we learn to live with afterward.

I don't know, because again, I have been afraid that I WOULD be making that calls and not receiving them, I think my son saw and felt something last night that most 20 year olds don't feel.  I hope so.  I pray so. 

Perhaps J's insatiable spirit and untimely death, along with the passing of his cousin will keep my button alive and that will be their bond.

And my sister-in-law, my sensible, witty rock, you are now a member of the Club that nobody wants to join.  It is free to join but your heart pays the price forever.

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Oreos and Doritoos, phone numbers and home.

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Oreos and Doritoos, phone numbers and home.: Wednesday, as I stood at the last Honor Roll Assembly of the year, with my phone on vibrate, the phone started to sound like a Wii Game.  I ...

Oreos and Doritoos, phone numbers and home.

Wednesday, as I stood at the last Honor Roll Assembly of the year, with my phone on vibrate, the phone started to sound like a Wii Game.  I looked down and there were five missed call from Franklin and six text messages.

"Call Me ASAP."

I text back, "cannot, at school, honor roll."

"Call me.  ASAP.  ASAP. ASAP."

Ok, this sounds important.

I used my phone illegally in the school at the honor roll assembly.  What a rebel.

He picks up and I hear, "we have to be in the court room in an hour, today is the day."

What?

I am a planner.  I hadn't changed sheets, gone to the store, got his clothes out, nothing.

And then my inner voice took over and said, "get a flipping grip.  Those dirty sheets are better than his sheets.  Relax.  Stay calm."

I did.  And I have never experienced a day quite like this and I doubt I ever will.  Ever.  None of us.

We both arrived at the court house about the same time. 

This was like delivering your first child.  I had seen it on TV but really didn't know what to expect.

We walked into the court room which is way different than the traffic court room.  Way different.


And I felt like that scene in Animal House when they go to the club.  We did not belong there.

Again, "if you take your troubles to the market...."

Apparently, 10th grade is the year that people quit school and get into trouble, lots and lots of trouble.  Even the 34 year old cocaine addict was there with her mom.  And that southern judge looked down at the defendant and said, "aren't you a little old to be dragging your mother around to help you clean up you life?"

Next was the 18 year old who never graduated and owed six THOUSAND dollars in restitution.  The judge made getting his GED part of his probation.  That was after he gave him a lecture like even I have never given.

Finally, the "button" appears.   Let's just say that when the judge asked him if he had anything to say, I panicked.  The others said, "uhhhh, no."

Thankfully, the button did.  He was kind, gracious and authentic.  And well spoken.

The judge asked him if his parents were in the court room.  Of course he said yes. 

Then the judge says, "Come up here."

OMG.  I was as calm as I could be and I had NO idea what to expect next.

"Identify yourselves and tell me about your son."  This scene is Franklin's worse nightmare.  Speaking in front of people, and a Superior Court Judge no less.

So, I started.  I can honestly say that I only remember one thing that I said," My son is very handy around the house, and helps me a lot.  He is much handier than his father and I have several things that need fixed."  That is it, that is all I remember and really, what a stupid thing to say.  But, I did.

And as Franklin started to speak, I noticed a woman with huge tears streaming down her face.  "Really, you have sat here a million times in this court room  and you are crying?"

And then the judge gave our son the biggest gift of his life.  Ever. 

The "button" was sent down stairs and we left and waited for his release.

Without getting into the specifics of the case, the "button" can vote and he was awarded handsomely for 10 months in summer camp.

I hugged my husband outside the doors of that court room.  This part was over.  For all of us.  And we did it together.  It made us stronger.  There were so many blessing that came out of that court room and out of the attached summer camp building.

While we waited, I made a trip to the kind people who greeted me each visitation day and thanked them.  While I was there, a lady that comes in AFTER visitation says to me, "do you have another son?"

"Yes, and he was here yesterday.
"I knew it, well, I thought I knew it. We were so uncomfortable, we didn't know what to do with his peers and we were worried for him and we just were a wreck.  We said hello to him because we were he was the "button's" brother but we didn't know what to do."  

"It was fine, it was all fine."

"I know, he came back down and looked at us and said, "he was sleeping."  It broke my heart."

  
  And then I left.  I wanted out of there.  For good.  I wanted to go to the store and buy kiwi, milk, Oreos and  Dorritos for my son.  I wanted a family dinner.  On a Wednesday.

And so I did.    As I walked out of the store, my husband called me.  After all the calmness of the day, his news sent me into a sobbing, hysterical moment.

Right there, in broad daylight, at the Lowe's Foods parking lot, I had my meltdown.  This was highlight film for the security crew when they watched me on the security film.

My husband called to tell me that a bailiff searched him out and handed him a phone number.  It was the phone number of the lady in the court room who was crying while we spoke. The bailiff relayed that she too has had a "button" and she was so moved by us because she has never heard those kind of words and love and HOPE and she wanted to talk to us.  She said she "needed to fall in love with her son again."  She wanted to know what the seeds of greatness were.

After all of this, and all of the struggles, and the questions, and the feeling like we were never getting a break, and never getting out of our own way, and they feeling that we never, ever, ever should have started a blog, or let our story out, or that the results were going to be bad, all of it, I LOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSST it.  I just cried my heart out.  That was it, it really is that simple, you have to fall in love with your child again and she got it and had the courage to ask for help.."

I called her.  She said it was the words, "seeds of greatness, heart at peace, walking forward and I love my son more than he can ever love his drugs" that sent her into tears.

Thank you Anasazi.  They told us at Anasazi that it takes about six months to let the lessons penetrate hearts.  We were a little behind but they had penetrated nonetheless.

I got my act together and drove home.

Walker burst through that door like a sheriff in a bar room salon from an old western with a big grin on his face.  He looked around and I said, "He is not here."

He slumped his shoulders and went into the kitchen.  He was disappointed.  I know he read my text messages from Frank and was expecting him.

  He opened up the cabinet and saw two things, Oreos and Dorritos.

I heard him say to Addie, "He is coming home.  There are Oreos and Dorritos here."

And about ten minutes later, they heard TWO car doors in the driveway.

Dare Essay Winner Field Trip to Summer Camp

How ironic is it that you win the DARE essay and the reward is a trip to summer camp?  Especially in my house.  The winners should get to sit and school and the others should have to go on the tour.

Well, Tuesday was the day.  Walker sprung out of his bed like a Jack Rabbit.

I thought about both of my boys the entire day.

Obviously, Walker's classmates knew about the situation in our family.  Hearing about it and seeing it are two different things. 

Would they see one another?  I was consumed with this this one thought the entire day.

Well,  Walker gets home and the other thing I get is, "we went to Golden Corral and I had the best mini cheeseburgers and we rode on the Coast Guard Boat and I am joining the Coast Guard."  What?  I waited all day and that is what I get?

Finally, later that night, the real story comes out.  "Coast Guard Station Tour and Boat Ride, Lunch at Golden Corral, I had salad, cheeseburgers, mac and cheese, fish, five desserts.  Summer Camp.  A lady said hi to me. We went up and we watched them in the two way mirror and I could see the button but he was sleeping.  He is in E-----.  Oh, and they arranged for me to see him but some guy got in a fight for wanting to watch Sponge Bob and now all of them got penalized and I couldn't.  But he was just sleeping."

Okay, good. 

I asked him, "did you feel uncomfortable?"

"No mom, I told them to learn from this.  You know mom, we couldn't ride with the sirens on because there were people in front of us and we didn't want them to get startled."

I want to be a kid again.  I want this stage of our lives to end and I wish I could eat five desserts at Golden Corral too.