I love the old stories from the elderly. As kids, we would sit around the kitchen table and my great grandma Emma would tell stories about growing up with all of her sisters.
My favorite story that she told me 100 times was this...
It was getting dark early and because they didn't have electricity, the eight girls went to bed. The bed linens were duvets stuffed with hay. They were not tired. I was probably around 7pm so they decided to have a circus with each sister performing one act. When it came to my great grandma Emma, she decided to take a lit candle and shove it up her butt to see how long she could dance with the lit candle up her butt. Well, it sounded good on paper. The candle fell out and lit the curtains on fire. You can only guess the amount of trouble she was in after the circus.
I love those stories. I love talk radio too.
The other day, I discovered a local am radio station discussing the election.
An elderly gentlemen called in and he immediately got every one's attention. He was 82 and spry. Here were his comments on the election.
"Hello, welcome to the show. You said you know why Romney lost. Go for it..."
"Thank you for taking my call. Romney lost because we don't raise our children with respect, pride or grace anymore. He did. But he doesn't understand that most don't."
And then, and I am summarizing, he spoke, in his 82 year old voice with poise and conviction. H spoke about pride, respect and grace. Here is some of what he said.
He said that when he married his wife, he loved her.
They were too young too get married but that is what you did. You got married. And shortly after they were married the first child came. Naturally, everything changed. Then came another, and so on. There were five boys. And the gentlemen worked. And the wife raised the kids. Over time, he didn't know his wife. They didn't speak about them, they spoke about the children. There were not couple weekends, or date nights of girl's nights out...it was just him, the five boys and his wife.
Of course over the years, there were highs and lows. The gentlemen knew they were broke when there was oatmeal with no milk, lots of potatoes and cabbage for dinner and then leftover cabage for breakfast and the boys taped the soles of their shoes. His wife never complained. The boys always looked immaculate. So did his wife.
Church was mandatory on Sunday, followed by a visit to the in-laws or parents on Sundays. The boys stayed outside and played and carried a change of clothes with them. The boys did the dishes after the meals,without being asked, so the women could talk, they didn't interrupt, they worked after the meal.
His wife never washed a dish after a meal, never took the trash out, never made the beds after a certain age. For birthdays, they got homemade cakes, their favorite meals and always a special treat in their lunch bag. When they got older, a huge treat was a new baseball glove, not a hand me down glove. It was the only real new thing the boys ever got and she made me take them to purchase it.
The boys adored their mother. She was there for them everyday after school, when they were sick and when they needed her. She wasn't there for me emotionally, she was there for them and that was enough. At Christmas, I don't know how she did it, but she always put on the big Christmas. Years ago, I learned that she took any change that she ever got and hid it in a jar. She used that money for Christmas. I never knew then. Her extra work made Christmas magical. All of us got a new pair of pajamas on Christmas eve, the only package you were allowed to open and that was after church.
And then the boys left. She joined every group and club and became a new person. She traveled and volunteered and book clubbed and ate at restaurants. And then she was more tender to me.
One day , at lunch, I looked at her and asked, "when the boys were young, were you happy?" "Oh, I don't know, I was too busy. I suppose I was if packing lunches, cleaning house, doing laundry, homework, grocery shopping, cooking and baking and making sure that I was raising five honorable men without any compensation only smiles, makes you happy, then yes, I was happy. It was my job. It didn't matter that I was happy or not. What mattered was that I signed up to be their mother and your wife and there was not quitting. I could never have an off day. I had 12 eyes looking at me. It was my job. I was proud of the life I chose and even on the days that I wanted to scream, I chose this job. I never had a sick day, a vacation day or a mental health day. It was my job".
And then he said this, "from that day on, I looked differently at my wife. She didn't have the pills of today to take the edge off, the modern day appliances or even the modern day conveniences, if she was in the mood for cookies, she made them. She and the whole generation of us was too proud to fight or admit that we were struggling and we had too much respect for ourselves and our children to see anything different."
She was committed to her job. Her job was to raise her family to understand, appreciate and practice Honor, Pride and Respect and she never waivered. And without even knowing, she made me do the same. There were not shootings and schools then, there was always that "family" that everybody knew about but nobody ever discussed but there were not drug addicts, babies born at the dance or people having babies that never cared for them. My kids never wore pajamas to the mall, they protected sex, they courted their women, they paid their bills and bought their own cars and they never wanted to disappoint their mama. They respected their mother, and she taught them to be honorable and she lived honorably. She taught them to have pride.
Times has changed, this is true. It is a new generation, I am aware. What has changed, and should not have changed, is the commitment that we have to our children. The lessons that we teach our children is more important than ever. Spend more time with your kids and an book than you do with your kids at the mall or in front of the television and you will have better kids. Spend more time eating at the kitchen table with your kids than in your car with cell phones and you will have better kids. Spend more time in church with your kids and you will have better kids. Spend more time with your in-laws and your family members and you will have better kids. Spend more time doing less for your kids and allowing them to do more and you will have better kids. And spend more time caring or them and their needs then you do for your own and you will have better kids.
This was not the same as sticking a lighted candle up your butt and most of what he said i have heard before and practice myself. It was his strength and conviction that struck me. His conviction and his passion. I totally believe that the same conviction and passion was the fuel that carried his wife.
It carried me as well.
I don't know if this is why a candidate one and another lost. I don't care. It does make good sense that this makes for a better family.
Some days when I feel like "what the hell", I am going to think about this lady and wish that she would have run for an elected official.
the story of kids,chaos, mothering challenges and sometimes chocolate
Monday, November 12, 2012
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
I'm a Buzz kill
Yesterday, two states voted to legalize marijuana.
Look, I am not Rebbecca from Sunny brook Farms. I have had my moments. I have "waked and baked" before a WVU football game or two. I have done a couple of bong hits on Friday afternoon after class. I get it. The key words here were "game or two" and "couple of" and this was back in the 80's.
I didn't flunk out, I had a job and during my freshman year, I DEFINITELY took advantage of being away from home and not having my mom's keen senses around.
I watch the news clips last night of the crowds cheering and I was sad. Everybody was dressed in "grunge", they were young and the signs they carried had words that were not spelled correctly.
It was just so sad to me. There are so many things going on in the world today and I just wondered if any of the reporters asked the sign carriers, "hey, do you know anything about an Embassy being bombed?"
Marijuana is "supposed" to make you laugh, get the munchies and relax. Hmmmm.
Today's marijuana is a business. The simple fact is that marijuana today is much stronger than what they used to have 20 years ago.
A 1983 study of THC showed that the pot from the 80's had only 4% of THC. Today, 10% more THC.
The reason, it is ADDICTIVE. Give them more THC, they will want it more. And since marijuana potency's have been increasing for the last two decades, there is a greater chance of adverse mental effects when the drug is abused.
Typically, you start smoking pot when you are young, high school age, when your brain is developing, your body is changing and you or your friends are behind the wheel. And, it is during this time that users learn to "escape" by abusing, thus, they lose the life skills they were just developing.
Marijuana has changed five lives forever. My family's lives. My son is a substance abuser. Pot and Booze. Just pot and booze. I love the line, "pot is really no big deal, it is organic", Bullshit. Peanut butter can be organic. You need to eat, you don't need to be stoned.
Look, I have had too much to drink and I have smoked some weed. SOME. I never let it consume me or my life. I have never lost a job or missed a day of work because of weed.
I know several who have and they are young and not a could habit to learn.
If we allow folks to smoke dope, what is next, fornicating in public parks? Isn't anything sacred anymore?
If you are 42 years old, own your own home, your wife goes out of town for the weekend and you go to your buddy's house to watch the big game and he offers you a hit off a joint, is it a big deal? NO. You are a man, fiscally responsible and your brain is developed and you get "being responsible for your own actions."
Young kids are not fiscally responsible, they do not get "being responsible for their own actions" and the brains are not developed yet. Kind of like not eating carrots, "it will stunt your intellectual growth."
I watched the news clip several times today, each time with greater sadness. One life, at least will be ruined because of pot. Kind of a buzz kill, don't you think?.
Look, I am not Rebbecca from Sunny brook Farms. I have had my moments. I have "waked and baked" before a WVU football game or two. I have done a couple of bong hits on Friday afternoon after class. I get it. The key words here were "game or two" and "couple of" and this was back in the 80's.
I didn't flunk out, I had a job and during my freshman year, I DEFINITELY took advantage of being away from home and not having my mom's keen senses around.
I watch the news clips last night of the crowds cheering and I was sad. Everybody was dressed in "grunge", they were young and the signs they carried had words that were not spelled correctly.
It was just so sad to me. There are so many things going on in the world today and I just wondered if any of the reporters asked the sign carriers, "hey, do you know anything about an Embassy being bombed?"
Marijuana is "supposed" to make you laugh, get the munchies and relax. Hmmmm.
Today's marijuana is a business. The simple fact is that marijuana today is much stronger than what they used to have 20 years ago.
A 1983 study of THC showed that the pot from the 80's had only 4% of THC. Today, 10% more THC.
The reason, it is ADDICTIVE. Give them more THC, they will want it more. And since marijuana potency's have been increasing for the last two decades, there is a greater chance of adverse mental effects when the drug is abused.
Typically, you start smoking pot when you are young, high school age, when your brain is developing, your body is changing and you or your friends are behind the wheel. And, it is during this time that users learn to "escape" by abusing, thus, they lose the life skills they were just developing.
Marijuana has changed five lives forever. My family's lives. My son is a substance abuser. Pot and Booze. Just pot and booze. I love the line, "pot is really no big deal, it is organic", Bullshit. Peanut butter can be organic. You need to eat, you don't need to be stoned.
Look, I have had too much to drink and I have smoked some weed. SOME. I never let it consume me or my life. I have never lost a job or missed a day of work because of weed.
I know several who have and they are young and not a could habit to learn.
If we allow folks to smoke dope, what is next, fornicating in public parks? Isn't anything sacred anymore?
If you are 42 years old, own your own home, your wife goes out of town for the weekend and you go to your buddy's house to watch the big game and he offers you a hit off a joint, is it a big deal? NO. You are a man, fiscally responsible and your brain is developed and you get "being responsible for your own actions."
Young kids are not fiscally responsible, they do not get "being responsible for their own actions" and the brains are not developed yet. Kind of like not eating carrots, "it will stunt your intellectual growth."
I watched the news clip several times today, each time with greater sadness. One life, at least will be ruined because of pot. Kind of a buzz kill, don't you think?.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: A message from an a mystery woman
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: A message from an a mystery woman: This week I received a note. I have read this note fifteen times. Here it is. "I too had a son who became involved with pot while in...
A message from an a mystery woman
This week I received a note.
I have read this note fifteen times.
Here it is.
"I too had a son who became involved with pot while in high school. He never actually went to summer camp but there were traffic stops, tickets, court appearances and attorneys. I felt so many of the things you talk about in your blog and reading your blog brought memories of those feelings. The fear for your child and the desperate feeling that you HAVE to do something, anything before it gets any worse was so paralyzing at times.
I lost both my brother and my sister to drug involvement. My sister lived her life involved with drugs, hard drugs. She suffered a massive coronary at age 36. My brother was murdered when he was 24 years old because he went to pick up a friend who was hanging out with a group of pot smokers one night. My brother said something one of them did not like. He was stabbed in the heart and died before he reached the hospital.
My son looked so much like my brother. I kept picturing my son laying in the casket instead of my brother. I was so frightened for him and his future.
This was a few years ago. Now he is in his second year at college and is on the Dean's list. He lives on his own and he is responsible and aiming for a future.
I guess I wanted to share that there is a HOPE. I pray that one day in the future you will look back on this and it will be no more than looking back."
Okay, "so you go to the market with your troubles in a bag....you will come back with your bag". I have read this fifteen times.
And it made me think...Why, as a nation, as a country, as a state and a community are we not crazed by the drugs and the abuse in our country? A group of replacement refs make a bad call in the end zone and our nation goes crazy for a week. We were consumed by the call. One woman loses and brother AND as sister and we don't talk about it. One bad call and we go bizerk. Over thousands of young deaths and nothing.
The small county that I live in has the HIGHEST prescription drug abuse deaths in the state and nothing. I tried with town hall meetings but my kids were bullied and the "button" was pulled out of his car at a red light and threatened.
Kids are dying from drinking energy drinks. Try and get your child in a a rehab center...there are "no beds available".
This is so serious. And so sad. So very, very sad.
I don't know the lady who sent me this note. What I do know is I felt every word she wrote, to the very core of my soul.
The worse feeling in the world is when your kid doesn't get off the school bus or he leaves in the car as a new driver and you hear sirens...multiply this fear by a trillion.
And yet, she talked about HOPE. That word again. So tiny and so powerful. HOPE.
A student in Tennessee died because of butt chugging (enemas filled with booze, absorption into the body is faster and a parent cannot smell alcohol) and another girl in California died because she drank hand sanitizer.
So sad. I am sure that if my son could high from bird seed he would be standing under the bird feeder flapping his wings. We have a society of substance abusers.
My friend lived in NYC for years. Suddenly, she moved. Her reason was this, she wasnt' affected by the homeless any longer.
Maybe that is the deal. Maybe we just accept it. Maybe we don't care. Maybe we don't think it can happen in our homes.
And if it does hit your home, I can assure you, you will care.
I have thought so much about this woman and her journey and if her mother had to bury two of her children, and what was the magic that turned her son around. I think about her strength. I think about her courage and the guts it tool to reach out to me.
And I think about that word that she wished for me, HOPE.
I hope that as a nation, we can focus on getting our citizens well.
I HOPE that she has peace in heart and I hope that others who are struggling, find peace as their new substance as choice.
I have read this note fifteen times.
Here it is.
"I too had a son who became involved with pot while in high school. He never actually went to summer camp but there were traffic stops, tickets, court appearances and attorneys. I felt so many of the things you talk about in your blog and reading your blog brought memories of those feelings. The fear for your child and the desperate feeling that you HAVE to do something, anything before it gets any worse was so paralyzing at times.
I lost both my brother and my sister to drug involvement. My sister lived her life involved with drugs, hard drugs. She suffered a massive coronary at age 36. My brother was murdered when he was 24 years old because he went to pick up a friend who was hanging out with a group of pot smokers one night. My brother said something one of them did not like. He was stabbed in the heart and died before he reached the hospital.
My son looked so much like my brother. I kept picturing my son laying in the casket instead of my brother. I was so frightened for him and his future.
This was a few years ago. Now he is in his second year at college and is on the Dean's list. He lives on his own and he is responsible and aiming for a future.
I guess I wanted to share that there is a HOPE. I pray that one day in the future you will look back on this and it will be no more than looking back."
Okay, "so you go to the market with your troubles in a bag....you will come back with your bag". I have read this fifteen times.
And it made me think...Why, as a nation, as a country, as a state and a community are we not crazed by the drugs and the abuse in our country? A group of replacement refs make a bad call in the end zone and our nation goes crazy for a week. We were consumed by the call. One woman loses and brother AND as sister and we don't talk about it. One bad call and we go bizerk. Over thousands of young deaths and nothing.
The small county that I live in has the HIGHEST prescription drug abuse deaths in the state and nothing. I tried with town hall meetings but my kids were bullied and the "button" was pulled out of his car at a red light and threatened.
Kids are dying from drinking energy drinks. Try and get your child in a a rehab center...there are "no beds available".
This is so serious. And so sad. So very, very sad.
I don't know the lady who sent me this note. What I do know is I felt every word she wrote, to the very core of my soul.
The worse feeling in the world is when your kid doesn't get off the school bus or he leaves in the car as a new driver and you hear sirens...multiply this fear by a trillion.
And yet, she talked about HOPE. That word again. So tiny and so powerful. HOPE.
A student in Tennessee died because of butt chugging (enemas filled with booze, absorption into the body is faster and a parent cannot smell alcohol) and another girl in California died because she drank hand sanitizer.
So sad. I am sure that if my son could high from bird seed he would be standing under the bird feeder flapping his wings. We have a society of substance abusers.
My friend lived in NYC for years. Suddenly, she moved. Her reason was this, she wasnt' affected by the homeless any longer.
Maybe that is the deal. Maybe we just accept it. Maybe we don't care. Maybe we don't think it can happen in our homes.
And if it does hit your home, I can assure you, you will care.
I have thought so much about this woman and her journey and if her mother had to bury two of her children, and what was the magic that turned her son around. I think about her strength. I think about her courage and the guts it tool to reach out to me.
And I think about that word that she wished for me, HOPE.
I hope that as a nation, we can focus on getting our citizens well.
I HOPE that she has peace in heart and I hope that others who are struggling, find peace as their new substance as choice.
Monday, October 22, 2012
The smallest of comforts
When I started this blog, it was truly meant to help other families and perhaps other children. And oh yes, somewhere along the way, it became great comfort for me.
But my comforted was never my intent. Truly, it has been to help other families. I have had several woman call me, email me privately, sit on my porch or just write me to get their "load off." And I do think that this blog has made a difference.
In the last few weeks, several things have happened. I have gained strength that I didn't know possible. And, I have had a few people say some crazy things to me. "You make me uncomfortable when you refer to the button, like, when the button played baseball...." I looked at my friend and said, "he's not dead." He is still my son.
And there was this comment made about 50 times, "I would really like to just beat the hell out of him." Okay, if punches get to be thrown, I am pretty sure that Franklin and I get the first swing. "I am just so mad at him." These are the comments that have been made to us and we understand.
Long gone are the questions, "what is his address, can I write?" The support has left the room. And I get it, I totally understand. Totally.
But yet, we are still the "elephant" in the room. I still hear the whispers and people grab my hand and tilt their heads and say, How are you?" It cracks me up. I so appreciate the support but I am not the first person to have a "troubled" child. I don't spend my days in the hospital or a physical therapy center and as much as I loathe summer camp, I can see my child without tubes in his mouth.
But still, after 7 arrests in 14 months, it appears it is a lost cause. Understandably.
On Friday night, I was driving Walker and his bff in the car. Walker pulls out the "button's" knife that he made during his wilderness trip. Hmmmm, this was not a good thing. And I said the "button's" name and how in the scheme of things, you should not touch something that doesn not belong to you, let alone take it for the weekend.
The little 10 year old beside me, looked up, as genuine as could be with his enormous brown eyes and asked, "so how is the button?" No elelphant in the room, no tilt of the head, just a straight out genuine question.
"Well, he's fine as he can be."
"Good, do you get to talk to him or see him?" I kept my eyes on the road as much as I wanted to look in the rear view to see the look on Walker's face, but I kept my eyes straight away.
"I can see him on his visiting day and he does write, in fact, we got a letter today."
"Really, what did it say?"
"Well, he said to Walker and Addie that they should learn from him. Don't ever drink or try drugs, it isn't worth it. Nothing good will come out of it and it is not worth it. Learn from him."
"Well that is good" said the 10 year old who is wise beyond his years. And then he tells me this, "my dad just picked for jury duty and I was glad because now he can be in the courtroom with the button and he can help his case."
I love young innocence.
I laughed and told him, "it doesn't work that way but thanks."
"Well, when you see him next time, tell him I am routing for him."
Seriously, my heart grew as big as the earth at that moment. And I wanted to look at my son and see his face after hearing that from his bff but I wanted Walker to have that peace all to himself.
And, as young and innocent as that little guy is, he gave me great comfort. And a smile.
But my comforted was never my intent. Truly, it has been to help other families. I have had several woman call me, email me privately, sit on my porch or just write me to get their "load off." And I do think that this blog has made a difference.
In the last few weeks, several things have happened. I have gained strength that I didn't know possible. And, I have had a few people say some crazy things to me. "You make me uncomfortable when you refer to the button, like, when the button played baseball...." I looked at my friend and said, "he's not dead." He is still my son.
And there was this comment made about 50 times, "I would really like to just beat the hell out of him." Okay, if punches get to be thrown, I am pretty sure that Franklin and I get the first swing. "I am just so mad at him." These are the comments that have been made to us and we understand.
Long gone are the questions, "what is his address, can I write?" The support has left the room. And I get it, I totally understand. Totally.
But yet, we are still the "elephant" in the room. I still hear the whispers and people grab my hand and tilt their heads and say, How are you?" It cracks me up. I so appreciate the support but I am not the first person to have a "troubled" child. I don't spend my days in the hospital or a physical therapy center and as much as I loathe summer camp, I can see my child without tubes in his mouth.
But still, after 7 arrests in 14 months, it appears it is a lost cause. Understandably.
On Friday night, I was driving Walker and his bff in the car. Walker pulls out the "button's" knife that he made during his wilderness trip. Hmmmm, this was not a good thing. And I said the "button's" name and how in the scheme of things, you should not touch something that doesn not belong to you, let alone take it for the weekend.
The little 10 year old beside me, looked up, as genuine as could be with his enormous brown eyes and asked, "so how is the button?" No elelphant in the room, no tilt of the head, just a straight out genuine question.
"Well, he's fine as he can be."
"Good, do you get to talk to him or see him?" I kept my eyes on the road as much as I wanted to look in the rear view to see the look on Walker's face, but I kept my eyes straight away.
"I can see him on his visiting day and he does write, in fact, we got a letter today."
"Really, what did it say?"
"Well, he said to Walker and Addie that they should learn from him. Don't ever drink or try drugs, it isn't worth it. Nothing good will come out of it and it is not worth it. Learn from him."
"Well that is good" said the 10 year old who is wise beyond his years. And then he tells me this, "my dad just picked for jury duty and I was glad because now he can be in the courtroom with the button and he can help his case."
I love young innocence.
I laughed and told him, "it doesn't work that way but thanks."
"Well, when you see him next time, tell him I am routing for him."
Seriously, my heart grew as big as the earth at that moment. And I wanted to look at my son and see his face after hearing that from his bff but I wanted Walker to have that peace all to himself.
And, as young and innocent as that little guy is, he gave me great comfort. And a smile.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Sweet n Low
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Sweet n Low: I used to think that my life was divided into segments. Segment one=youth Segment two=college Segment three=first marriage Segment four...
Sweet n Low
I used to think that my life was divided into segments.
Segment one=youth
Segment two=college
Segment three=first marriage
Segment four=everything else afterward.
I have changed the segments.
Segment one=youth
Segment two=college
Segment three=first marriage
Segment four=Mary Tyler Moore days
Segment five=Married with Kids
Segment six=summer camp drama
The path between Segment Three and Segment four was incredible. I will state for the record that my first husband and I both acted poorly. Repeatedly. But, we hung on. Over and over and over again. Tears, fights, crap. It was not good.
Until one morning.
The Sweet and Low morning.
My first husband would take TWO sweet and low packets every morning, rip them open, and only dump HALF of EACH packet into his coffee. Now, I know that I am not good in math, but, isn't that one ENTIRE packet?. No, there we two halves, ripped open, with four pieces of pink paper on the counter with the artificial sweetener residue on the counter EVERY MORNING for me to pick up.
This was our toothpaste argument. But, it was more than that, Every morning there was a mess presented to me, to clean up. Every morning. And I would say, "hey, why don't you try one packet, and dump the whole thing in?" or hey, how about throwing this in the trash afterward?" or "hey, you made this mess, clean it up?"
One morning, after a bad night with my ex-husband, you know, "i will change, I want this to work, I promise I will do better, blah blah, blah, blah blah blah, I entered the kitchen.
And there they were. The two pale pink packets, ripped in half, left over artificial sweetener on the counter and I knew. What my mother couldn't tell me, what the shrink couldn't tell me, what my brain could not absorb, was there, On the counter all dressed in pale pink.
I knew then my marriage was over. Nothing was going to change. Nothing. No more tears, no more falling apart. Just composure and moving forward for myself.
Last week, chance and business put me in Beaufort during visiting hours at summer camp. I decided to to go the Used Book store and buy some books. I did. Look, if your continuing education means summer camp, you might as well learn. And, honestly, it was important to Walker. And when I dropped them off, the man said," Mrs. G, you are on the visitation list."
For those of you who haven't had the privilege of ever visiting summer camp...you have to be on the list. If you are not on the list, you do not go up.
Hmmm. I was on the list. I looked at him and said, "not sure that glass is strong enough." He says, "look, this is none of my business, none at all. He put your name on the list. When I took him his books last week and he saw they were from you, his eyes welled. Go up."
I shook my head and went outside. I didn't know what to do. I really didn't think I was ready. And then it hit me, God put me here. Go up.
I went. He came out. Okay, once again, nothing prepares you to see your child like this. Nothing.
He sat down and said, "I shouldn't be here."
He might as well have been dressed in pale pink with artificial sweetener coming out of his mouth.
I very calmly and sternly asked, "And what behavior DID YOU HAVE TO PREVENT THIS?"
And when my "button" FINALLY looked at me and said, "I am an alcoholic and a pretty big drug abuser" I just looked at him and said, "then YOU will have to get the help, the tools and the care you need. This is your deal. You need to clean it up."
I was poised, calm and filled with composure.
And shortly after I finally heard the confession I needed to hear, I got up and said, "i have to go see a client."
There it was, the "sweet and low" moment. It finally happened for me. I cannot help him anymore. He has to do it himself. I cannot clean it up, I cannot fix it, I cannot do it anymore. My addiction to cleaning up after my son was over. At that moment. And I felt better.
And now the acceptance process starts.
And this week, when visitation hours rolled around, I didn't go. I didn't drop off any books either. I wrote a letter instead.
What really bothered me the most was I finally heard what we have been telling my son all along and he finally got it. That should have been a "sweet" moment. Instead, it was a very "low" one.
I
Segment one=youth
Segment two=college
Segment three=first marriage
Segment four=everything else afterward.
I have changed the segments.
Segment one=youth
Segment two=college
Segment three=first marriage
Segment four=Mary Tyler Moore days
Segment five=Married with Kids
Segment six=summer camp drama
The path between Segment Three and Segment four was incredible. I will state for the record that my first husband and I both acted poorly. Repeatedly. But, we hung on. Over and over and over again. Tears, fights, crap. It was not good.
Until one morning.
The Sweet and Low morning.
My first husband would take TWO sweet and low packets every morning, rip them open, and only dump HALF of EACH packet into his coffee. Now, I know that I am not good in math, but, isn't that one ENTIRE packet?. No, there we two halves, ripped open, with four pieces of pink paper on the counter with the artificial sweetener residue on the counter EVERY MORNING for me to pick up.
This was our toothpaste argument. But, it was more than that, Every morning there was a mess presented to me, to clean up. Every morning. And I would say, "hey, why don't you try one packet, and dump the whole thing in?" or hey, how about throwing this in the trash afterward?" or "hey, you made this mess, clean it up?"
One morning, after a bad night with my ex-husband, you know, "i will change, I want this to work, I promise I will do better, blah blah, blah, blah blah blah, I entered the kitchen.
And there they were. The two pale pink packets, ripped in half, left over artificial sweetener on the counter and I knew. What my mother couldn't tell me, what the shrink couldn't tell me, what my brain could not absorb, was there, On the counter all dressed in pale pink.
I knew then my marriage was over. Nothing was going to change. Nothing. No more tears, no more falling apart. Just composure and moving forward for myself.
Last week, chance and business put me in Beaufort during visiting hours at summer camp. I decided to to go the Used Book store and buy some books. I did. Look, if your continuing education means summer camp, you might as well learn. And, honestly, it was important to Walker. And when I dropped them off, the man said," Mrs. G, you are on the visitation list."
For those of you who haven't had the privilege of ever visiting summer camp...you have to be on the list. If you are not on the list, you do not go up.
Hmmm. I was on the list. I looked at him and said, "not sure that glass is strong enough." He says, "look, this is none of my business, none at all. He put your name on the list. When I took him his books last week and he saw they were from you, his eyes welled. Go up."
I shook my head and went outside. I didn't know what to do. I really didn't think I was ready. And then it hit me, God put me here. Go up.
I went. He came out. Okay, once again, nothing prepares you to see your child like this. Nothing.
He sat down and said, "I shouldn't be here."
He might as well have been dressed in pale pink with artificial sweetener coming out of his mouth.
I very calmly and sternly asked, "And what behavior DID YOU HAVE TO PREVENT THIS?"
And when my "button" FINALLY looked at me and said, "I am an alcoholic and a pretty big drug abuser" I just looked at him and said, "then YOU will have to get the help, the tools and the care you need. This is your deal. You need to clean it up."
I was poised, calm and filled with composure.
And shortly after I finally heard the confession I needed to hear, I got up and said, "i have to go see a client."
There it was, the "sweet and low" moment. It finally happened for me. I cannot help him anymore. He has to do it himself. I cannot clean it up, I cannot fix it, I cannot do it anymore. My addiction to cleaning up after my son was over. At that moment. And I felt better.
And now the acceptance process starts.
And this week, when visitation hours rolled around, I didn't go. I didn't drop off any books either. I wrote a letter instead.
What really bothered me the most was I finally heard what we have been telling my son all along and he finally got it. That should have been a "sweet" moment. Instead, it was a very "low" one.
I
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