Broken Seed

"why haven't you blogged?"
"I am broken."

There you have it, as simple as that, I am broken.  I feel like my life is broken.

So, I plant.  I am now convinced that Johnny Appleseed had a child who went to summer camp and he didn't know how to cope so he planted.  And planted.  And planted.

I am Johnny Appleseed.

I have planted and planted and planted.  Herbs, veggies, sunflowers (Oh my, have I planted sunflowers).  I just keep planting.  It is great therapy.  And then, when I got my garden together, I started at the kid's school.

I get excited about weeds and penny wort, pulling both are so therapeutic.

But then, the sun sets and once again I realize how sad and broken I feel.  I can only imagine how my son feels.

This trip to summer camp has crushed me.  I am so angry that a $46 dinner bill landed him in summer camp.  I am so angry at his choices and the people he chose to associate with knowing what was at stake.  Broken.

So I plant. I pray at church.

Then, like a scene in a lifetime movie, the preacher spoke.  I swear that he was only speaking to me.  I didn't feel like anyone else was there, just me.

He spoke about being broken.  We have all been broken at one time.  You need to be broken to be fixed.

And then he said this, "you put the whole seed in the soil.  It then breaks apart.  It begins to grow.  And it sprouts and it turns into something so lovely.  It does take time though."

I instantly felt better.  If the "button" turns out to be a sequoia, I will really be angry.  I have time.  I am a gardener.  I will water and feed the "button".  I hope that I truly reap what I have sown.  I just want to live to see it.

Until then, sunflower seeds are fifty cents a packet at the Dollar General.

Pause, I want a do-over!

When I was a kid,  I was a crazy Kick baller.  We played kick ball all the time.  We were so hip that my dad spray painted bases for us on the road.  When we didn't play kick ball, we played dodge ball. 

Every now and then, there was the need for a "do-over".  You know, somebody re-kicked and we ended the fued that was starting.

My kids don't say "do-ver".  They say "pause" until they work it out.  For some reason, that cracks me up.  PAUSE!  And they all pause and work it out.

I haven't blogged because we have been in PAUSE mode.  The "button" hated the blog and wanted me to stop.  As I said in the beginning, if this blogged interefered with his success, then I would PAUSE.

The "button" was trying hard and doing MOST of the things that he needed to dfo to "do-over" his life.

I too, was in need of a "do-over."  I have been working on at finding a  job because I need my routine back.  I hate limbo.  I hate being poor.  Damn, I need a makeover and a do-over.

And, I have been down.  I hate Eyores and Debbie Downers.  So, I just sort of "paused" and withdrew.

And then this weekend came.  I will spare you the details.  The end result was an underage drinking ticket followed by a ridiculous situation that has resulted in the fourth trip to summer camp.   Yes, you read correctly.  Sadly, you read correctly.

So, I sit here in my Tigger suit, glad that I didn't give it away and I turn to words and thoughts.  I have planted over 150 seeds and since I am out of ground to plant, I have to write.

As I put one of the kids to bed the other night, she asked, "are yuou going to write to the Button?"

I said, "no".

She said, "I would like to talk about this decision."

"Go ahead."

"You are his mom.  You said that you would always be there to teach us and to help us.  You said that you would never soay no to  reading.  So you need to be the parent."

Damn.  I felt like I was the size of a Polly-Pocket.

I am speechless and numb.  All five of are speechless, numb, confused and distraught.

And, there is a "button" who needs to Pause and think about a "do-over."

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: When I grow up I want to be...A paste eater

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: When I grow up I want to be...A paste eater: Today, I had to explain to my young co-workers what the item above is and was. They had no idea. It seems like yesterday that I remember...

When I grow up I want to be...A paste eater

Today, I had to explain to my young co-workers what the item above is and was.  They had no idea.  It seems like yesterday that I remember the pink wheel and using it.  I used it with vigor.  I loved school supplies and I loved sitting at my desk using them.  Occasionally, on art day(way before ENCORE CLASSES), the art teacher would come and she would give us each a slab of paste.  Loved the paste.  It came in a big white jar and it tasted like peppermint.  I ate it every time she gave me a slab.  My friend told me that I shouldn't eat the paste because my lungs were going to stick together.  That sounded way too far fetched for me so I kept on eating the paste.In middle school, the didn't have slabs of paste on scratch paper.  I added years to my life I guess. I loved my big fat red red number two pencil and my tablet.  I would try and keep the cover of my tablet clean, neat and without smudges.


Earlier in the week, I had to explain the "Whitney" thing to the same co-workers.  They didn't remember the "Whitney" thing.  They were about six months old then.  They didn't remember the Super Bowl and her singing, her break out album.  Zilch.  I even went to see her in concert at the Civic Arena in Pittsburgh, Pa with my parents.


Damn, I felt so old.  
And one of the co-workers asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up.  Hello, I am almost 51.  I am grown up.  I even get AARP magazine.  Was he serious?  I had an eraser wheel for goodness sake and got slabs of paste once every other week, I am old.  


And he asked again and said, seriously, you still dream about it don't you?
Yes, I do. 
If I could go get ANY job in the whole world today, here are my top three choices.

.

1.  Yes, I would want to be Mary Poppins.  I don't care if I would be on Broadway, waving to the crowd in Disney World with that tiny, tiny waist and lovely outfit, I would want to be Mary Poppins.
2.  The Crap Buyer.  You know when you go into a sports bar or a Ruby Tuesday and they have all that stuff on the walls, I want to be the one who shops and buys it.  How much fun would that be?  You should for old stuff for a living with someone else's money.  Sign me up.
3.  Bed and Breakfast Expert Reviewer.  I would like to have my own show where I travel around the world and visit only Bed and Breakfasts and review them.  I don't really even care for Breakfast but I know I would be good at this job.


That is it.  Any of those three, I would be happy.  And yes, I still dream.  And as I thought about his question, I was amused.  When I was eating paste, I wanted to be a mailman that walked to deliver the  mail or a librarian.  Later,I wanted to be  in radio.  Isn't funny how you end up and where you end up?


If it wouldn't be for this blog, I wouldn't be working with a young kid who never saw an eraser wheel.  He would never have met anyone who actually saw Whitney Houston in concert.  I would never have had the blog if I didn't have a kid.  If didn't stop eating paste, I wouldn't have lived to have the kid.  Funny how things turn out and funny what you turn out to be.

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

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Random s...: it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Random stuff because I am bored at wo rk: So, I have this new job. I write. I write blogs, emails,...

you are ruining my life

I was a senior in high school at the school picnic in Idewild Park.  So, I was about 18.  My mom made me meet her at a certain time (way before cell phones) at the water fountain close to the Caterpillar ride.  The water fountain was brick and you could access it from either side.  I still remember the fountain.  She just wanted to "check on us."


  It was there at one of the meetings, in front of my friends, who were also 18 at the time, that my mother ruined my life.

She pulled out a moistened wash cloth, that had soap on it from a "baggie" and washed my face with it.  Then she made me wash  my hands off.  In front of my friends! I was 18 and about to graduate from High school and go to college and  my  mother whipped out a wash cloth  and washed my face.

I am sure this act  was 14 diary entries of "I hate my mother" worthy. I still remember the day she did this. 

The "button" has informed me that I have" ruined his life and he does not want me to blog anymore. 

"Raising kids is like being pecked to death by a duck."

My mom ruined my life too.  She was a bitch.  If you ever said you were bored, you would be scrubbing a garage door down,cleaning out your drawers(her obsession) or weeding the garden.  

My mother also would come in and run the sweeper at seven am in the summer and then say, "Oh, you don't have to get up."  Or, my favorite, "you don't have to get up, I just need your sheets."

My mom made me work, be respectful, wash dishes, dust, iron, clean toilets and fold laundry.  Damn, I hate to fold laundry.  Hate it.  She made me write thank you notes, work, buy my own clothes and go to bed at a decent time.  She inspected my friends, their parents and their activities.

She also was up my behind like a microscope and that was without caller id, call waiting, gps, cellular devices and video.

I was always amazed that girls could get pregnant and deliver a baby at the prom and their  mom didn't know.

My mom would look at me and say, "you are getting sick."  I would reply "no I am not".  The next day, I was laying like a dead dog.

I wonder what my mom would be like as a parent today with all the modern technology?

One time I skipped school with a bunch of girls and we went to the mall.  She caught me.  She suspected  another time and I was skipping school and I  had to spend the ENTIRE day at a garbage dump because we couldn't go home.  She set a trap.  I sucked face like a rock star one night and I didn't think she knew, she found out.  I told a lie about spending the night somewhere,and of course I wasn't going there. It was the first time I  ever did it and she found out.  Amazing.  She was the best Private Detective ever.

She ruined my life.  I didn't have a car in college, I had muck lucks and a coat.  I walked everywhere.  When I came home from college and was a little wild, she said you need to get out.  Because she ruined my life, I got a job.

My first job was at a radio station.  I was in the radio business for about 32 years because my mom ruined my life.  I have owned a home, had some great kids, traveled, laughed and loved all because my mom ruined my life and was such a bitch.

So, the cycle continues.  Another young life is ruined because a mom cared and wanted the best for a kid.  The travesty.  How dare a mom do such a thing?

I don't think I liked my mom until I was about 23, okay 24ish.  I didn't like her.  She was a nag and a hag and she drove me nuts.

And then one day,I  was on my own, poor as hell, screw that, I was penniless but I was on my own.  I didn't care that I could only afford popcorn for dinner, I was on my own.  I had made it.  I could eat when and what I wanted to, out of the kitchen even, I could fold my clothes anyway I wanted, I was free from the chains of Linda.  Free, Free at last.

Until one day it hit me. Adulthood sucked.  Sucked more than I ever imagined.  Being free was not cheap, you actually pay for that water that comes out of your shower.  You had to be responsible.  Damn, if I could only go home.  But, once again, when my mom was ruining my life, she had instilled, "once you commit, you can not quit."  I couldn't go home.  I would have to suck it up and work hard and work often. 

That is when I fell in love with my mom.  I wondered how she did it, how she came up the cash, the energy and the desire to keep on us like lint on black pants.  How did she and why?

When the "button" was little,  he was going on a field trip.  His first one to the zoo in Columbia, South Carolina.  I was so excited to go over the list the night before.  I packed his lunch with great care and detail.  I packed extra in case some loser mom forgot about the field trip, I wrote the "I love you "note with the lipstick. 

And then, I did the unthinkable.

I moistened a wash cloth with soap, put it in the ziplock bag (baggies were replaced by ziplocks) and I included it in the lunch bag.

And, I screamed.  I screamed right there in my kitchen, loudly.

I called my mom and said, "the worst possible thing has happened.  I have become you.  I am going to ruin this kid's life."

So, I will not include the "button" like before.

He wants to spread his wings and adjust his kinks on his own.  I applaud his decision.  Good for him.  I think it is called "cleaning up spilled milk".  Truly, it is never the mistakes you make that matter, it is how you clean them up that does. 


I will continue to blog.  I guess now I can just focus on the other two lives I am trying to ruin.

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Random stuff because I am bored at wo

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Random stuff because I am bored at work: So, I have this new job. I write. I write blogs, emails, stuff. I just write. Some days I am bored. I have been researching blogs and...