gene

well. it's been almost a week since the teenager moved. the last few days before the move were tough- PLENTY of emotions on both sides.

the big spawn had a few friends over to say goodbye one night- he really did have a group of GOOD kids that he associated with. i'll miss having a house full of kids arguing over whose GPA is the highest and who speaks the most languages before they go nerd out on zelda.

the next night he went to a party some friends from school threw for him- that one was harder since it was a last minute "hey, i'm going to this." one of a few final defiant moves of "i'm already losing everything, what are you going to do?" no permission asked, just deciding on his own. add that to the HUGE stack of dishes from going on strike, the mess leftover in his room, just all the little things that added up and made the transition somewhat easier.

so much frustration, hurt, anger, relief, everything rolled into one. sunday came and went in a brief not even 10 minute window of loading things into the car and gone.

i stood there watching him load his dads car and drive off and it just...hurt.

hurt isn't a big enough word (i'll come back to this in another post).

i am SO eternally grateful for friends checking in, taking me out for a spa day, being sounding boards, providing distractions.

the small spawn and i are adjusting to a different home atmosphere now.  the small spawn chatters CONSTANTLY now. i'm not sure if it's because he's trying to fill the silence or if it's because he feels like he's not being shut down every time he talks, but either way it's hilarious (and slightly overwhelming) to listen to him go on and on and on for 20-30 minutes NON-STOP.

now. if you know me, you know that my way of dealing with particular shitty-shit in my life is to add the inside feelings to the outside skin via tattoo.

and so, i would like to introduce gene:

gene is the sweetest bad ass mofo you'll ever see.  he's a reminder that no matter how beat up, no matter how broken hearted, you keep going.

it's been a rough few years. i've taken my share of hard knocks. there's been more than once i wanted to quit- whatever that meant. but there's always kids that need food, bills that need paid, a dog that needs out to pee, SOMETHING. i've wanted to quit, but i've never actually given myself that actual option to quit. many times i felt like a little robot- shut off the emotions, shove them deep down, just keep going. just. keep. going.

that's gene.

take a hit, keep going, and try your damndest to come back swinging.

i never...

i never thought i'd be the parent that called the police on my own child.

i never thought i'd have bruises from my own child.

i never thought a lot of things.

i DID think a lot of things though too.

i thought raising a teenager would be hard. i didn't know it would tear me apart piece by piece.

i thought i knew how to handle grief and loss. now i realize i have no clue.

i thought i would always know what to do for my kids and how to help them.

now i realize how foolish that was.

i don't know. i don't know how to fix either of them. and at this point they both need so much.

there is so much damage to be undone.

there is so much hurt and anger for all of us to work through.

i'm having such a hard time with everything right now.

on days like saturday when a police officer is in the front yard talking to my son and another is in the house talking to me i just want the move to be over and done so we don't have to keep waking up to this toxicity. i'm tired of being on edge waiting for the next explosion.

then days like yesterday when everyone is getting along and things seem fine i question the whole decision.

then days like today when both boys can do nothing but argue over every. trivial. insignificant. inconsequential thing i just want to scream and leave them both and move to the middle of no where all on my own.

i feel so much guilt and anxiety right now.

i'm not being a good friend to anyone right now because i'm hiding and avoiding everyone. i know i'll be distracted until all the dust settles.

i also know i have ZERO patience right now for anyone else. the slightest things leave me itching for a brutal knock down drag out fight. i know i'm just transferring my anger and frustration onto (not completely) innocent bystanders. so i've been biting my tongue and hiding to avoid causalities of war.

i'm not being a good mom because i'm on edge and completely worn out (fast food ALL WEEK. disgusting.) the house is a mess. the sink is full of dishes. the laundry is stacking up. all i can do is sit and stare at nothing. i don't want to help with homework or tell jokes. i don't want to pack lunches. it's all i can do to get out of bed and make sure there's still a paycheck at the end of the week.

i'm not being anything besides this shell of what used to be me.

i knew it would be hard.

but i never knew it would be this hard.

the weekend is a day away and i'm terrified to have a repeat of the last one. weeks are fine between school and work and limited hours together. weekends are a different story.

and i have no idea what to do about monday- there's no school and i can't leave the boys home alone at all anymore. and i can't keep letting this distract me from work or there won't be a work to be distracted from.

amd i'm trying not to think about things i can't control.

i can't control what it will be like for my son on the other side of the state. he's going to live with a parent who doesn't know how to be a parent. i know they will make it work, but i'm worried about how hard it will be for them while it's falling in line.

i can't control that other people still maintain contact with my mother and her husband. i won't have any say over my son being exposed to (or protected from) a pedophile.

i can't control how they will get along or the challenges they'll face.

i can't control how my son will feel when he leaves and whether or not he'll ever want to talk to me after he leaves.

i can't control how much anger he's feeling and how much hate he has towards me.

i can't control losing my sidekick, the kid who has been through EVERYTHING with me. he graduated high school and college with me. he's moved every time i have. he's been through marriage and divorce with me. we've visited countless doctors and principals offices together.

i never thought my life would feel this hopeless but hopeful at the same time.

you're not alone

well, it's barely before the deadline (ok, technically after as of now), but here it is, for your birthday:

i grew up in a small town. the type of town where when you look back through your grade school class photos you recognize the same morphing faces year after year because there was a good chance you shared the same teacher with the same kids SEVERAL times.

it probably looked like a pretty average household on the surface. 3 bedroom house in town. no blatantly dark clouds or horror stories connected to our family. church on sunday and wednesday. parents both worked and weren't known as the town drunk, or anything like that. our family didn't have any superstars- i did manage to make the usual appearances in the school news paper when it came time for honor roll. we watched TGIF on fridays and made a once a month trip to the "big city" for necessities before walmart came to town.

i was never a popular kid by ANY stretch of the imagination. didn't attend one party through all of high school. i didn't have a lot of friends. or any, really, for that matter. i had people- drama club people, cheer team people, youth group people. but not really friends. no one that i hung out with outside those activities. no one that i spent hours on the phone with or anyone whose house i would have considered a second home.

beneath the surface- it wasn't great. i was lonely ALL the time. it's pretty sad when some of the only memories i have as a kid are of making a special place in my closet to read my favorite books (yes, i was literally IN THE CLOSET as a kid). school was rough- being on the lower end of middle class with a mom who didn't pay any attention to...well...anything made for some awkward moments. i had ZERO fashion sense and a body that took full advantage of every possible quirk you could- high water pants, frizzy hair, thick rimmed glasses. i was an embarrassment to my brother, had a mom that basically didn't know i existed until my brother graduated high school (she literally told me once she had no idea i had a sense of humor until after he moved out).

I PROMISE, this isn't a total emo post, i'm getting to a point.

POINT: (see, i told you it was coming). GROWING UP SUCKED. from the social stuff to the pretty horrible stuff that was happening at home behind the scene and below the surface. high school was particularly heinous from getting suspended from school my freshman year (after having someone threaten to kill me in front of a teacher who walked away) to being pregnant my senior year.

i was sad. i was angry. i was hurt. i was alone.

and for the longest time i really truly thought i was the only one.

not the only one that had it rough. i mean- i know it's shitty all over to various degrees and all that bullshit.

I GET IT.

but i really thought my set of problems was unique. no one could really ever understand what i went through.

and i graduated.

and i grew up.

and through the wonder of social media i reconnected with a fellow survivor of my little high school.

this gal and i had ONE bond that i knew of. and it wasn't so much a bond as a shared timeline.

we were both "the pregnant girl" in our senior class. AT THE SAME TIME.

almost quite literally the same time. she managed to pop out her little critter a few weeks before graduation, mine came a few weeks after.

so.

there was that.

meh.
 
we had spend high school as what i could consider fringe friends- you know...on the outside of related people's circles. in a venn diagram she would be the yellow circle, i would be the blue circle, and we had a few people that shared the green zone.

in case that was too complex, here's a visual.

but then we started talking.

we both knew what it was like to be the pregnant one in a small high school.

we both managed to graduate high school.

we both went on graduate college with Bachelors Degrees.

we both married and divorced (and remarried- her) and added an extra kid (me) or two (her) along the way.

we even shared the same tragic ear piercing story.

and it kept on going- 

all the horrible behind the scenes stuff that went on growing up? she survived way too many of the same experiences. hell, even our first time sex stories are eerily similar.

we both spent a lot of time feeling alone and hurt and scared.

and here we are. both moms. both older. both wiser.

and we're facing the same battles again.

we're both battling through difficult teenagers that are breaking our hearts. we're both faced with making a choice neither of us wants to make but we know we have to.

and in the middle of this REALLY, REALLY shitty time, i'm reminded of the basic simple fact: i'm not alone.

and i'm not turning cartwheels watching another mom struggle, trust, i'm really NOT turning cartwheels. that would be dangerous and horrible for all involved.

but i AM being reminded that i'm not the only one.

and when you're feeling particularly singled out by the universe.

and when you're EXHAUSTED.

and when you're broken.

and when you're not sure how the fuck you're going to wake up and make it through another day of sludge and battle and when you can't see the other side of the swamp of sadness and your horse has already disappeared...

you can't give up! you have to try! ARTAX! PLEASE!

it's nice to not be alone. even if it's in a shitty spot. ESPECIALLY if it's in a shitty spot.

it's nice to know there's someone that ACTUALLY understands and isn't just trying to say the polite or nice thing. it's nice to know there's someone that gets that you can't just smile and make it better. it's nice to know you're not being picked on and singled out. and it's nice to have someone to cheer on and that's cheering you on right back.

and as you watch each other slowly take one step at a time it's nice to see that steps can still be taken.

and it's nice to see that as much as we have in common, we've both done things very differently and ended up in the same spot, so IT'S NOT ME. i didn't do any ONE THING that caused this change to happen. it's not something she or i did- forgetting a fruit snack one day, not letting them have that certain pair of shorts at the store, taking or not taking them to church, public school vs home school. some kids are just hard. i can't beat myself up for things i did or didn't do.

AND THIS IS MY MESSAGE TO HER: YOU CAN'T EITHER.

we've both battled. we've both done the best we know how. we've both given our kids the best parenting we could. we've both had structure and rules. we've both tried our damndest to raise GOOD kids. and they are. we have both raised two brilliant boys that are amazing kids (when they choose to be). WE HAVEN'T FAILED. we've just hit one helluva mother fucking road block. and we're both going to find a way around it. and it will suck. 98% sure of that.

BUT: you're not alone. and i'm not alone. ALWAYS REMEMBER THAT.

so. on your birthday. please know that you are AMAZING. and you've come so fucking far. look at all the statistics of things we shouldn't have done.

according to all those statistics:
we weren't supposed to graduate high school once we got pregnant.
we weren't supposed to graduate college as a teen mom.
we weren't supposed to be able to leave an abusive marriage.
we weren't supposed to have successful careers.

and we sure as fuck weren't supposed to do ALL of those things.

and here we are. you and me. long lost twins.

i'm not giving up.

on you.

on me.

on our kids.

YOU ARE AMAZING. you are strong. you are a fighter.

this year will be hard. i wish like hell i had a magical candle for your birthday cake that you could just blow out and make it all better.

but instead i give you this: YOU'RE NOT ALONE.

happy birthday. i wish you strength and gentleness, courage and peace, belief in yourself and love for yourself. i wish for you tireless endurance and knowledge it will turn out alright, even when it seems nothing is right. i wish you unity as a family, even when some of your pieces aren't within arms reach.



oh yeah. and i wish you a costco cart of kleenex and chocolate too. that probably should have been at the start of the list of wishes, just in case the genie spaced out part way through.

MASH UP

as with every year, i want to WRITE MORE.

this year, i'm taking a different tact. this will be the first (of hopefully many) post that will simply be a mash up of all the notes i make to myself, random sentences, vague half baked ideas, misc thoughts that never get full attention, all of it. just getting it out.

some of these may develop into full ideas/posts later, but for now at least it's something besides a scribbled note on my phone or stuffed in the bottom of my purse or lost on a random envelope back in a stack of misc crap that gets sorted a hundred times but never goes anywhere beyond that.

and so. here it is. the first mash up of 2014:

: from the darkest corners come the softest souls. those who have stood at the gates of hell and soldiered their way back among the living recognize each other from the marks left by the journey. we recognize the quiet look of need, the strengthened spine of endurance and the careful walk if unsure footing. we recognize the smile shifting between true and brave, the touch of shared sorrow and hear the earnest offer to share struggle.

our legion is numberless, or pains familiar but different. we possess the wisdom no one searches for, the stories no one wants to write.


 : I feel like the majority of my adult/parenting life has been about unfucking/trying to sort out all the shit that was my childhood. i spend an inordinate amount of time and effort NOT being my mother. I never want my kids to feel like their birth was an accident and a burden and the cause of a horrible life event. I never want them to feel like i HAD to do something (like getting married) because I was unable to care for them. I don't want them to feel unwanted to like an anchor or a grudging duty. but now I'm worried that I'm creating a whole new set of things for them that they'll spend their adult lives and parent lives unfucking and trying not to do to their kids. is this the perpetual state of being? does anyone actually like how they were raised and are they managing to create healthy small people that will actually like how they were raised too


: while I fully understand that shows like scandal are written and created for tv, I also understand the the idea and possibility behind the show is very real and probable. I also am coming to understand that I should not watch such show's because it makes me think and start to ask too many question. questions I will never be able to ask. questions, that either have no answer, or (I honestly believe) have a truth buried so deep I don't want to begin to pull the thread. 

I chose, very consciously, three years ago to not ask questions. when you know there will be no answer, sometimes it is better instead to focus on simply saying THAT SUCKS and move forward.

: "She inhaled the scent of peppermint tea- the aroma stirring a faint memory from childhood that stayed in shadow, just beyond grasp."

: "...and with a dramatic sigh that sounded much more serious than anything actually happening at this juncture in life."

: AND FINALLY- one of my first poems that was in a box of stuff my mum recently emotionally bombed me with.  98% sure this is stolen from somewhere, but i still love that at 6 i was writing about suicidal peanuts (subtext is everything)

a peanut sat upon the tracks

it's heart was all a flutter

until the train came round the bend...

choo choo...peanut butter.

and then?

a friend showed me a book her daughter got for christmas: it's a stack of cards with the beginning of a story that leaves off at a turning point with "...and then..."

that's what life feels like lately.

it's been a hard few years.

really hard.

now granted, i take full responsibility for most of the hard stuff- i made the choice to leave work (several jobs actually) and i've always struggled with keeping a balanced budget (easy on paper, not as much in practice). i made the choice to buy and work on a house which we all know hasn't been the best choice of all time. i've made the choice to stay single. i've made so many choices.

this weekend i made another choice.

and i'm really struggling with it.

it's been a hard few years.

in addition to everything else that's been going on, i've been dealing with escalating tension at home with the teenager. i know teenagers are hard, but i had no idea it would be like this.

i don't have what i think is a "normal" teenager. i have a kid who is wicked smart, has always acted more like an adult than a kid, who has always fought to express himself and stand up for himself.

it's not bad things. within reason. but it's not great either.

it's gotten bad.

there's constant arguments. there's been holes put into walls (okay, just one, but still). there's screaming and stomping out. there's slamming doors. i know. it's not that far out of the realm of teenage angst, but it's been increasingly viscous and increasingly dangerous.

it's been talking a hard toll on me, a hard toll on the younger spawn, and i can't believe the teenager has been exactly happy either.

the hard part is that there's been this disconnect- he's GREAT at school. he's getting good grades, his teachers love him, he's respectful, helpful, a model student. he's in debate, he tutors other kids, he has a GOOD group of friends.

then he comes home.

and it's ALL different.

it's constantly bullying and tearing down his little brother. it's being disrespectful and horrible to me. it's refusing to help around the house. it's emotional and physical warfare. it's a constant battle zone. it's vicious, mean, angry, hurtful. if he doesn't get his way, EVERYONE will know about it and be punished in some way.

simple things like shoving his brother for no reason other than being in reaching distance. telling me he hates seeing the same people every day and he's sick of family when asked to do the dishes. telling me i'm stupid for rearranging furniture. it's hitting his little brother for getting something out of the fridge (he's too fat, he doesn't need more food). getting caught in a lie and telling me i need to "just deal with it."

it's been escalating over the last year. it's dangerous. more than once i've had 911 dialed because i honestly thought he was going to come at me.

so i talked to his dad a few weeks ago and asked about switching houses to see if that would help calm things down.

and we decided it would be the best course of action.

so in 4 weeks my teenager will be leaving my home to live with his father.

and i don't know where i'm at with this.

i know it will be better for everyone. it will calm things here. it will make it better for my small spawn. it will make it better for me. i hope it will make it better for the teenager.

but my son is leaving.

and i know it was going to happen in a few years for college.

and i know i'm not a failure as a parent.

and i know it's not permanent and if it doesn't work he can come home. and there's summer break and long weekends and it's not that far away really.

but.

my son is leaving.

and i worry that he thinks i don't love him or i'm punishing him or giving up. and i worry that the little spawn worries i'll send him away if he becomes challenging. and i worry that it won't be better at his dads house but i won't be able to help (there will still be phone and email, but you know...HELP, right there in the moment).

and i'm heartbroken that i couldn't make this better. i couldn't be a good enough mom to make him not hate living here or not be so angry all the time.

and i worry that i didn't do enough. i didn't try enough things. i didn't research enough to find more solutions. i didn't MOM enough.

and i know that there's a reason there's supposed to be TWO parents. i know that it takes a village to raise kids because one person doesn't have all the answers.

but it still sucks.

it sucks that he's hurt and angry and i couldn't fix it.

it sucks that i'm losing one more part of my core.  there's not much left.

and i'm scared. and i'm sad. and i'm angry. and i'm hopeful. and i don't know.

i'm at this turning point in the story. and i'm waiting to see what happens.

so.

2014: "...and then?"

plausible deniability

while i fully understand that shows like Scandal are written and created for tv, i also understand the the idea and possibility behind those shows are very real and probable. i also am coming to understand that i should not watch such shows because it makes me think and start to ask too many question. questions i will never be able to actually ask. questions, that either have no answer, or (i honestly believe to be possible) have a truth buried so deep i don't want to begin to pull the thread. 

three years ago when my dad died, i chose, very consciously, not ask questions. when you know there will be no answer, sometimes it is better instead to focus on simply saying THAT SUCKS and move forward.

 

the bitch of it is though, not asking the questions doesn't make them go away.

 

i knew then it wasn't the time to ask questions. there was an immediate gag order on the case. any public comment was to come only from state level. we were not to talk to reporters or anyone about anything. it was decided before i even arrived on scene, hell, before i even knew there was a fire, that all communication would go through my brother- you know- cops understand cops and all that. there were immediate investigations launched. no one had any answers to give. so i waited patiently.

after a year, the gag order was lifted, but there were still no answers. i wouldn't have known who to ask specifically anyway. so i just took the little i was told and closed the door.

i've seen what happens when people become fixated on answers they'll never get. i've seen people waste away their lives and drive themselves crazy digging in the past forever.

i've also seen people who still had a life to live that just found their bootstraps, pulled up and moved forward.

i had kids. i had work. i had life. i chose the second path.

but then there's nights like tonight.

watching a silly tv show about political scandals. a fake show. created in the mind of a writer.

but i can't help but realize- it's possible. you know? scandals. cover ups. stories with no real answer or ending.

and i start to think of all the questions again.

if there was a recorded 911 call, how could they tell me everyone in the house died before they knew what was happening?

if they had to bring in cadaver dogs to find any remains and do bone marrow samples from jaw bones to confirm identity, how could they tell me an autopsy showed no carbon in the lungs (and therefore no suffering)?

how could a 30 year old male, a brand new trooper who just graduated top of his class physically, not make it out?

how could the same agency, the same team leader that sorted through the tons of wreckage at the oklahoma city bombing to find a specific device and cause for a grand scale tragedy, not be able to sort through a small two story house to find an answer?

how did a fire that burned so hot and so fast manage to destroy a full two story house, every single beam, every single piece, not leaving anything but the cement foundation but not destroy two trees less than 10 feet from the house, the grass, or the garage? how could that fire melt the front axle of a car completely to the ground but leave the trunk (and the golf clubs in it) completely untouched?

of all the gangs in the area, the cartel branches, the street gangs, the wanna bes- not ONE has ever had a rumbling of claiming responsibility. they pulled every head, every boss in a room and nothing. the greatest loss in the history of the state patrol and not one of them wants their name associated with it.

the other trooper had spent an extended amount of time on duty in the governors mansion as a guard/soldier just before becoming and officer. do i even want to start down that rabbit trail?

was it simply the finger of god?

every question leads to 3 more questions. i could drive myself insane chasing rabbit trails that only exist in my head.

i'm honestly ok not knowing.

at the end of the day, even if i had all the answers for every question i could ever think of, it wouldn't bring my dad back. it wouldn't put he and anne at the table for thanksgiving. it wouldn't give christopher the chance at a career and a family and everything he missed out on.

so why ask?

instead i'll just stick with: IT SUCKS. 

but tomorrow there's work. and kids. and life. tomorrow is forward.

so forward i go. putting the questions back away. not being distracted or pulled backwards.

well, not for more than a few minutes anyway.

mile marker 203

another year, another car.

about this time last year i was trading in bonnie for eve and a plane ticket to london.

well, here it is a year later, and eve has now been replaced by betty.

eve, top, she had a good run. betty, bottom, welcome to the family.

no, there was nothing wrong with eve, but she just...wasn't right. i don't see myself as a hatchback station wagon mom. plus, there were issues with the title from the day i bought her AND it took several days to even decide on a name for her. that should have been the first clue.

BUT, for better or worse, eve is the car that made it possible for me to get to london and back for the fairy tale adventure. i owe her a large debit of gratitude for that.

the spawns didn't (don't) understand why i traded in Eve: THERE WAS NOTHING WRONG WITH THE OTHER CAR MOM.

and granted, there wasn't. and yes, i traded down in some aspects- from a 2010 car to a 2000 car. i reasoned it all out and rationalized it- betty is a VW which is a more reliable/longer lasting car than eve, a dodge (even with higher repair costs figured in). betty also has fewer blind spots and will be better on gas mileage AND she isn't a hatch back station wagon soccer mom car. plus, betty has  heated seats. and a sun roof. i've always wanted a car with a sun roof.

SEE, I HAD GOOD REASONS.

saying goodbye to eve was shockingly easy. i never really did get attached to her. but i did get to thinking- what is it that makes me want to change cars so often? and why always in october?

i bought my very first car in october- a 1988 GOLD (we're talking mr. t would have loved it GOLD) chevy beretta. this was long before the days of naming things, so that car just was what it was.

that car lasted a few years until the big spawn arrived and two doors with flip bucket seats wasn't quite working. i can't remember when exactly it was, but i'm pretty sure it was fall-ish when i switched the beretta out for the saturn sl2 (that's the best they could do? sl2? blah).

i drove the saturn through college until it DIED back during the days of marriage. it was december-ish when i took over driving the truck (through the divorce proceedings) and april when i traded the truck for annie, the focus (and the first one to get a name).

annie lasted until bonnie, bonnie begat eve, and eve begat betty. that's the way the begat thing works, right? 

so, not ALL my cars are october babies, but an odd proportion of them are, particularly the last three in a row.

i'm not sure why i've taking to changing so often the last few years- maybe it's some deep seeded control issue- they've all been during/after a pretty sizeable change in life- bonnie was after my dad passed, eve was for london, and betty is after finally getting back to work.

maybe it's my fear of commitment to anything for an extended length of time- i mean, bonnie was BRAND NEW and would have lasted for years if i hadn't grown to sincerely dislike her and traded her in. 

maybe it's just that i had legit issues with the cars and, since they were paid for, could afford to change out (legit to me at least).

you can tell, for all my wondering i've put so much thought into this.

either way, eve is back in foster care until she finds a new home, and bonnie is now keeping my buns toasty warm on the commute to work (heated seats = awesome).