Sparks and Butterflies

I can honestly say I’ve never has the opportunity to write this before. I just got back from the shooting range with Poe.

I shot a Glock.

Huh.

I have a really intrinsic fear of guns. They have been held to my head. I’ve been literally physically forced to hold them. Now I’m afraid of them. Not a healthy fear that promotes safety, but but a flight response. Because Poe’s potential line of work will probably entail firearms coming home I have to get over this, learn the safety, and learn how to use them the right way.

It’s going to take time. But I stayed the whole time and didn’t run. I fired 10 rounds. And now that I’ve fired a 9mm Poe wants me to 22mm next time. He said it’ll be more comfortable for me, but wanted to start me bigger so I have a healthy respect for the weapon. When it was time for me to shoot again, I just looked at him and said I don’t want to. He didn’t force me. I actually cried the 1st 15 minutes we were in there.

My husband is such a patient man. He was even proud of me.

I’ve always wanted to post that (and mean it.)  We’re leaving for a camping/fishing trip early tomorrow morning.  A girls only Palm Springs trip is to directly follow.

And would be burglars?  My dad’s house/cat sitting.  He shoots first.  I wouldn’t test the voracity of that statement.

See you next week!

I don’t know if all moms are like me.  But I make lists.  Lots and lots of lists.

And right now I have a couple of clients heading out to NY next week, who have not yet given me credit card info for flights, another client to write for, swim lessons to sign up for, and a camping trip next week, followed the next day by a Palm Springs trip with some girls from high school.  Although “girls” seems like the wrong term since I’m 3 years away from my 20 year reunion.

I’ve made a lot of lists.

Lists of meetings and itineraries for clients.  Packing lists for camping.  Packing lists for Palm Springs.  Lists of what to buy.  Lists of what to do.  Not to mention reservations, directions, and how-to’s.  I had to google how to clean a fish.  Because my dad always did that part.  I also had to google how to percolate coffee.  I wasn’t old enough back then.

It’s quite possible that the lists are indeed keeping me sane.  Does that make me OCD?

Back in March, my birthday came and went without a lot of fanfare.  We don’t have money right now for celebrations.  That was fine.  I was disappointed by how I felt about this birthday, 35, anyway.  Halfway through my 30′s, on my way to 40, and I was disappointed in my life.  Completely starting over financially.  “Stuck” living by my parents to help them.   Still overweight.  Still smoking.  Poor.  An unemployed husband.  No savings.  A fledgling business.  I felt like I wasn’t where I was supposed to be.

But I’m working on all of those things.  Because when I turn 40 I want to be in a place that it’s just fabulous.

But I’ve learned a lot in my 35 years on earth.

I’ve learned that the gray in my hair doesn’t bother me in the least.  I’ve learned to stop caring what others think.  Sometimes I still have to remind myself of that, but it’s true.  I don’t particularly care what you think of me.  I’ve learned that I have really broad shoulders, and I can handle a lot of responsibility.  I’ve learned that I have an inner mama-bear and can be a true advocate for my kids’ needs.  I’ve learned that I’m a loyal wife, and a loyal friend.  I’ve learned that I’m not frivolous, I’m not silly, I’m serious.  And that’s okay, as long as you have balance.  My husband creates that balance in our lives.  I’ve learned what my politics are.  I’ve also learned when I need to turn off the flow of information.  I’ve learned when I need to ask for help (although it’s still a struggle for me.)  I’ve learned more about what my personal faith is and looks like (although I’m still struggling with it.)  I’ve learned to love through the not so lovable moments.  I’ve learned that I can love and care for my family, even if I don’t particularly like them at that moment.  I’m slowly learning to let things go that don’t matter in the long run.  I’ve even learned I have a knack for home decorating – not that I have the funds to indulge in it.  I’ve learned to stand up for myself.  I’ve learned that I scare people with my bluntness, but I’ve learned that I’m never mean.  I’ve learned to tell people when I think they’re going down the wrong path, but how to make a bad haircut something positive.  Yes, you look fat in that, but man do you look fabulous in this.  No, you shouldn’t live with him first, but I’ll give you a bachelorette party to remember.  I’ve learned when to have tact, and when the superficial tact will get in the way of what someone actually needs.

So, while I’m not where I want to be in life – I know I’m working on it.  And these last 35 years have not been a waste – I’ve learned something from them.  That’s really all I can ask.

My apologies to anyone who has a delicate constitution…  But this week has been a clusterfuck of epic proportions.

Let’s see, where to begin?

To give the week context, for this entire week I’ve been working with a new client.  I’ve been working with them for a while, but this week was the largest scale project I’ve done with them thus far.  I’ve got to get three men to two different cities on both coasts in the next two weeks.  Plus their 20 some odd meetings with Very Important People.  One man is in all of them, and it’s a crapshoot if the other two are in the meetings.  Which means I’m doing their travel arrangements, plus arranging the schedules of 23 individuals.  Can I do it?  Yes, I can.  It’s why I’m a damn great assistant.  However, it is time consuming and frustrating.  And today’s the last work day before the first trip – and I’ve been working on this all week.

ON TOP OF THAT, which I have to do GREAT so I don’t lose the client (remember my husband’s unemployed?) all of this happened this week alone.

My husband had major dental surgery.  For some genetic reasons, Poe had every single one of his teeth pulled.  At once.  And got dentures.  At the same time.  Of course I had to be there to drive him home, and then care for him after something so majorly traumatic.  And the surgery took triple the time they said it would, which means I was completely panicked.  He doesn’t respond well to anesthesia, and it was bloody and gory and full of really powerful medications.  Ultimately, the kids spent the night at my best friend’s so they wouldn’t have to witness it.  On a school night for one of them, which of course presents it’s own ramifications.  That was Monday.  It’s now Friday, and he’s doing much better, taking less of the medications, and seems to be healing well in his incisions.  His dentures still aren’t fitting quite right, so he goes back for another fitting today.  Which makes two in three days.  So he’s definitely not up to par as of yet, and eating is a significant challenge.  I continually ask him to say “sixty six” because I’m evil.  No not really, it’s because he needs to learn how to talk again.

Also this week?  A power outage.  Which means I had no router.  Which means I couldn’t access the internet.  Which means I couldn’t work during this big client project.  Luckily it only lasted a couple of hours.

And then?  My computer died.  Due to a Microsoft general update.  Luckily I was able to use a restore point to get it back.

And then? My iPhone started fritzing.  I fixed it (an app was apparently pissed off.)  Annoying, since that’s my connection to the outside work world when my computer doesn’t work (see above.)

Somewhere in here my oldest lost another tooth, and a visit from the tooth fairy was in order.  Thank goodness I didn’t screw that up too.

Also in there is a kid in his last full week of school with ants in his pants in the midst of a major allergy attack, plus a kid who’s out for summer vacation which makes working SO MUCH EASIER.  That was sarcasm.

And finally, yesterday…  My mom and dad came home from Las Vegas where they were taking my aunt to the doctor (or were until she canceled the appointment making the trip unnecessary but they were already there). And my mother came home, got her pertinent stuff with my and Poe’s help, and then she went back into the hospital.  God I’ve got a great husband.  This is the third time he’s carried her to the car for a trip to the hospital (my dad’s had back surgery.)  She’s bleeding again.  For no known reason, and they can’t find the source.  Again.  She’s still there.  They’re giving her a unit of blood as I write, and then she’ll be having another endoscopy.  Her 13th.  Because they’re sure they’ll find something this time.

And today, I can’t be at the hospital because I have to finish this client work.  Because I am responsible, and they’re counting on me, and so are my other clients.  And then Poe has another dentist appointment,  and I’ll have Joseph.  And then we have to go to an end of school picnic, because it’s important to Logan.  While I field random calls from my father about inconsequential things because my mom isn’t terribly coherent and he’s bored and scared all at the same time.

Provided nothing drastic happens in the meantime, we’re going camping a week from Tuesday, and then I have a girl’s weekend in Palm Springs with my best friend and some friends from high school.  I’m not sure when I’ve needed a vacation more.  And today?  I really really really need to not be asked for more of me.  I’m not sure how much I have left to give.  I’m on empty.

Today is another, new day. After a full night’s sleep, I’m not feeling as desperate. Things are still just as bad, but I’m not feeling as hopeless about it all.

My mother, last I heard, should be coming home today. Poe shall be having major dental surgery next week. Joseph finishes school this week. Logan is back at school with open house tomorrow. My clients’ work is getting accomplished. My to do list is just as long, but I’m not doing too well physically so I’m learning to say “that’s not getting done today.” I even said no to a volunteer thing for school.

While our life is still a shambles for the moment, I’m in a much better mental space.

It’s 5:15am.  I think I got to sleep around 3am.  My dad called us at 12:30am to help with my mother.  She doesn’t look good.  She’s in the hospital again.  I couldn’t sleep.

And now?  It has to be done.  Hopefully it will be cathartic.  BlogHer, my advertising network, sent me a rather gentle email basically saying I haven’t written in two weeks.  They have to do what they have to do as advertisers, and now I need to do whatever it is I need to do, because sometimes, everyone needs a break.  It was a very gentle reminder, but it did make me ask, “What’s keeping me from writing?”  Anger.  Resentment.  Rage.  Fear.  Disappointment.  Anxiety.  A nice little dash of desperation for flavor.  I’m pissed off at the world and just about everything in it.  So I’m just going to spew everything I’m upset with in list form.

Politics.  I’m pissed off.  But I’m not allowed to be pissed off without being labeled a right wing, secret militia, fringe right, obviously one of those Christian, racists.  With a gun, obviously.  Yes, I’m conservative.  Yes, I disagree with almost all the decisions our current president has made.  While I’m not a tea-party member per se, I do agree with many of the tenants they stand for.  Are some of them loony?  Absolutely.  There are some liberal loonies too, so I don’t quite understand why loonies on either side are any big deal.  It’s the law of averages.  I think it’s kind of sad when you fear voicing your opinion.  I’m pissed off that I don’t feel more brave.  On the other hand, I’ll make myself counted with my vote, so I’m not sure it matters.

Also?  I’m pissed at Logan.  Not at Logan himself, but the fact that his body decided to get a nasty cold.  Believe me it’s an inconvenient time, because someone needs to be here at home with him.  As an aside?  He was on some pretty heavy children’s cold medicine yesterday.  At lunch time, “Soup sick to make better feel?”  Then the knock-knock jokes started.  His getting high turns him into a comedic Yoda.

Joseph.  He’s done nothing but be Joseph.  He’s not doing badly.  But because he IS Joseph, and it’s the last week of school for him (BUT not Logan’s, because that would make things too EASY) I have to attend an IEP meeting today to plan the next school year.  At 9am.  On somewhere around 2 hours sleep.  While my unresponsive mother is in the hospital.  Alone, because Poe will be home with Logan.  Who’s sick.  Do you start to see the snowball?

Poe.  Why do I call him Poe?   I can’t remember.  Some privacy thing.  Now, Poe.  Poe is special.  12 years, I’ve loved this man.  And I’m about to spend my life retirement savings to fix his teeth.  Literally.  I just closed our 401Ks and IRAs.  I opened my first 401K with my first paycheck after high school.  Gone into his mouth.  Poof.  Of course he’s only getting 60%.  40% goes to taxes and penalties.  We now have gone through every single cent we ever had.  But he can’t interview without teeth.  And God knows, we’ve tried to fix them in the past to no avail.  He simply has bad teeth.

Unemployment SUCKS.  He’s unemployed.  Still.  And I was anticipating the unemployment check yesterday to deposit to buy groceries.  ‘Cause I am such a rebel.  But instead, it was another claim notice.  Because my freakin’ husband forgot to sign the effing form he just sent in.

And seriously, economy?  You suck.  Poe is a good man.  Poe is a smart man.  Poe is a hard working man who worked nights, went to school mornings, and took over the kids in the afternoons for two years to get a degree in the work he loved.  And now he can’t find a job.

My body.  We’ve been on a pretty stringent healthy diet, and working out pretty hard.  It’s been 3 weeks.  Pounds lost to date?  1.  1.  1!?

Period?  #suckit.

To recap:

Unemployed, still, going on 16 months.  Mother in middle of the night hospital run (still haven’t heard.)  Have to go to IEP on 2 hours sleep, alone.  Then Poe has a dental consult leaving me alone with sick kid, and clients!  We have no money.  Poe’s about to have dental surgery.  I’m pissed off at the world.  Oh, and I might be on my period.

Still here?

Finally, I’m mad at God.  Because seriously.  Last night, after my husband carried my mother to the car for my dad to drive her to the hospital…  Her joints frozen in place, unable to communicate, I got into bed.  I just asked point blank, “Where exactly did You want me to start?”  I’ve already asked what I’m supposed to be learning from all this.  I’ve already asked to be shown the lesson.  I haven’t found it yet.  Do i feel His presence?  No.  My brain says He’s walking with me, due to what I’ve read in scripture.  I don’t feel it.  Scripture says He hears our call.  I don’t feel it.  I don’t even feel like I’m being told to wait, or be patient, or wait on God’s timing.  Just…  Nothing.

We’re in this vast time of awfulness.  I read on another blog (which I don’t read regularly, and so in my addled state, I’m not going to go hunting for) that everyone has an annus horibus (which is Latin and I’m sure I totally butchered it since I’m not looking at her blog.)  Basically, every one has a year.  The one year everyone can look back, point to, and say That!  That was my no-good, horrible, very bad year.  We’re smack dab in the middle of ours, and I’m having trouble seeing anything but an oncoming train at the end of the tunnel.

My mom went into the hospital again last night.  She hadn’t eaten in two days and kept vomiting old blood.  The pain was finally bad enough that she willingly went.

They drained a ton of blood out.  She had an endoscopy today, and they found food.  Food that was two days old, and just wasn’t digesting.  She’s feeling much better, now that she’s been on a lot of pain medication and they took the stuff out.  She’s having an upper GI series tomorrow to see if they can pinpoint whether there’s a blockage, or she’s just not digesting for some reason.

I kept fighting myself to go to the hospital.  I REALLY did not want to go, but I should. I didn’t have a clue as to why I was so reluctant.  And right about the time I was ready to go, the school called.  Joseph was sick, and I had to pick him up.  Mother’s intuition?  I don’t know.

I’ve learned in my decade as a mother that each and every stage has it’s own challenges.  It never gets easier.  Certain aspects get easier, but the job of parenting doesn’t.  Each stage is a tradeoff.

Poe and I will not be having any more children.  He was – er – snipped.  We decided that two kids with special needs was enough, and maxed out our emotional and financial reserves.  For one child, it’s a toss up if he’ll be a self-sustaining adult.  For him, we still have years of therapy and medication and doctors appointments and IEP meetings to get through.  For the other child, survival is of paramount importance.  For him we have years left of surgery medications anesthesia and doctors appointments.  So, we made the decision to just stop.

So for each “ending” stage, we realize it’s the last.  Although every once in a while someone passes me a baby.  You know…  The kind that doesn’t quite have their own personality yet, and smells of baby powder.  The kind who’s so young, woofling into your neck and a steady hand holding up the bum is simple paradise to them.  That’s one stage that I do miss.  The stage where you make everything right for this tiny person by simply holding on.

There are a few stages, though, that I’ve said goodbye to with joy.

Diapers.  The changing, the tossing, the necessity to be constantly prepared.

Toilet training.  The accidents, extra clothes, negotiation and head scratching.

Toddler danger where they don’t quite yet get what’s bad and dangerous and are constantly giving you heart attacks as they decide to investigate the stove.  Or street.  Or beehive.  Or howthehelldidyougetupthere place.

I do miss kindergarten though.  It was school but not school.  They didn’t have all the pressures of grades and homework, but you see their mind just expand.  That was fun.

We’re currently in a stage that I detest.  The elementary school years, where their not quite on their own with schoolwork yet, like high school.  I hate being pressured to do homework.  I detest it.  I have no patience for it.  And for crying out loud did you not listen to the instructions in class? What the heck am I to do with three triangles, a square, and no instructions?

Thank God no one has to make a volcano erupt yet, or I might just lose it.

In years to come, maybe I’ll look back with longing at these years.

Right now, we still have it simple.  Mom and dad know it all.  No is no.  We’re still in control.  Sort of.  I have to admit I’m not looking forward to girls.  Puberty.  Body hair.  Talking back.  Attitude.  Expose to language, sex, and drugs.  My oldest just turned 10 and I see these things hovering on the horizon.  I’m scared.  I’m scared to go from sleepless nights to talks about drugs.  Diapers to condoms.  Tantrums to groundings.  Kindergarten to college.

This parenting gig is kind of hard.  The totally cliche and sappy quote “Parenting is your heart forever walking around outside your body” is true.  I’m not a sappy mushy person.  But Oh, how it’s true.

No really, they did. We got married so fast that I lost a few friends who wouldn’t support me. And about 3-6 months into the marriage, our church family kept staring at my tummy, SURE that I must be pregnant. I mean, it had to be a shotgun wedding, right?

We disappointed them.  We got married because we loved each other, and knew it was right, and knew it was of God.  Period.  We ignored the naysayers, and did what we felt was right.

12 years later, we’re still together.  A little ragged around the edges, with worn out knees, and well placed holes, a bit faded.  But still here, still together, and still love each other.

Happy anniversary, Poe.  I love you.  Still.