it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: My New Thanksgiving

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: My New Thanksgiving: I have written about this before, but growing up, we HATED THANKSGIVING.  It was our family's least favorite and most dreaded holiday of...

My New Thanksgiving

I have written about this before, but growing up, we HATED THANKSGIVING.  It was our family's least favorite and most dreaded holiday of the year.

It was the holiday that we spent with my dad's parental units. 

They had a dog, Taffy, who shed like you wouldn't believe and at some point she nursed her puppies and let's just stay those nursing tools were all dried up and shriveled.

Betty, my dad's mother, could not cook, at all.  But, to her credit, her table always looked like the cover of Southern Living.  Except that we all had to cram inside this dining room with the over sized dining room table.  Whenever you moved, the things on the side board would jiggle and make a noise.  I can still hear that noise.  And the lime green Jello salad that had celery and carrots in it would jiggle on the plate as well.  The Jello salad was placed on the wilted, warm lettuce.

And because Betty could not cook, she would say dinner was at 2pm and we NEVER ate before six. 

The pre dinner festivities looked like a scene from the Old Folk's home.  They sat around, played cards and ate Chinese nuts. To this day, I have never been able to find those Chinese nuts in any store.

I always retreated to the back room where Betty would have a brand new jigsaw puzzle for me to build.  I would immerse myself in the jigsaw.  With a Squirt in a glass with a pewter coaster. 

Before the trip to the parental unit's home my dad and later my brother would go hunting.  They would NEVER get home when they were supposed to (like it mattered, we wouldn't eat until six anyway) and then my dad would torment my mom, my mom would be angry, he would rub his beard on her face, and the holiday would begin.  My dad would chew tobacco and open his door on the highway and spit it out, just to send my mom into a bigger rage.  The 20 minute trip was like going across country. 

It was a horrible Holiday.  One year, I can remember the Wonderful World of Disney coming on and we still hadn't eaten.

To this day, my brother still hunts on Thanksgiving and still hates it.

I have come along way.  I cook the dinner.  We eat at home.  I even bought some Thanksgiving decorations over the years and last year, Turkey dishes.  I love them.  They sealed the deal for me.

One of my traditions has always been the day after Thanksgiving to turn my house, inside and out, into Christmas.

This year, I have changed.  I am beginning to feel like I was a Pilgrim in my previous life.  I am filled with Thanks and I am way over the "crap" of Christmas.

I am all about breaking bread with my family, low key day and discussing the blessings that have been bestowed on my family in the past year.

I am not about Rudolph being shoved down my throat before the Macy's day Parade. 

What is the hurry, the rush?  Where is the Thanks?  Why aren't people celebrating blessings?

This year, when it is my turn at the table to say what I am thankful for, I have a list.

I am thankful....

that my friends who have cancer are responding to treatments and are ALL  on the road of recovery.

I have my parents and they are well.  Nutty, but well.

I have my sibling and his family.

My husband still has all of his siblings and their families.

I can read books and voice my opinion in our country.

We have clean drinking water that comes out of a faucet and electricity that comes with the ease of a switch.

My children and healthy and are receiving an education from wonderful educators.

People before believed in something so much, freedom of religion, that set sail on a ship and made their passions part of my freedoms. 

My friend, who will bury her son this week, has a huge support system, one that she introduced me too. 

My oldest son is alive. He may not be at our table but he is alive.  He is struggling but he is alive and can exercise the power of choice surrounded by people who love him.

I have great friends with large hearts and fabulous spirits.

And finally, as crazy as we are, I have my family.

I am not sure that I am turning into Santa's elf this year the day after Christmas.
I think I am just going to savor the moment and reflect on Thanks.

Happy Thanksgiving.

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

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Car Cry: it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Car Cry : Two days ago, when I was taking Walker to school, a radio morning show was asking th...

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: My gut and the entry I never wanted to write

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: My gut and the entry I never wanted to write: Years ago, in a marriage counseling session when I was married to Lucifer, Miss Elizabeth asked me, "how intuitive are you?' I bu...

My gut and the entry I never wanted to write

Years ago, in a marriage counseling session when I was married to Lucifer, Miss Elizabeth asked me, "how intuitive are you?'

I burst out laughing.  There is not a scientific bone in my body and yes, I realize that I might want to rethink this condition.

I live with my "gut".  I had a boss once who always said, "go with your gut at all times, it has been with you the longest."

So, I go with my gut.

Lately, I felt like my gut was the red dot on the weather channel before a hurricane.  Let's call this hurricane " the button."

I couldn't put my finger on it, but I knew something, not sure what, wasn't right.

And I knew this named storm was going to turn into a Hurricane.

It did. 

Now, for the record, there are no arrests, no bail bondsmen needed, no trips to summer camp, yet. 

Without going into all the details, I have "other parent envy."

I was an achiever, all my life, and a rule follower.  I did the right thing, 99% of the time.  There was a tree I chopped down in a drunken stupor at WVU  and a few other isolated incidents but for the most part, I was and still am, a "good girl".

While I wasn't foolish enough to think that my spirited personality wasn't going to be passed down to my  kids, I did raise them to be rule followers, funny, independent thinkers and passionate about life.  I just thought that I would  get those "moments" that most parents get...prom pictures, graduation parties, visits to parent's day, the anticipation of the student coming home totally tired, poor and bags of dirty laundry at the holidays.  I wanted to fill plastic containers with leftovers and buy groceries with fun little snacks and even send off a little pre-lit tree.  I wanted normal. 

I wanted a "almost starting to act like an adult but still can be a kid and a jerk all at the same time" relationship with me oldest.  I wanted to help out when necessary and sit back and watch the rest of the time.  I wanted to see him fail to succeed and succeed without failing. 

I wanted a damn college sticker for the back of my car.  I know the marathon sticker is  not going to happen but I wanted a college sticker. Ok, I will admit it.  I wanted to be proud and encouraged and moving forward and following the normal path that so many others had done before me.  And even if a sticker wasn't involved, I just wanted my child to be happy and moving forward and "getting there." 

I guess I just wanted a facebook status that was like the hundreds of others, proud mamma's bragging on their kids and pictures of them together.

I am pretty sure it is not going to happen.  My gut is just screaming at my brain.  It is not indigestion.  It is intuition.

Again, without going into all the details, while the "button" is still at school, I have no idea what the future holds.  Or what he doing, or how he is doing or if he is doing.

But the one thing I do know, there is a pattern, just like a named storm turning into a hurricane and I think I need to go buy bread, stock up on water and get my affairs in order.

It is coming.

I am at peace though.  So are my other children.  And so is Franklin. 
While we are not sure of the outcome, hell I don't even know what the present day situation is, there is one thing I am sure.  It is out of my hands. 


It takes years to get there.  And it has taken me awhile to realize that mental illness is sometimes masked as substance abuse.  There is a difference but they love to partner.

And I am glad.  I am tired.  I still have hope but it is the size of a vest for a hummingbird.  I will always go with hope but I am not banking on hope.

I am not mad or sad or angry, I am just done.  I feel like my Halloween decorations.  They were out, displayed and now packed away until next year.  Done.  Over, moving one.  Next.

My friend sent me a message yesterday that stayed in my heart all day. That and my morning prayer.  "Look, I know you are busy with everything in the Philippines right now, but I need a sign so I can get some peace.  Please God."  He answered.  Wow.

The sign at first sent me into an emotional tail spin that shocked me.  But, the four of us found peace.  It is up to him and up to HIM.


Again, I am out of the fortune telling business but I am pretty certain that I won't be getting a dirty bag of laundry or setting a place at the Thanksgiving day table.My gut tells me this.  I wanted to set that extra place so much.  The "button" hasn't been at a holiday table in three years.  I wanted him here. 

My gut knows the above is true.  And my gut knows that on Thanksgiving it will be full and my heart will be empty.

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

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Car Cry: Two days ago, when I was taking Walker to school, a radio morning show was asking the co hostesses on the show "what makes you cry?&qu...

Car Cry

Two days ago, when I was taking Walker to school, a radio morning show was asking the co hostesses on the show "what makes you cry?"

It was a "guy" thing versus a "girl" thing.  The guys were laughing because one lady said that she had a meltdown because when she took her sheets out of the dryer, they were all tangled and had tangled a sweater.  The guys laughed.

My 11 year old son was hysterical. 

There were several incidents where girls cried.  For what seemed like no reason.

Today was a lovely,brisk, sunny, fall day.  I had every minute scheduled.  And all of the minutes were to be productive.  I was on a mission.

About noon, I get a phone call.  I see the caller ID and I want to scream.  The "school".  Never the call you want.  I need to come and get my daughter.  She hurt her  back. 

Ok, regroup.  No big deal.  She could walk.  No wheel chairs in the future.  It was all good. 

Maybe it was the pretty day.  Maybe it was that a new baby was going home this afternoon.  Maybe it was I was thinking about my friends who have cancer.  Philip Phillips singing "HOME" was blaring in the background.  I have had horrible angst in my gut over my oldest son and I was not attending my youngest son's  big baseball weekend in Myrtle Beach.  I was thinking about my friends who lost their son in June, nephews, sadness and just life.

And then it happened.   I started to bawl.  And bawl and bawl.  I was crying so hard in my car that I thought my internal organs were going to come up threw my throat.  And I wasn't breathing so it was the huge sighs along with the blubbering.  Attractive, I am sure.

As I coasted to the red light, I glanced over to the car beside me and the man in car was staring at me, my smeared mascara, my crazy hair and my grief. 

I started to laugh.  I am not sure why.  I just needed to let "it" out. I don't know what "it" was I just needed to let it out.

I just laughed.   Laughed.  I felt better. 



I got to the school.  I went  in to the office to pick up Addie.  I had to wait a little.   There was a mom standing there beside me waiting for her child as well.  And her comes the girl.  She was a mess.  Crying her little heart out.  The mom leaned down and asked, "Honey, whatever is the matter?"

Her response, "no clue."

I felt for her.  The advantage of growing up, you can come undone in your own car and nobody needs to know.