I'm Going To Bum You Out BUT! It has a happy ending

My dad has steadily declined to the point that my mother basically had no choice but to retire from her cleaning job. With that decision, she no longer receives a free apartment so of course I've spent the last month worrying and praying and hoping that God would provide something in the way of help. Between the stress of losing her son and now her husband growing more frail and weak every day, I don't know how she's held up, but she has done so.

My mom is truly a remarkable woman, the strongest person I know and never one to complain about the hardships she's faced. My Dad has been my best friend and to see him lose all dignity when he could no longer stand or make it to the bathroom, to watch him go five and six days at a time without eating and his chest slowly rising and falling above nothing more than a ribcage has been hard on all of us. He was so strong and it only seems like a couple of years ago. Now, he trembles all the time, his eyes are milky and he gets confused about who I am sometimes.

My husband and I are struggling to hold onto our home and put food in the house and we've gone a few meals where we were all still hungry, but the most important thing is that we're together, we love each other very much and we're happy.

Last night, my Dad called me. He barely has the breath to use the phone so I knew something was wrong, especially when I heard commotion behind him.

"Daddy? Daddy? Answer me! Dad?"

With labored breathing, he managed to tell me he fell outside. Where he is not supposed to go by himself. My mom had come over to help me with a few things and was on her way back as this was happening. I immediately put down the phone, packed up my kids and headed over. I was not prepared for what I saw when I got there.

My sister, Penny, stopped me first. "Lot of blood," she barely managed to choke out before retching in the bushes. I know all the color drained from my face as I shoved the on lookers away and elbowed in between some very nice paramedics to be closer to the man who told me I could be anything. There was blood everywhere, pools of it, it looked as though someone had been murdered. My dad, however, was alert and responsive so my heart slowed down a bit.

After a long and kind visit to the emergency room, the cleaned and x rayed and cat scanned and found nothing broken, save for his old injuries. While in the ER, my dad mentioned to my Mom that he didn't know how they were going to pay rent with hospital bills and medications he needed. I give them money when I can but it's not much. They are very private people so they had this conversation in hushed tones but my dad is deaf as a post so I heard every word. So did Devon. He left with a strange look on his face.

Since the spring of this year, Devon has been working 40 hours a week at Sonic. Every week we take him down to the bank and he painstakingly signs over his check and gets a summary of what he has. He is hoping to have at least a junker car by the beginning of the school year so he can continue working. He goes in on his days off, he's never late, subordinate and loves to teach others and encourage him. I thought I couldn't be more proud of him.

Last night, without any help from anyone or any interference, my son went to his bank account and drained it. He then went to the apartment complex manager and paid my parents rent for the next month. When I asked him what he'd done, how would he get his car, he said this: "A car is a car. I can get that later. Mimi and Pop having some peace of mind is what we needed right now." And with that, he would hear or speak no more about it. Keep in mind that he's 17 years old.

I am honored even know him, much less be his mother. We should all be so selfless.

Poke

Well, I did what I said I wouldn't do and I let the negativity and the people behind it get the best of me. I beat the crap out of myself, questioned my very existence and in survival mode pushed it so far from my mind that I never even really thought about this blog, any longer.

Except that I did. From time to time I would wonder why it didn't call to me any more. And it wasn't the money or the lack thereof because my advertising was pulled, and it wasn't the other things that ultimately fell apart that I had been working on for nearly a year. It was the fear of all the ugliness, such animosity that I'm not used to nor do I understand or return. It was such an astonishment to me that a series of angry emails from a bunch of strangers caused so much turmoil in my life. I truly believe in innocent until proven guilty, and even then, it's not my place to judge anyone for anything. What I've found is that the very minute I judge someone, I'm inevitably facing that same situation. Life has a way of making you face up to your prejudices and snobbery and I am very careful what I think, say or do.

So, we have struggled mightily this past 8 months and I still don't see the light at the end of the tunnel. But I'm ashamed of myself for letting others dictate my happiness. My mother lost a son and never once has she felt sorry for herself or blamed anyone. She simply goes on and does so with grace and unwavering dignity. I am her daughter and I'm made of more than this.

BlogHer and their decision was wrong, though they may never say so. The other campaigns I was working with were wrong for leaving me twisting in the wind, but I suppose that's just how business goes. I was so frustrated and so angry for so long because it literally took the food out of my kids mouths and for no other reason than the hatred of some strangers (who have since fallen off the blogosphere) and their determination to ruin my hard-earned, simple life.

But I have made my share of mistakes and I have been forgiven and I have to do the same and let go of all this. It's made me sad for too long. The thing is, when someone gets the best of you, you can always get it back.

_________________________

So, here are some updates.

My family is about the same. As you all know, I'm running my own insurance agency right now and not doing a very good job of it. I truly had no idea how hard this would be. I feel like I'm floundering and I have dreams every night that I'm workiing at Wal Mart. AND I'M HAPPY.

Virginia is at church camp. While the other kids on the bus were teary eyed and clinging to their Mom's (and one poor girl got off at the last minute), I was taking pics of my kid as she calmly played Flipnotes on her DS and impatiently flapped her hand at me to go away. Meanwhile, her dog was busy pooping in my car in protest of my refusal to let him out to see her onto the bus. Not everyone understands that when he gets nervous, he does an Elvis snarl and it makes some people understandably uncomfortable. So, he pooped. Did he poop on my seat? NAY! He pooped in the crevices between my seat and my cupholder. Then he pooped in the crevices between my seat and my door. And to top it all off, he left little sprinkles of poop UNDER my gas pedal, which of course I didn't see so I was stomping crap all the way home. God, I love this dog.

Devon is working and spending most of his time complaining about the economy and how much food costs and GOOD GRIEF, THEY'RE JUST TENNIS SHOES, WHY ARE THEY A HUNDRED BUCKS? If you have kids that haven't gone to work yet, this is the most fun I've had in years.

Harmony is the Prime Minister of Peace for the Toddler nation. Every day at school, she hugs all of her classmates and asks if they can come live with us. Denying that request is not a deterrent, so she just nods and asks again the next day. And the next. Now, when I go in, all the toddlers must hug me and show me what they brought to school that day for show and tell and I end up spending 45 minutes looking at dolls and snakes while Harmony stands smugly by with a look on her face that clearly says, "See? They're growing on you, aren't they?"

My dad has had a mini stroke and is in end stage emphysema and suffering congestive heart failure. He is, as my sister says, beef jerky though so it's going to take more than that to flatten him. He is amazing.

Me? I'm pushing forward. I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing and I feel very much like I still haven't realized my purpose, whatever that may be, but I'm trying so hard not to wallow in depression and some days, I fight to get out of bed. Most of the time I'm frightened and anxious and unsure, but some days I'm okay. And those are the ones I'm fighting for.

Shortly after this whole meltdown, I went to a gas station and saw a dog sitting outside the automatic doors, whining at everyone who came in. When the owner came out and tried to shoo him, I asked what had happened. Ironically, someone had come to get gas and pushed him out of the car. He is my constant companion, road trip buddy and the sweetest creature I've ever had the pleasure of encountering. I like to think this was God's way of telling me to stop punishing myself for a horrid delusion I made a reality and to move on and that all of the people who worked so hard to hurt me didn't matter. His name is Jack McKnob and I'll leave you with a short video of his sweet face.

I miss all of you. Thank you for the emails letting me know you're thinking of me and thank you for your support and your kindness. Always your kindness. I hope you know how much you've helped me.

Happy 4th, My Love

So, every year around our anniversary, Chris gets all fired up about helping out with the thing he hates the most: laundry. I ask him to do one basket so he doesn't blow a fuse and he and his ADHD will inevitably wander around with a shirt, a pair of granny panties and a towel until he gets distracted and puts them down somewhere that makes total sense. Like, in the refrigerator.
(side note: Our fridge went kaput. Chris is a die hard Ebay and Craigslist man so he went in search of a new/used fridge. He kept frowning and finally on the 3rd day, he seemed pleased with the results he was viewing. "What changed?" I asked. "I figured out that refrigerator doesn't have a 'd' in it," he answered. "I'm finding quite a few, now.")

So, here today, I'm attaching a video clip that I took tonight because I think it's hysterical that he attacks laundry as enthusiastically as one might face a barium enema with a side of ballectomy.

For the record, we are having fun with each other. So, lay off. He knows I appreciate any and all help.

Chris, I love you. You are not only my best friend, but you're still the best man I've ever known. I would marry you again, in every lifetime, if I believed in that reincarnation crap. Only it would suck if we came back as praying mantis' because then I would have to eat you after we mate. Sorry. I would still love you. Gotta feed them babies, ya know. And hey! We got to mate before I ate your head! Whoot!

(I couldn't get it to work here, so go to youtube. It's worth it)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BjwXeen-Nv0

Boundaries and My Complete Lack of Common Sense About Orphans

Harmony figured out very quickly that sharing is a very desirable two way street. She loves the rewards she gets from sharing because it basically means that there is nothing she doesn't have a piece of. She's part owner of our dog, the house, everything in my purse, her Dad and anything else she deems shareable. She's very quick to remind us if we're not sharing properly and that people who don't share end up with 'nuffin'.

I'm truly very proud of her because she's quick to offer things that most toddlers would hoard, most notably candy. We keep a jar of tootsie rolls on hand because it's her favorite candy and we will occasionally reward her for a whole day without any bathroom accidents or for helping without being asked.

On one particular day, I gave her two because her behavior had been exemplary. She quickly wolfed down one and then looked at the second treat before thrusting it back at me. "I want to share dis wit you, Mommy."

"Oh, honey, that's okay. I don't really like tootsie rolls, but, thank you for offering."

One thing about her sharing is that she's a zealot about it. "No, Mommy." She unwrapped the roll and stood on her tip toes to try to reach my mouth. "I'm sharing. Dis is yours. You ead it."

As I started to protest again, she shoved it in my mouth. "Dere!" she squealed. "I shared!"

"Thank you, baby," I said, slowly chewing.

She watched my face carefully and then her expression changed. I could see her mentally figuring when her next tootsie roll offering would be and the knowledge that she had just given up the one that she could have saved, SHE COULD HAVE SAVED IT EVEN IF SHE DIDN'T WANT IT RIGHT THAT SECOND, begin to dawn upon her. Eyes intense, mouth turned down, she fiercely demanded, "I want dat back."

"Um, baby. You already gave it to me. I'm chewing it. See?" I opened my mouth to show her the partially masticated chocolate.

With no hesitation whatsoever, she said, "Well, you can just spit it in my mouf."

We're taking the emphasis off of sharing and working on 'boundaries.'

_____________________________________________________________

Virginia and I were listening to the local Christian radio station when they announced a contest. If they called your name or that of one of your children and you in turn called in, you would be entered for a contest to fly to an orphanage in Haiti to help serve for a week. I tried to keep her from getting her hopes up. "We have unusual names, sweety. Me, you, Harmony, Devon...none are very common."

She kept her hopes up until one day we were driving and they called another Madison or Ryley or Harper. "Mom! They're never gonna call us!"

"I'm sorry, hon. I guess it's just not meant to be."

"Can we just adopt an orphan from Haiti?"

"We really can't afford that right now, Virginia."

As with most children, Virginia hears that on a regular basis and thinks we're full of doo doo. This time, however, she had caught me in a bald faced lie. She skewered me with her gaze and said, "Mom. They're orphans. They're free."

Innocence and Wisdom

Tonight, Chris and I were watching The Taking of Pelham 123 when Harmony ambled in and crawled into my lap. It was an intense scene and I was distracted. Two armed robbers run into the middle of a busy New York street and as cars crash and police vehicles surround them, the robbers open fire, only to be killed during the return fire. It was at that moment that I belatedly realized I had a sleepy three year old in my lap, eyes riveted to the screen. I was mortified and when she turned to me, blue eyes wide and startled, I felt even worse. "I'm sorry, baby."

Thugs, gun toting ones, with prison tats, piercings, murderous eyes and hard faces and this is what she had to say:

"Mommy! Doze men shoulda been holdin' hands so dey didn't get run ober by da cars!"

Forever learning from my kids.

Only in Arkansas, #287

"We had a teacher in high school who had narcolepsy," Chris says.

"Mmm hmm," I grunted.

"He was also the driver's ed instructor."

I can't begin to make this shit up.

Bitten

I have been begging Chris to take me to see New Moon. My mom bought us movie tickets for Christmas and he agreed that he might take me based on how he felt about Twilight.

We just watched it. He sat in contemplative silence, absorbing the love story, the thrill of the rogue vampires, the humor throughout.

When it was over, I turned to him and asked him if we could now go see New Moon.

"I really don't have any interest," was his reply.

Virginia and I were shocked. As he was leaving the room, we asked in unison, "You didn't like it? Really?"

He turned, eyes bugging out. "THEY. FUCKING. SPARKLED."

It's cheaper for the smaller popcorn, anyway.