I've Got You

So a terrible thing happened. I can't really talk about it because it's not my story to tell but suffice it to say, it was awful. This "thing" required my attention, intervention and management. I was thrown into something that I had no idea how to handle and I was scared and overwhelmed. I really didn't think I'd be able to get ahold of it at all. But Jeff was there. He was there and he was calm. He knew what to do and how to do it. He took control of the situation and soon therafter, everything and everyone fell in line. He wasn't upset, he wasn't yelling and he wasn't mean. He assessed the situation, determined what needed to be done and then he did it. I am forever grateful. 

At one point in the night, after things had settled a bit, I was starting to fall asleep but I knew I had to stay awake to be sure everything was ok. He and I were sitting there together, at 2:30 am, trying to process and trying to stay on guard. He'd had two hours of sleep in the previous 48 hours so I knew he had to be tired. I told him he could go to bed but he refused. He said that I needed to go to bed and that he would keep watch. He said, "I've got this. You get some rest." And he sat there. In the dark. Exhausted but vigilant. And I've never felt so loved and cared for in all my life. 

When you know, you know

Here's the thing about Jeff. I’m completely thrown by him, which never happens to me. We knew each other in college and he asked me out numerous times. I always said no. The last time I turned him down he asked another girl out, then married her. For 25 years. And two kids. Here’s the really weird part. Coming back together with him now, it feels like coming home. We just “fit” together. We can talk for hours and hours and never run out of things to say. It's like my soul recognizes something in his soul that I’ve never really felt before. It feels like he knew it back then (in college) but I didn’t. And now that I feel it, I feel guilty that I didn’t/couldn’t recognize it back then. He loved me for all of those years. Thought of me, tried to find me, dreamed of me. And I thought of him too. When I’m with him I feel safe, loved and adored. When he looks into my eyes it’s like he’s looking into my soul. He reads my thoughts and knows what I’m thinking, even when I try to hide it. He’s smart and well spoken. He anticipates my needs. He is well rounded. He's worked as a firefighter for 18 years and has his life together. He’s a great dad and is very supportive of and involved with his kids. 

He’s kind of dorky too, in a sweet way. Eagle scout, chess club, non-sporty. He’s loving and supportive. Caring and helpful. He came over the other night and I told him I was making tacos. He immediately said he would stop at the store and pick up anything I needed. He showed up with everything I asked for AND a dozen roses! Such a simple thing but it made me swoon.

It’s the strangest feeling - like I’ve finally found this thing I’ve been looking for all my life. This closeness, this soul connection, this knowing feeling. My head is spinning. It's exciting and terrifying and absolutely wonderful.

Pain

And then there are the days that really hurt. Deeply. It feels physical though I realize it can't possibly be. It's like an ache, a phantom pain. Like you're missing an appendage that's no longer there. Why is it so complicated to be in a relationship? Why does it hurt so bad when they end?

When you're the one who gets dumped it feels doubly painful. You begin to question everything about yourself to try to determine why you were so easily left behind. I wasn't good enough. I wasn't pretty enough. I wasn't smart enough. I wasn't enough. On my good days I can recognize that I wasn't enough for that particular person, but that I will be enough for someone in the future. On my bad days, not so much. 

You start to question your decision making, your feelings, your understanding - all of it. You wonder if you read things wrong or if you were ever on the same page. Mostly, you wonder if any of it was really real.   

The hard part with all of this is that it takes time. It takes time to heal and recover from a break up. You have to make it through the first few days without them, then the first weekend without them, then the rest of your life without them. 

You put things in place to help ease your suffering - drinks with friends, a movie night with your kids, a party at your sister's house - but you're never really sure how it will go. You could be having the time of your life one minute, without a care in the world but then it all comes crashing back in. The pain, the regret, the ache. Or, you could be lucky and have a great night that helps you forget, even if it's just for a little while. 

Either way I know I'll survive. It will be tough for a while and then, one day, miraculously, it won't be so tough. The next day will be even easier. And, over time, I will begin to remember that I am strong, lovable and worthy and that love will surely find me again. 

Return to Self

I attended an online, guided meditation today because, you know, any port in a storm, right? I've done meditations like it before but this one felt different. This one calmed me in a way that I haven't been calmed in a very long time. After all the breathing and visualization she asked us to rub our hands together to create warmth and then to place our hands over our hearts. I felt so connected to myself. She talked about how we need to send and receive love to all things and I really felt that. 

My sister has been going through a tough time. I can't offer details but it's just a really bad time for her - fear, anger, pain and suspicion. We sit and talk a lot lately. I offer support - she offers support - we support each other. But there is a much wider support network than just the two of us. Our nuclear family, our extended family, our friends and our community are all tied together in such a way that won't allow either of us to fall. Sometimes the support comes from an unlikely source, other times it comes from those you know you can always count on. And that's no accident. 

I was raised to believe that family and community were very important in every day life and I now know it to be true. It's amazing how it works - very organic and seemingly without much effort. I strive to be kind to the people I encounter in my life. (Some would say I'm too kind but that's a topic for another blog...) It doesn't take a lot of extra effort, sometimes none at all. But the rewards are astounding. A nice smile, a kind gesture or a warm hug all go a long way towards improving someone's day. If I can make one person's day better then that's one happier person in the world. Imagine if we all did that, every day! 

Listen, I could easily be a beast about the bad thing happening to me right now or the horrible mess my sister is living through but I think I'll choose not to. I think I'll choose love, compassion and forgiveness. (On my good days anyway 😉). I want to believe that everyone is doing the best they can with what they've been given. People are sometimes mean, cruel, manipulative and deceitful but I think it's because of battles raging inside them. It rarely has anything to do with me. There is no need for me to pass judgement on them because they're being far harsher to themselves than I could ever be. 

That being said, anyone who chooses to mess with my sister is messing with me and my whole clan. We are powerful, determined, smart and brave and we will protect her always. A smart person would understand that and "stand down" - knowing the war cannot be won. Unfortunately that's not the kind of person we're dealing with...

Small World or Space Mountain?

Have you ever been betrayed so deeply that you're not even sure what hit you? So blindsided by someone's actions that you're stunned you didn't see it coming? It's been a long time since that happened to me, but it just did.  

I was lied to. I was mislead. I was promised a future and it was ripped away. He fooled us all - my family, my kids, even his kids. He told me he loved me, talked about what our future would look like, sent me photos of engagement rings, said I was his "twin flame". He encouraged me to trust him. To open up to him. To believe that what we had was real. Then he left me for his ex-girlfriend. 

I am stunned. My family is stunned. None of us can believe it but I assure you it's true. It's a level of deception that is so shocking to me. He tried to spin it in a way that implied I misunderstood his intentions. He tried to tell me that my life was "too much" for him and that he didn't see how it could work. He chose the safe and easy route because that's all he's capable of. He walked away from something that could have been wonderful, loving and amazing. He was afraid to try for something next level because there was no guarantee it would work. He couldn't understand that it was a once in a lifetime opportunity that was worth the risk.

So what now? Do I wish him pain? Sadness? Regret? In my weaker moments, yes. In my calmer moments I feel sad for him. He may not regret it now but he will at some point. He will regret giving up on us. He will always wonder what could have been. 

As for me, I will survive. I will share my love with someone who is worthy and good. Someone who is trustworthy and brave. Someone who knows that a deeper level of love is not only possible but attainable. Someone who isn't afraid to believe in me and everything that I am. 

He will spend his life on the "Small World" ride instead of "Space Mountain". "Small World" is calm, simple and slow, but if you stay on it long enough, it will drive you crazy.  For some people, that's enough. 

I Fell Off My Shoes. Again.

I’m clumsy. Incredibly clumsy. I’ve struggled with it my whole life - not quite sure why. Quit dance class before I got the basics down? Maybe. I’ve tripped over a cinder block while wearing a skirt (first date), I’ve fallen out of my shoes during the high school graduation procession (sorry Todd) and I’ve fallen off my shoes during a dash to the door in a rainstorm (Another first date. Different guy.) It’s not that I walk around running into walls or anything I just, often, find myself losing my footing and taking a tumble. 

There was an incident in the summer of '93. It was summertime and I was out celebrating life with friends (I was drunk) and I decided to leap off the railroad tracks down onto the grassy slope below. What I didn’t know, and wouldn’t realize until I made contact, was that there was a railroad tie hidden in the grass. I nearly made it but, when it came time to stick the landing, all was lost. My foot hit the edge of the railroad tie and my ankle rolled 90 degrees to the side. The pain was instantaneous and the regret immediate. Alcohol, miracle elixer that it is, prevented the real pain from making itself known at that moment but it would come.

The next morning I woke to a throbbing, screaming pain in my ankle that would not be ignored. I looked down at my ankle (left ankle - that might be important later) and saw it had swollen to the size of a small melon. It was pretty gross. Sobbing hysterically I crawled into my Mom’s room for assistance. Went to the ER and numerous visits after that while wearing a walking cast. As a direct result of that fall my ankle has never been the same. Ever. The injury is what brought about my "I will never ice skate again" declaration.

I digress. Back to the fall from yesterday. Zoe is horrified yet laughing hysterically. I’m pretty horrified too, but decidely not laughing. Thank God the alarm wasn’t activated in that Jeep. If it had been turned on the thing would have started screaming in my ears while I tried to get back in my car. Zoe and I had gone out for sushi and as we headed for the car, I made a miscalculation in stepping off the curb. My ankle (right one this time - Yay!) gave way. I felt my other (useless) ankle give as well and I could feel myself going down. But. There was a beautiful, new, champagne colored Jeep parked next to my car. My hand shot out, instinctively, and smacked the hood of the Jeep, scrambling for purchase. I bounced off the Jeep then spun into the side of my car, grabbing the side mirror for balance. While I’m sure it only took 3 seconds, it felt like everything was happening in slow motion and that the entire population of the Busch’s parking lot was witnessing the fall. The minute it happened I knew it would be bad. You know how you can just feel something like that?  I struggled to get into the car as did Zoe, but she struggled more because she couldn’t stop laughing (nice, right?)… I told her we needed to get home before my foot swelled up so much that we couldn’t get the shoe off (not my first rodeo). I will pay for this tomorrow.

I remember a friend once told me that my self-proclaimed clumsiness was not, in fact, actual clumsiness. She said my frequent falls indicated that I was athletic, not clumsy and that I wasn’t afraid to move my body about which is why I fell a lot. I don’t know about that. If the US gymnastics team was as “athletic” as me there would be piles of them laying on the gymnasium floor in bandages. It would look like a MASH unit or that one scene in Gone With the Wind. The point is that my well-intentioned friend (Hi Kate!) loved me enough to tell me lies. The end.

I'm not mad, just disappointed

I was laying in bed at 10:30 am on a Sunday morning when Max (my 19 year old son) walked into my room. I rolled over to look at him through sleepy eyes (I was out late the night before), only to focus in and see he was looking at me with …. Is that disdain? Arms crossed, looking down at me, he said, “Are you going to stay in bed ALL day? You go out galavanting around town every night, you don’t get home until 3:00am and you didn’t even have the decency to call and let me know where you were? The kitchen was a mess so I cleaned it - you’re welcome - and I had to put away all the laundry as well. The dog sure wasn’t going to let herself out so I had to take care of that too. The kittens kept us up all night and I got no sleep at all because I was worrying about you.”

What. Is. Happening.

I’ve recently re-entered the dating game. Sort of. Really just kind of dipping a toe in if I’m being totally honest. But yes, I was out late and no, I didn’t call. To be fair, both kids are able to track me by my cell phone location and they knew who I was with but I agree I should have called.

Still. It’s pretty funny. Seeing him standing there looking all exasperated and mad. Just like I’ve done with him a millions times before....

Chip Clips

It's summertiiime and the chip clips are miiissing...

It's summertime. The kids are home all day. The dishes are piling up. The rest of the house is trashed. The cats are looking skittish and I can't find the dog food (40 lb bag I bought yesterday). I shop for groceries every day to feed the hordes of teenagers that roam through each night. The kids come and go all. day. long. Wet bathing suits are strewn about the house and there isn't a dry beach towel to be found. The front door never really closes and someone set up a tent in the yard - 3 weeks ago. I have no idea how many kids are actually living here but, if the rapid rate of toilet paper usage is any indication, there's a lot.

And then there's the issue of the chip clips.

I spend a lot of time, each day looking for chip clips. My search is always more frantic in the summer because the humidity makes chips go stale within like 30 seconds of opening the bag. Yet the kids leave the bags, unopened, all over the house. On my daily travels throughout the house I'm destined to find at least one open bag laying around somewhere. So I dutifully pick up said bag and walk to the kitchen for a chip clip. I begin the search. It does not go well. I cannot find a single chip clip anywhere in the kitchen or pantry. How is that possible? I buy them at yard sales, the dollar store and sometimes even the office supply store. I stash them everywhere preparing for some sort of chip clip apocalypse but, when the time comes, they're gone. Just GONE. So then I begin to scavenge for a pony tail holder or even a super sturdy paperclip. Nothing. I go to my office where I keep all the office supplies but all I can find are the tiniest clips that can only hold one piece of paper. (Why do they even make those?) Screw it. They’re all gone and I’m tired. I head back to the kitchen and do the "roll and tuck" method on each bag. Roll ‘em up, tuck ‘em close together and hope it holds. Fall cannot come soon enough.

When these kids head off to start their lives (or at least back to school) I will have an entire drawer dedicated only to chip clips. I swear, I will never go chip clip (less) again!

Family Vacation

We just got back from a week at the beach. I went on this vacation with the following crew: My mom, my sister, her husband and their three boys, my other sister (her beau stayed a few days) and her two kids (one with boyfriend who came along as well) and my kids. Sounds insane, right? Yeah, it kinda was. But in a good way.

We rented three cabins on the beach in South Haven and the location could not have been better. Cute cabins, giant deck, right on the beach. It was the best kind of vacation - the kind where there is no schedule, no agenda, no plan. Each day started with coffee on the deck which eventually led to breakfast, then groups would begin to migrate to the beach. Kids would wander back up, famished, around lunchtime and sandwiches were thrown together. Dinner would usually be discussed late in the day and a volunteer would head to Meijer for supplies.

We sat on the beach, listening to the water, talking, laughing, watching the kids play, with our toes in the sand. The kids were exhausted each night. The true, complete exhaustion you feel only after a full day of water, sand and sunshine. When night came we played euchre on the deck then transitioned to a bonfire on the beach. Complete with singing.

Euchre crew killin' it. 

Before you choke on the sweetness of it all (I'm sure the singing put you near, if not over the edge) let me explain. My Dad came from a very musical family and shared that history and love of music with us girls while we were growing up. He would sing and play the guitar and we would all sing along. Around campfires, at church and at home. When we were very little he would sit in the hall outside our bedrooms and sing us to sleep. It's very special to us and it's a tradition we work hard to continue. Truth be told, I don't actually work that hard. Kelly taught herself to play the ukelele and practices all the time - I just hold the songbook for her and turn the pages. Anyway, the kids love it. You might think they wouldn't but they do. Each day they asked if we would sing and have a bonfire that night.

And also, we rented a jet ski. Everyone was SO excited! We rented it for two hours and had the time all mapped out with who would ride it when. Really not sure what I was thinking when I agreed to give my daughter and neice a ride. I've ridden jet skis before, though, in hindsight I may not have actually driven one. You see, I'm not what you'd call a water person. At all. Not sure why this didn't occur to me when it came my turn to ride.  My sister, her husband and my son had already taken their turns on it when they handed it over to me - racing, jumping waves, having a ball! They brought it in to about 3 ft of water so I could climb on from the back. No problem. Life vest in place, kill switch tether attached. My neice on board.

I barely touched the throttle and found it to be very responsive. A little too responsive, if you want to know the truth. And here's the problem with jet skis. They're completely counterintuitive. When you feel like it's getting out of control or a wave is coming at you the wrong way your instinct is to let go of the throttle but you're SUPPOSED to slam it down and maneuver away. The other problem is that when you let go of the throttle the whole thing gets incredibly tippy and sinks. I mean, not completely, but enough to make a non-water person like myself panic. When you try to take off again it's like you're on a submarine with all the stupid water coming at you. Let's also add to the equation that the water was spraying in my face like a damn firehose so I had to take off my prescription sunglasses and I really couldn't see much. At one point I remember yelling, "Can you see any boats or swimmers around here? I can't see anything. Tell me if I'm going to hit something." Seriously should NOT have been driving it.

But then. Then. It got worse. I fell off. Not just fell off, was thrown from the crazy thing! Took my niece with me too. Came up sputtering, choking and panicked. Looked around and saw the jet ski. Check. Saw my niece. Check. Then I thought about how deep the water was and what was beneath me and I lost it. I wildly, frantically clawed my way back to the machine where my niece was patiently waiting. I was practically hysterical in my attempt to get back up. If I could have stood on her head for quicker boarding, I'd have done it. I'm not proud but it's true. I needed to get out of that water. Quickly.

So you'd think, that when it came time to give my daughter her ride I would've turned over the reins to my sister or her husband but I didn't. Took my daughter and got thrown from the stupid thing AGAIN. But this time I was far more tired. Pulling myself onto the machine felt like pulling myself out of a deep vat of mud. It suddenly occurred to me that I may not be able to get back up. That I may require some sort of Coast Guard rescue (Do they do that for terrible jet skis drivers? What a waste of taxpayer money) and that this could take awhile. My lovely daughter would have none of my defeatist attitude and cheered me on (and pushed my butt a little too) until I was back up on the machine. We immediately returned it to the rental guy. Machine must've been defective or something.....

The second "incident" involved Mom. She and I were sitting in the sun and decided to go in the lake for a quick swim to cool off.  I should note there was a yellow flag flying on the beach but, here's the thing, we didn't pay much attention to the flags. When the red flag was flying you weren't supposed to swim due to the undertow and high waves but those were the days the kids liked best! So red days - don't swim. Yellow days - swim carefully. Green days - all good. Back to the story, it was a yellow day. I headed into the water first and found it to be cold but refreshing. I was a few feet from the shore, maybe about up to my mid-thigh. Mom was just entering the water. Then everything went into slow motion. You know how that is?

Mom started to lean to the left a bit, then a bit more, then she was down. I started to move towards her and glanced up to see my sister on the beach - laughing, reaching for her phone - and then a wave CRASHED right on top of Mom. I mean BOOM. No escape. She came up sputtering and looking like a drowned puppy. I reached for her - still laughing - then a man from the shore came in to help too. I was laughing, Mom was laughing and this poor guy was struggling to save her. We were laughing so damn hard we could barely stand. Sister, on shore,  still snapping photos. Mom had a death grip on this guy - would NOT let go of him until she was safely on shore. The photos are hillarious. I look like hell but I'm not even mad. Totally worth it.

So, in conclusion, the vacation was hillarious, emotional, messy, loud, frustrating, happy, enlightening and real. Wouldn't trade it for the world.

Teenage Angst Gone Too Far

Something is very, very wrong. My 14 year old daughter is crying hysterically. I don't know what's happening. She's glued to her phone. I can't tell what's happening. She's not telling me. I need to know what's going on. And then she tells me.  

She was "going out" with this boy for about three weeks. If you're not well versed in teenage vernacular, "going out" means snap chatting, texting and maybe seeing each other downtown, after school, at the Dairy Queen. Three weeks. I really need to emphasize the length of the relationship because it's important. 

She then decided she didn't want to "go out" with him anymore and told him that. To his face. Kindly. Like a good human being. And here's what he did in return.

He threatened to kill himself. You think I'm kidding? You think I'm exaggerating? I'm not. He, straight up, said he would kill himself if she left him. He said he would jump off the bridge to end his life. My mind is reeling. Who does that? Can you even do that? What is happening here?  

He was relentlessly "snap chatting" her about how sad he was and how he wanted to end his life. He sent her photos of himself on a very high bridge. He kept begging her to change her mind because he couldn't live without her. 

Then, to make matters FAR worse, he (four hours later) made out with one of her "friends" in a basement somewhere. Emotional whiplash anyone? Yeah, me too. 

Can we talk about this? Can we break this down? I'm extremely concerned, more so because this isn't the first time this has happened. Other break ups have left us with boys claiming they will harm themselves too.

What's going on here? Why are these boys doing this? Are there situations where such emotional terrorism/blackmail achieves the goal of getting the girl to stay? I can barely form words. These kids are 14 years old.  Where did they learn that this was a healthy way to deal with things?  Why can't my daughter see the wrongness of this? Why can't she see that this boy is somehow emotionally impaired or unstable and that it's not about her?

She is worried he will harm himself and everyone will blame her. I've told her that her only duty is to be kind to him and to be honest. I told her she should tell me if she believes his threat is real and I will notify his parents and/or the authorities. What do I tell her beyond that? What do I tell her in this day and age when young people (children) are dying of suicide at an alarming rate? How do I help her navigate this nightmare?  

But wait. It gets worse. Her friend group then turned on her. The boy she broke up with is relatively new to the school system and the area. Her friends didn't really know him that well. But. When he was upset, crying and threatening suicide, they took his side. They were angry that my daughter would make him so sad. Did you hear that? That she would make him sad. NONE OF US HAS POWER LIKE THAT, LEAST OF ALL A 14 YEAR OLD GIRL. But her friends felt bad for him. So bad, in fact, that they chose to cast her out of the group because she made a conscious choice to end a relationship that wasn't working for her. She didn't text him to end it. She wasn't rude to him. She just didn't want to be with him anymore and was honest about that. 

She was also deeply hurt that this "friend" of hers would kiss this boy just a few hours later. That makes sense to me. Am I crazy? I would be VERY upset if a boy, claiming to love me more than life itself, turned his attention to a willing participant who used to be a friend of mine, only hours later in a dark basement. What message does this send? First, the boy is lying. He doesn't like my daughter all that much or he wouldn't have done that. So she can just go ahead and start to doubt herself and her decision to trust him. Second, why would her friend willingly (and so quickly) jump into that abyss? Does she have no self respect at all? He's crying over another girl and you rush in to kiss him hoping to start a relationship with him? Really? REALLY?? That's the kind of dude you want? And that's the kind of story you want? Ew. 

This terrifies me for the future. Why would they do that? Why would they blame her for making a healthy choice? Why wouldn't they support the decision of their friend? Where are we headed and how do we get off this ride?

You Can't Push Someone Up a Ladder

I'm tired. All the time. And no, it's not an autoimmune disorder or bad sleep hygiene. It's that I never actually rest my eyes and my body, both at the same time, for a full night. And do you want to know why? Teenagers. More specifically, my teenager.

I'm like a firefighter, or what I think a firefighter is like, at night. My clothes and shoes are always nearby. I've got my phone on the bedside stand - fully charged and ready with the ringer on. I am able to leap from bed at a moment's notice and handle whatever situation comes my way. Well, most of the time.

The usual situation is talking to police officers at my door at all hours.  They come to my house so frequently now that we're on a first name basis. I'm even getting to know the State Troopers so I guess that's a bonus? Two visits ago the police officer said he really felt bad for me asked if he could give me a hug. Of course I agreed because a) he's very nice, b) he's cute and c) I was happy to know someone was on my side. Bullet proof vests aren't very snuggly though so it wasn't as comforting as I hoped it would be.

The last visit was on a Sunday morning at 4:00am. My son crept into my room and whispered "The police are at the door. Here's your robe. I didn't do anything bad, he just had to bring me home." Because this is my life now. I stumbled out of bed, clutching my robe, rubbing my eyes and sat down at the table to see what was going on. Let's see, this time, my son had been picked up at a local park with two (older) girls who were drinking. He had not been drinking. (No, I'm not your typical idiot parent that trusts her kid. They did a breathalizer on him, that's how I know)  Anyway, the officer had to drive him home because my son was not supposed to be driving after 10:00 pm. The only up side was that the officer confiscated the hard lemonade from the girls and brought it to my house. I enjoy hard lemonade. So...silver lining?

I've had the police at my house when my son and his buddies destroyed a mailbox (my aunt and uncle's), when my son ran away, when my son's friend was in trouble, etc. I really could go on and on but I'm just too tired. Suffice it to say that they don't have to ask for my name or birthdate anymore. Timesaver!!!

There are days when I just don't know what else to do with this kid. Many, many days. On those days I usually throw in the towel, give up and beg a family member to keep him for "just one night" so I can get some rest. I don't know what the future holds. I don't know if he'll be ok or if he'll continue to spiral out of control. I hope that, one day, he'll figure it all out and get on the right path. But on days like today, I have to remember that I'm only human, that I'm doing this alone, that I have another kid to worry about and that I have to put my own oxygen mask on before I can save anyone else. 

I Want To Be Sedated

I don't want to be sedated forever, just until my kids aren't teenagers anymore. You hear the stories, see the movies and read the books about teenagers and the difficulties involved in raising them. But I'm not sure you can ever be fully prepared for it. Especially if you end up with a challenging teenager. Which I have. #luckyme

The problem with teenagers is that they're actually insane. Quite literally. Their brains don't function in normal, predictable patterns that make sense to anyone but themselves. And sometimes I don't think they make sense even to THEM.  Which of course makes it difficult for those of us operating outside their minds to understand what the F is going on.

The trouble is that they walk among us and, therefore, we are foreced to deal with them. Some of us must actually live with them, day in and day out, and that is no small thing. It's like living with a toddler again - temper tantrums over the silliest little things. 

Arguments I've actually had in the last few weeks are as follows: 

• "No. You cannot go out with your friends in my brand new car that I just picked up TODAY." (He seriously asked if he could. This after he totalled his own car - that he hasn't even paid off yet - the weekend before). 

•  "Leaving the house at 3:00 am to play Pokemon Go is unacceptable. Any normal human being you might poll will agree with this. It does not make me a horrible person for demanding that you be in the house, in bed, at 3:00 am. Really."

• "No. You may not walk to town (2 miles away) at 11:00 pm. There are no sidewalks and it is DARK outside. A car will hit you. No, it doesn't change my answer if you offer to ride your bike to town instead."

•  "Please stop "play" fighting with the dog. It makes her bitey and it makes me mad. I have asked you a million times not to do it and yet you continue. When you're done playing with her, I go to pet her and she bites me. When the dog hides from you it's her telling you she doesn't want to play anymore. Stop it."

• "If you are supposed to be at work at 7:00 am you should be there at 7:00 am. Calling in at 9:00 am to tell them you're too tired to work is unacceptable. You will get fired. When you say you're going to be there you have to be there. That's how life works. That's how you keep a job."

Raising a teenager is exhausting - physically, emotionally, spiritually and in all other ways. Plus, I never feel like I'm doing it right and I won't have any true feedback for about 10 years. I need a pay increase....

Bone Face

Of all the things I ever considered, this was never one of them. Truly. Did not occur to me even once. So here's what happened:

What's funny about this photo is that it looks like Hazel's happily holding a bone in her mouth. Not true. It's actually STUCK there. REALLY stuck. I didn't know what was happening at first. She jumped off the bed and was acting really weird. She seemed to be clawing at her face but I couldn't figure out why. I got out of bed to get a closer look and saw the bone. I tried to loosen it and get it off but she wasn't having it. She was fighting to get away from me and doing everything in her power to make that happen.

As a general rule I tend to be pretty good in emergency situations. But I've learned that mostly applies to people now that I really think about it. Animals are a totally different well, animal. They just don't understand that you're trying to help them and it freaks them out even more as you're forcing yourself on them to "help". She was running away from me as I chased her all through the house. Another fun fact - when there is a bone stuck in a dog's mouth, there will be lots of drool. Lots. Gushing amounts of drool. Disgusting.

Zoe was in bed and awoke to me screaming "Quick! Google "How to cut through bone". What the shit? No one should wake up to that request ever, it's just not healthy. On any level. The only thing she could find was that you should smack it with a meat cleaver. So I yelled, "Refine the search!! Check on "How to cut through a bone stuck on a dog's jaw!"

We weren't getting anywhere. I told Zoe to hold Hazel while I tried again to get the bone off. It was impossible but Zoe gave it her all. Hazel was scratching and twisting, shoving her legs around and making it generally impossible to get a firm hold on her. At this point I noticed that Hazel was starting to pant heavily - much like Zoe and I after the wrestling match - so I decided we needed to call the vet.

After a number of mix-ups (went to the wrong place and waited there 20 minutes for a vet who had no idea we were even there) we ended up at a 24 hour emergency vet's office. Since it was, by this time, about 11:30 pm, the doors were locked and we had to be buzzed in. The tech that came to greet us looked at Hazel - who was now happily wagging her tail, excited to meet a new friend - and with a questioning look said, "Can I help you?" Because it actually looked like nothing was wrong with her.

I just gestured to the dog and said "She has a bone stuck on her face." The tech looked a little closer and said, "Oh! I guess she does!"  Meanwhile, real emergencies (pets injured and dying) were coming in and Zoe and I had to stand there like idiots telling everyone, "Yup. Got a bone stuck on her face."

They ended up having to sedate her to remove the bone which, just so you know, costs about $164.00.  I'm not blaming the vet's office. They provided a great service and saved the (stupid) dog. I'm mostly blaming the stupid dog. Most expensive dog bone ever.

You'll Shoot Your Eye Out

I tried. I really tried to make it through Christmas vacation as the "fun mom", the "wonderful hostess" and the "grateful guest." Two out of three ain't bad...

It's a lot of togetherness when you stop to think about it. The kids have all been in school pretty full time since September and that's been just fine. We got into a schedule, a rhythm, if you will.  Then we get to Christmas and it's suddenly two weeks of total togetherness. Full immersion. No escape.

Christmas is fun and New Year's Eve is fun. Plus you've got some cool parties sprinkled in there for flavor but let's be honest, when you get to that final Sunday evening, when you know they'll be headed back to school, you're relieved. All of you. You're absolutely at the limit of what you can take.

We'd been to a party that Sunday night (that I wasn't so hot to go to in the first place) and had been on the road a lot during the day. The party provided a lovely dinner but when we got home the kids asked "What's for dinner?" Seriously? You JUST ATE. So I started to scrounge around to see what we had. The fridge was a mess. Weird holiday leftovers, no milk and certainly nothing that could be considered dinner (egg nog anyone?). But I pulled a MacGyver and got it done. It wasn't pretty, probably wasn't even good, but they were fed.

I told the kids I was excited because Downton Abbey was going to be on for the first episode of the series. They KNOW how much I love that show. Still. Max insisted on coming into my room and annoying me about every 15 minutes throughout the entire show. When he wasn't entering my room, he was teasing his sister or making the dog bark like crazy. Then Zoe would come in to complain about him, interrupting my show. I. Was. Done.

And then it happened.

He was screwing around and shooting rubber bands and Nerf darts at the dog who was laying on the bed with me. She was getting agitated and so was I. I told him to knock it off. I mean it. Knock if off. But he didn't. He shot one last dart and it hit me square in the eye. Everything went into slow motion. He gasped, Zoe cried out, the dog barked and I grabbed my eye and started crying. I mean really crying. I fell off the bed, still holding my eye, and said "We might need to call 911."

Ok. To clarify. Did I overreact? Yes, Of COURSE I did. I'm not an idiot. I get it. But the tears were not all related to the dart in the eye. Obviously. I mean it hurt and all but I was DONE and this was the last straw. I could not hold it together and just openly sobbed. Max was going crazy. He ran to the bathroom to get a cool cloth for my eye, brought it to me and said, "Mom, are you ok? I'm so sorry! Use this cloth on your eye, it will help."

I probably should have responded better to his concern, you know encouraged him and used it as a teachable moment. Instead.

"SEE?" I shouted. "See what happens when you don't listen? People GET HURT."

He shrank away from me.

Listen, I know when I'm being the "Dragon Mom". The mom with the crazy, scary voice reserved only for the most serious offenses. And this was it. Full on. All of the stress I had felt leading up to the holidays, making sure everything was done and everything was magical was being unleashed on my kid. It's a lot of pressure handling everything and everyone was counting on me to make it perfect. Right down to gifts for the dog's stocking. Aside from all that, my eye did actually hurt and I thought, at least for a moment, that I had a corneal abrasion.

But I did not have a corneal abrasion. The next night we had a planned rubber band gun/Nerf gun war in the house but I wore ski goggles to avoid another incident. At one point, Zoe and I pinned Max down and were shooting him repeatedly. Sometimes it's good to get your aggression out but hitting him with the actual gun was probably going too far. Way to be - Zoe. 

Seventh Grade Camp

This was the year Zoe attended 7th grade camp. She begged me to go along as a chaperone for the week - how sweet is that? - so I agreed. BEST TIME EVER.

I really wasn't sure how it would go. Would I be cool enough? Fun enough? Could I keep order with all the girls in my cabin? Could I survive any girl drama that might pop up? I shouldn't have worried at all.

The chaperones got to the camp before the kids so we had time to look around and get our bags unpacked. Most importantly, adults got first choice of bunk. Critical decision. Lower bunk, closest to the bathroom? Yes please. I was one of the lucky ones and was assigned to one of the "lodges". That translates to heat and A/C (sort of), bathrooms and showers IN the lodge and close proximity to all activities. Other were not so lucky and ended up in the "Wilderness" cabins. Translation - smells like mold, might have bats and you have to walk to the bathrooms.

We were given our assigned kids almost as soon as they arrived. They were all seated in the outdoor amphitheater and the chaperones were all waiting at the back. They read off the kids names and then they came back to meet us. I don't mean to brag but I truly got a WONDERFUL group of girls. I knew some of them or had at least heard of them through Zoe so they weren't a complete surprise. Still, it was interesting to get to know each one of them and tricky to learn all their names. They were confused about what they should call me - Mrs. Nowak (uh, NO), Zoe's mom, Ms. Arnold?  Instead they settled on calling me "Mom". I was honored and thrilled. Though later, when I would get separated from them and they would all scream "MOM" (at the top of their lungs) I was kind of rethinking that choice. I would then run around, usually in the dark, swooping them up like a bunch of lost lambs.

They had to haul all of their luggage to our cabin and, unfortunately, a few of the girls (or maybe their moms?) overpacked. By a lot. It took some doing to drag it all there but once we got it there we were able to settle in and get to know each other. I had one of the larger groups - 11 girls - so we had a good time talking, laughing and sharing.

Each group of girls traveled with a group of boys which made up our "travel group". We did all of our activities together and also shared all of our meals so I had to learn all the boys names too. Definite challenge for my name recollection skills! I tried to come up with rhymes for their names, "Boisterous Becca" and "Mindful Michael" to name a few.

We did cool things - horseback riding, underground railroad reenactment, nature classes, canoeing - but the coolest thing really was watching these kids grow, learn and interact with each other. At every meal, each table was supposed to have one adult, four girls and four boys. Hard to manage at first but then everyone started to fall in line. I was a fanatic about manners at my table (Zoe was horrified) and gently guided them into understanding how to be polite and how to share. The change from the first day to the last was ASTOUNDING.

At each meal I came up with questions to ask the table. What was the best gift you ever got? What was the best gift you ever gave? Do you have pets? Do you have siblings? What's the coolest thing you did over the summer? Tell the table something they may not know about you? Do you have any special talents? What is your biggest pet peeve? Who is your best friend? What do you like to do?

The rule was that everyone who wanted to share was given a chance to answer the question. The other rule was that everyone at the table had to listen to that answer. Yes, I quizzed them. I would say, "Michael, did you hear what Katie said?" If he didn't, I would have her repeat it. I thought I was annoying them but, by the end of the week, the boys were rushing to sit at my table and saying, "Aren't you going to ask your questions?"

On one of the final days we were scheduled to participate in the Predator/Prey game. Apparently I misunderstood the instructions and thought the game was for the KIDS only. So I showed up in my cute sandals and flowy pants only to be told that I would be part of the turkey flock, made up of my girls. Oh dear. I'm still picking burrs out of those pants....

So here's the thing. The camp was, obviously, for the kids. But I gained so much. It was one of the most wonderful experiences of my adult life. To be given a view inside the minds of 7th grade kids. To hear about their thoughts and fears, to see them interact with each other, to laugh with them. It was a GIFT.

Each night I would try to settle the girls in - not an easy task as you can imagine - and then I would spray each of their pillows with "sleep spray" (lavender and vanilla pillow spray). Once they were all in their beds I would read aloud to them. I brought this crazy old book with me that I hadn't looked at in years.  It was a story about an eccentric pig who falls in love with a statue of a dolphin and they LOVED it. They all lay quietly each night, waiting to hear what happened next. We didn't get a chance to finish the story and I still get girls who come up to me to ask what happened at the end!!

The thing about kids at this age is this - they are absolute sponges. They soak up praise (and negativity) as if it were water. For instance, I had one kid who told me she was lazy. I said,

"Huh. That's weird. I haven't seen you be lazy at all. Why would you say you're lazy?"

She replied, "That's what my mom tells me."

Her mom told her that and she believed it. I had numerous instances of similar conversations throughout the week. Every time I heard something like that I would reply with something positive in the hopes of replacing a negative thought . Kids at this age, though they pretend they don't need you and pretend they're not listening, take in every word you say. Positive, negative or otherwise.

The teachers and administrators at Zoe's school totally get that. They have made a careful study of this age group and they have perfected the proper way to guide these young folks through the rocky road that is middle school. I was thrilled when Max attended the school and thrilled that Zoe is there now. They are amazing people who are REALLY good at what they do and I can't thank them enough for allowing me to go to camp!

MOM, I Think I Need Stitches!!!

It's every working Mom's worst fear. You're at work, doing your thing, earning a living to support your family when the call comes in.

Me: "Hello?"

Zoe: (muffled crying) "Mom!! (more muffled sounds - was that Max?) Mom! I think I need stitches."

Me: Blood runs cold.  "ZOE! What's wrong? What happened? Are you ok?"

Zoe: "I'm really bleeding! It's a deep cut! (crying) It really hurts! I need stitches!"

 

Me: Panic ensues. "Zoe! Talk to me! Where's Max? Put Max on the phone!"

Max: "Hi Mom. (Voice goes sheepish) It's not as bad as it sounds, she's ok. She probably does need stitches though."

Of course, prior to the phone call, Max had desperately tried to get a hold of the situation. "You're ok Zoe. Here, I'll put pressure on it. It's not that bad. DON'T CALL MOM."

Me: "Max, I'm going to call Aunt Susie, Aunt Kelly or Grandpa to get over there to assess the situation. Send me a photo. NOW."

I got on the phone and got Sue. Near hysterics I explained the situation and she packed up the boys and headed over. 

Then I got this: 

Ok. She's not going to die. That's good. Still, it looks pretty deep. May need stitches.

Meanwhile, Sue arrived on the scene. Can I say, once again, Thank God for my AMAZING family? What would I do without them? Who would I call to do these things? Sue didn't even question me at all, just said, "I'm getting in the car now. I'll call when I get there."  She called and explained that it wasn't too bad. The bleeding had stopped and she was applying a bandage. "Does she need stitches?" I asked. She wasn't sure but was leaning towards yes.

During this time I got Max on the phone again and got an explanation of what had happened. Zoe was in the shower and Max thought it would be funny to pour cold water on her over the top of the shower curtain. True enough. Classic prank. BUT. He used a glass bowl, which promptly slipped from his grasp, fell to the shower floor and smashed into a million pieces. One of the shards hit Zoe's foot and cut it open. This was the look on my face:

Plus, I liked that bowl. Dammit. I got home and transported Zoe to Urgent Care. At that point, Max was feeling pretty bad about it all. When we got in the room, the nurses set out the "stitch kit" and Zoe started crying. That's when Max lost it. They actually made him leave the room for the stitching because they thought he might pass out. I stayed. Obviously. Even though I'm not clinical and the sight of stitches makes my stomach hurt. 

All's well that ends well. A day in the life, folks, a day in the life. 

Kentucky Trip - Pretty long post. Get a cup of coffee.

The kids and I recently went to Kentucky for a vacation. Specifically to Cave City, Kentucky. Cave City is a somewhat defunct place with lots of old roadside attractions. Many have closed down and fallen into disrepair. As a child, my family and I visited the Mammoth Cave area and I have very fond memories of it so I wanted my kids to have the same experience.

It was the first real (more than 3 hours from home) trip I've taken with the kids since the divorce and I was kind of nervous. I just wasn't sure how it would work out - me being the only adult and all. I told Aunt Sharon (my guide for all concerns around being a single mother) about my fears and she talked me down.

Sharon: "What are you afraid of?"

Me: "What if the car breaks down? What if my credit card gets shut off? What if I lose one of the
          kids in the cave?"

Sharon: "Then you ask for help and someone will provide it."

Me: "It can't be that simple. I'll be frantic and afraid."

Sharon: "If you saw a mom in trouble, saw that she needed help, would you step up and help?"

Me: "Of course I would."

Sharon: "There you have it. There are people like that all over the world. Take the trip."

And so I did. Were there moments when it was hard being the only adult? Yes. Was I afraid some of the time? Yes. But I did it anyway and it was GREAT.

We made it our mission to visit the tackiest, cheesiest and hoakiest roadside attractions we could find. Zoe had her heart set on visiting the wildlife zoo. Sounded good to me until I looked more closely. It was a TAXIDERMY zoo. Are you kidding me? ALL. IN. When we first walked in, the attendant was painting her nails. She seemed pretty surprised to see us and actually said, "Can I help you?"  I smiled and said "Three tickets to the zoo please" and she about fell off her chair. I think she was more prepared to give us directions to the nearest cave as opposed to actually showing us the zoo.  We joked and laughed our way through the place, commenting on all of the broken down, musty and moth eaten animals that have likely been there since the 1960's.

Look out kids! Wild Deer!! Oh....wait...

The other attraction Zoe insisted on seeing was Dinosaur World. Truly, a classic roadside attraction from yesteryear. Some guy decided to create a bunch of dinosaurs in his backyard and ask people to pay to come and see them. We were happy to hand over the admission fee. Once inside we began to roam the acreage to see all of the dinosaurs. They were HUGE and there were lots of them. Whole vignettes were set up of dinosaurs eating, hunting and protecting their young. We noticed pretty early on that the colors of the dinosaurs were a little suspect. Like purple spots and orange stripes kind of suspect. Then Max noticed the names weren't quite right. And when I say not quite right, I mean completely made up. The creator basically put a name/word before "saurus" and called it a dinosaur. Like Beckysaurus (wife's name?) Loved it.

Max looking highly skeptical about the existence

of this dinosaur. The Maxosaurus.

Zoe also really wanted to go ziplining. This had been of particular concern to me since she initially mentioned it in the early planning stages of the trip. I decided I was going to be fearless and free and try everything the kids wanted me to try. But I was concerned. My weight has held me back from many things (that's a topic for another blog) and I was worried I wouldn't be allowed to do it based on my size. Zoe and I went to the zip line park to check it out. We got in line and, before I knew it, I was buying tickets to not only zip line but to ride some crazy ass sled (luge?) down the side of the mountain. The line was long but, when it was my turn, I leaned in to the window and asked the lady, as quietly as possible, "I'm a little on the chubby side. Is that going to be a problem?" She stood up and looked out the window - gave me the up and down once over and said, "you'll be fine."

I was so relieved. We walked into the store and they immediately began getting us into harnesses and helmets. I was horrified. This cute 20 something guy was trying to wrangle my uncooperative body into a too small harness. I kept apologizing and wiggling, trying to help with the process but we were both pretty sweaty by the time it was done. Zoe and I took the chair lift up the mountain and prepared for our descent. It's pretty damn scary, I have to tell you, when you're hanging from a wire about to be sent down the side of a mountain with only a harness between you and certain death. To say the safety regulations in Kentucky are a little loose would be putting it mildly. Nonetheless, when they pushed me, I soared. Zoe and I were on side by side lines so we could see each other all the way down. All was well and right with the world. I was flying! My baby girl was laughing beside me! The wind in my face and the forest below!

You're supposed to be looking at the guy at the landing station to see what signals he's giving you before you come in. I looked up to see the tiniest little 20 something dude ever preparing to "catch me". Seriously? They pick this guy for me? He was frantically signalling me to hit the brakes which I was frantically trying to do. It worked a little but I was still coming in pretty fast. I had visions of me hitting him like a bowling ball hits a bowling pin. Seeing him fly through the air - ass over apple cart - saying "Whhhhhhhyyyyyy". But it didn't happen. He actually caught me. I thanked him profusely, legs shaking as I exited the platform.

Zoe coming in like a BOSS. Probably helped

that the CUTE 20 something was waiting

to catch her.

We went back into the store to remove our gear. I was all set to unhook everything and step out of it but that wasn't to be. Another 20 something boy grabbed my harness and started tugging. (Are there no women in the zip lining business anywhere, for God's sake!!) So he started pulling the harness down but I could feel my pants going down right along with it. Moments away from full exposure I grabbed hold of the harness and started pulling up - against him. He looked at me in total confusion and we both stopped pulling. I leaned in closer to him and said, "It seems as if I'm having a problem removing the harness. Perhaps you have a more private area where I could resolve the issue?" He blinked twice. "Uh, ok. Sure. You can go in there." I followed his direction into the next room where I promptly dropped the harness along with my pants. Thankful for no witnesses, I pulled my pants up and strolled out of the room, handing the kid my harness.

We also ended up at a pretty odd haunted house which Zoe, wisely, refused to enter. She told me, "Those guys are sketchy A.F."  I wish I had been as smart. It is purported to be the oldest haunted house in the country. It was very scary but more in the sense that we could be in real danger of falling through the floor as opposed to "ha ha, that's scary when something jumps out at you" kind of scary. I had my eyes closed through most of it. Still, a total delight in the way of old roadside attractions.

I later found out that there's a whole thing happening with the place (www.funtownmountain.com) which had been abandoned for years. I guess a young entrepreneur bought the place and was going to revitalize it. Never happened. Too bad. Sad to see it in such disrepair. Cave City in general appears to be dying but it really is a place that should be saved. It's a piece of history that will soon be lost completely if something doesn't happen. It's silly and touristy and straight out of my childhood memories. And probably yours too. Maybe you should plan a visit down there. I think you can still rent a wigwam to stay in. And when you walk into the old country store you'll get the same greeting that everyone else gets.

Store owner: "Where you from?"

Me: "Michigan"

Store owner: "That's all right, you can come in anyway."