I’m Always Proud of You?

I don’t know how to begin this post. It’s been sitting with me for a while, but I just haven’t been able to write this.

On November 18, 2011, my mother-in-law called me and told me that she had cancer. She had been going through a series of tests, and we all had a feeling that the prognosis wasn’t going to be good, though we tried to to be optimistic. A few weeks later, at the beginning of December, we found out two things. It was pancreatic. It had spread.

Two days after Christmas, Mom started chemo. The doctor was great. The doctor gave us hope. He defied all of our expectations. Despite everything DH and I read online, we had years left with Mom. Years. 3-4 years. Not months. We all believed this.

On February 18, 2012, three months after she was diagnosed, Mom had been really sick. She had been having horrible stomach issues. We thought maybe she had gotten a virus on top of the chemo that was beating her up every week. The chemo that kept her from her grandchildren. The chemo that made her cry almost every day. We thought we were going in the hospital to get her back on track and bring her home so we could help take care of her.

A week went by, and she was still in the hospital. At one point, she seemed stronger and we thought we were going to bring her home and have hospice help get her through this. We met with hospice that Wednesday or Thursday. We were hoping to bring her home that weekend.

Friday. One week after she went in the hospital. I was at work, and this feeling came over me. It was the moment that I realized what was really happening. I called DH and said “I just want to prepare you. I don’t think we have much more time left.” I went home, and Googled end-stage pancreatic cancer and realized that we were not going to be bringing Mom home. Instead, I grabbed my iPad, went on Facebook and started pulling off pictures of my boys and my nephew. I pulled pictures of my husband, my brother-in-law and my sister-in-law. I took them up to the hospital to show her. She smiled and laughed at them. When the doctor came in, I had two questions. Can we bring the kids up? She has a brother on vacation in California. Should we call him? Yes. Yes.

People came. They brought food. They brought hugs. They made Mom smile. They prayed. They held her hands. They kissed her. They called us. They texted us. They messaged us on Facebook. We had a whole network of support. She knew everyone was there with her. She knew how much we all loved her. She knew it was time.

On February 26, 2012, at about 3:30 in the morning, the greenhouse alarm went off. It sounds like an old-time school bell, and rings loudly to let us house dwellers that the temperature has dropped too low. My father-in-law didn’t hear it. My husband woke him up. Dad went out to the greenhouses, stoked the fire and came in. The phone rang. Mom was gone. Just like that, we had lost her. 3 months after the diagnosis. 2 months after chemo. We never had years.

On February 26, 2012, my husband two boys and I moved in with my father-in-law. As we went through the next hellish 72 hrs of the wake and the funeral, I realized more and more how amazing she was. She did EVERYTHING for this family. She did it quietly. She did it with a smile. She did it all. Her inscription on her gravestone…Forever Adored. Nothing was ever truer.

And then there’s me.

I yell. I drink. I swear. Most of the time I mutter under my breath. I’m loud. I have what I refer to as a “busted filter”. I’m disorganized and I never put things back in the refrigerator or cabinets where they’re supposed to go. I have little to no patience. I  get angry a little to easily. I’ve made major, major mistakes. And I’m living in Mom’s house. I’m living in Mom’s house and every day, I look up at the sky, cross myself and say “I’m sorry, Mom. Please forgive me.”

After some tough conversations, we decided that we would buy the house, jointly with my father-in-law. When we we signing the deed at the lawyer the other day, I came home and cried. This should have never happened. God should have never taken her to him when we all needed her so badly here. Mom kept a binder with all of the entire building process of this house. This was her dream home. This was the house she always wanted, and she should be living in it now. Not. Me.

Life doesn’t always work the way you want it to. Life throws you curveballs and knockout punches. Some days I just don’t want to get out of bed, and somedays I think of the alternative. Somedays I just don’t want to be here. Somedays I just want to get away from all of this. I want things back the way they used to be…before cancer and chemo and loss. Loss of so many good things. I would give anything to have Mom back with us.

The other day, I bragged to my father-in-law about fixing a toilet at work. I have no mechanical ability at all. I said “You’d be proud of me.” He said “I’m always proud of you.” I greatly appreciated his sentiments, but I have to wonder why he said that. I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of. Things that make me feel like I don’t belong here. In a house where there used to be so much laughter…and goodness…and baked goods.  I feel like I’m black-sheeping up the joint.

I don’t know how I’m going to get through this. I don’t know how I’m going to deal with my own frustation and the pain that I feel every day, while trying to help my husband and father-in-law and my kids get through this. One day. One hour. One step, I guess.  But some days, I just want to run and run and keep running.

I need to make new goals in life…starting now. Strive to be good. Strive to be a word that someone used to describe my mother-in-law…gracious. Strive to be someone that everyone could really be proud of. Always.

 

On Swearing…part 1

There aren’t enough good swears out there anymore.

F-bombs are as common as green grass. Shit is barely a curse word. Crap is so mild I barely cringe when my 5-year-old says it. Bitch is now used to describe things that are amazing.

Sure…there are a couple female anatomy swears that will make me shudder. “Special occasion” words he calls them…words so bad only a serious situation warrants their usage. But here’s a word, that should make it’s way back into the lexicon. Shouted from the rooftops (ok…maybe not…but)

Whore.

Did I get your attention? That’s because I went old school. Way old. Pretty sure Bible translations used the word whore. I know, I know. It means “promiscuous woman”. However, due to current terms such as “attention whore”, it got overplayed. I remember wielding its power in high school once or twice. It’s not a nice word. I’ll give you that. But I prefer it to c-bombs and p-bombs. Besides…the title of this post was…”on swearing…part 1…”. That implies the post may offend some, right? So don’t complain to me if you are offended. You filthy bunch of whores. (Just kidding).
)
PS: I love the Police. They are great at writing about inappropriate topics without one swear. Don’t stand so close to me. You don’t have to put on the red light. Genius. Police…I salute you.

15 Things We Should Consider Not Posting On Facebook Anymore

This was an awesome post. I’ve posted a lot about Facebook and my love hate relationship.

FibroM.E.-Awesome

1. How many centimeters dilated you are. Although it’s been fun following every day of your pregnancy, this is something we never need to know. Ever. EVER. Hang on I just started my period I’ll be right back.

2. You’re moving out so you’re giving away free shit. It’s nice and everything, but most likely  no one will want your shit stained area rug or couch, even if it is free.

3. Picture of your baby in front of raisins. Picture of your baby picking up the raisins. Picture of your baby putting the raisins in his mouth. Picture of your baby chewing the raisins. Picture of your baby in front of a plate that used to have all the raisins he ate on it.

4. How much studying you have to do and how busy you are. You sure? Cause you’ve been commenting on my albums from 3 years ago…

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A Purpose (?) Driven Blog

Sometimes I feel like this blog has gone the same direction as my life.  Lacking in purpose.

Ok-I’m kidding…and exaggerating.  But seriously.  I really thought I was going to do a parenting blog-a blog about raising kids, advice, etc.  Essentially a blog about my kids.  What it has become, which is way more suited to me, is a blog about a parent.  Yes, I have kids.  But really, am I one to give advice?  I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.  I’m flying by the seat of my pants.  Some days, like today, are great parenting days.  Some days. like this past Saturday, I go to bed in tears, knowing that I really failed one (or both) of my sons.  Those are the days that I hope they forget.

Right now, I’ve been trying to wrap my head around a new problem.  Lightning has started having accidents at school.  Two, three times a week, sometimes more.  This just started about a month ago.  I’ve been trying to figure out why he’s doing it, and get him to stop.  Some days I talk to him about it and feel like I’ve gotten through.  Some days I’m downright mean, telling him that all the kids are going to make fun of him and he needs to stop doing it.  Some days he tells me the truth about what happened.  Most of the time he lies to me and tries to hide it.  I’m really thrown.  Despite me telling him what the other kids would say, I’ve never told him that he couldn’t tell me or made fun of him for having an accident.  I’ve never told him that he can’t go to the bathroom.

The problem that I don’t want to acknowledge or deal with is that he’s picked up on some burdens at home.  Maybe he’s upset because I started going back to work full time.  I work 7-3 and don’t see him in the mornings anymore.  He also knows that my mother-in-law is sick and he knows that he can’t see her as much because of the medicine she takes.  We haven’t been really careful about keeping cancer and chemo related conversations away from him, mainly because we have them all the time.  It’s just part of our lives now, and maybe, unknowingly, we’ve made it part of his.

At any rate, I don’t know what to do.  The kid has also developed tics, including but not limited to: eye-rolling/blinking, rolling his tongue around his mouth and making smacking noises and also constantly moving his fingers when he gets nervous.  The tics used to be infrequent, but now they happen a couple of times a day.  My husband read an article online from the American Association of Pediatrics saying that it is normal for kids to have tics that last for a few months.  The jury is out as to whether or not I’m taking him to the pediatrician, not because I don’t want to, but I’ve already had him evaluated for a learning disability (which he doesn’t have, just some speech issues) and I’ve had my other son go to an allergist (who wouldn’t test him because his rash isn’t an allergy indicator).  I’m not a paranoid mother, and we’re only at the pediatrician about 2-3 times/year, per kid, but I just don’t want to go through another evaluation again and make myself look like a crazy person.  Mothers are judged the minute they go out in public, and I’m only pseudo-strong…I can talk a good game that the stares and whispers about my kids don’t bother me, and that the other people are the ones with problems…but that’s not true.  It really hurts when people say things about my kids, and I can’t just brush it off or come up with an on the spot quip.  I’m only witty in my writing, and sometimes that doesn’t even work.

If anyone is reading this, and they have any advice, let me know.  I really don’t know what to do anymore.  I just know I don’t want everyone to make fun of my son like they did me.  I don’t think either one of us can handle that.

You’ve Got “Someone” to Blame

There comes a time in your life where you can’t blame anyone else on your problems anymore. No matter what terrible things happened in the past, you can’t keep going on holding others responsible.

I’ve never kept my anger issues a secret from anyone. In fact, I’m pretty open about my struggles. But I don’t know what to do anymore. I have tried everything to try to “fix” the problem and I can’t figure it out. I consider myself as someone who has a pretty good sense of humor. Yet laughing it off has proven to be impossible in some situations, particularly with my children. Sometimes, despite my best efforts, they are ill-behaved and I lose my freakin mind. I don’t want to, but it happens.

Yeah, I know. Go see a therapist. Been there. Done that. I would argue at this point that dredging up all of the people, situations and events in the past that have made me angry in the past is only going to make me more pissed off. Think about it…when you go on and on about something that sets you off, do you ever feel better? Relieved? No. You just want to kick the ass(es) of the person or people that ticked you off in the first place. I have 40 notebooks for that.

You know what…maybe I need a physical outlet. I mean, I have this blog, but who is really reading this anyway? I don’t even think my husband reads it. He probably thinks i just go on about Bono and Glee and other such things. Grr…he really…ok…moving on

I’m not a gun fan, or the shooting range might be fun. I imagine I would injure myself though. Maybe I need to take on Karate or some other kind of martial art. I’m as graceless as an camel though, so I’m thinking that may not work. Maybe I should join a gym or something…get me out of the house. Or maybe I will just lay off the coffee and switch to Dramamine, so I’m in a continual stupor. Bad idea. My driving isn’t that good.

My husband, God love him, suggested that I just stop being so angry. Hmm…I hadn’t though of THAT one. Grr…sometimes he really…ok…moving on.

Maybe there isn’t a solution. Maybe I just have to deal with this and go my own way. I am the one in the house who is most willing to speak out against “injustice”, whether real or perceived. I’m also most likely to get a result from customer service people. Maybe remembering…CONSTANTLY…that I’m dealing with humans and none of us are perfect. We’re actually kind of funny. A sense of humor is one of the greatest gifts I was given. I just have to use it more often.

No closure. No answers. Same as usual. Maybe a start to something (again). At least I’m thinking about dealing with it again. Life really is too short.

Note:  I read this article http://www.psychologytoday.com/articles/200402/vitamins-get-your-bs  that tells you that getting enough B12, B6 and Folate can help improve mood.  I started taking it last night.  So far, I don’t feel much better…but I think it takes about 3 weeks for anything like that to process through the body.  More later.  

Mother Mush Brain

I can never remember to put the washing machine lid down. I leave my wallet at home when I go to the store. This brain that used to hold so much is failing me? Why? Maybe it’s stress. Maybe it’s because my kids are loud…so loud that I can’t hear myself think. Maybe it’s because I now know more about augers and articulated dump trucks than I did 5 1/2 years ago and some parts of my brain had to push out information to let this whole new world. My kids caused this though…I’m sure of that.

As the years go by, I start forgetting things. I feel like the times where I had “babies” are so far away. Sometimes I feel bad when DH remembers more than I do. Was it really worth all the time I spent yelling at him for not remembering when I now CRS?

I know more of this is coming down the road. I’ll forget to pick them up from practice, or a friend’s house. They’ll get aggravated with me. It all will turn out ok. It seems that the older they get, the more they remember EVERY WORD I’ve ever said. We’ll help each other out. I’ll remember what they forget and they’ll forget what I remember.

It’s Not Worth It…

Everyone who knows me well, knows that I have suffered from anger issues for most of my life.  I have a bunch of theories about where it stems from, but that’s irrelevant.  I’m a healthy adult with all (most) of my mental faculties about me, so the history doesn’t matter.

Perhaps you’re reading this as a friends I had a fight with.  Or a family member that I don’t always get along with.  Maybe you’re my husband who has seen my fly off the handle and say many, many things I shouldn’t say.  I say to you this…it’s not worth it. 

Our family was recently dealt a huge blow, and we’ve all been trying to cope the best way we can.  For 2012, I really want to live every day to the fullest and enjoy things around me.  The little stresses of the kids, marriage, family and work aren’t worth it.  One of my co-workers said today “You never know what could happen.”  She’s right.  Why should I spend my time on the planet being angry at small things, things I can’t control.  I may get frustrated at work, but there are people that don’t have jobs.  I may get angry at my kids, but there are many people that can’t have children or have lost a child.  I get upset when I have a cold, but there are people who are sicker than me that get up every day and stay strong.  My parents may drive me crazy sometimes, but they are getting older and won’t be around forever.  My husband may drive me crazy, but some people never find love, or have a love that they lose.  I live in a house with carpets that are crappy and leaking windows, but there are kids in Lightning’s school that are leaving with family or in motels.  I’m trying really hard to be mindful of Plato’s saying “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle.”  It’s going to be difficult, but when I think about what I have and what others are going through, I feel pretty blessed. 

Maybe the greatest resolution I have this year, as corny as it sounds, is to be a better person.  I think we all have it in us if we try. 

Resolutions 2012

Here they are…in no particular order….

Keep the weight off that I worked so hard to lose.
Stay healthy.
Keep writing.
Help others.
Spend more time with people I care about.
Don’t start stupid arguments.
Work hard.
Stop getting so angry.
Spend more time with my husband and kids.

Stop sweating the small stuff. Life is short. It’s not worth it. Say it every day. Life is bigger than any of us and we shouldn’t waste it.

Last Year’s Resolutions

These were my resolutions for 2011

Apparently it takes 21 days to form a habit.

That being said, if I start my New Year’s Resolutions now, I should actually be in better shape to follow them once the new year starts. Drumroll. Here they are in no particular order.

Lose the last 15 lbs (did it)

Exercise more (did it)

Eat better (sort of)

Take better care of myself (sort of)

Take anger management (I bought a book. It kind of worked.)

Figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life. (haven’t done that yet)

Play more with my kids (I’m working on it)

Be kinder to my husband (that didn’t go as planned)

Read more (yes!)

Write more(yes!)

Apologize less (n)

Stop worrying about what other people think about me (n)

Spend less time playing video games (why?)

Go to be earlier (never works out)

Be more assertive (n)

Here’s one I’m grappling with…I feel like “Try not to be a bitch” should be up there. However, I feel there are times where it’s 100% absolutely necessary to be a bitch. So, instead, how about –Chanel my “inner bitch”. That will work. I guess that falls under the anger management category.

I recognize that this is a pretty tall order. I also recognize that some of these resolutions pop up every year. No one’s perfect, but I’m really going to try to get it right next year. If nothing else, I’m off to a good, early start.

Add be more organized to the list…

Black Friday Madness

I meant to blog about this a few days ago, but the time escaped me.  

Last year my husband did Black Friday by himself.  Sick. This year, I decided to do it with him.  Mostlty for the experience.  I thought we may have a bonding ,moment during theordeal.  It didn’t happen.  I think it was a combination of being tired, cold and not really into it.  Here’s the lowdown on waht happened.  

We had a great Thanksgiving dinner.  After putting the kids to bed at my in-laws, we drove to Target, passing insanity of Walmart and Toys r Us.  Thank Heaven for 7-11 and the tiny little shots of caffeine  that you can get…for free.  It’s now 9:15.  We are at Target.  Target opens in 2 hours 45 minutes. It’s going to be a long night.

To keep ourselves busy we brought reading material and smart phones…complete with Words with Friends. We’re both reading Anna Karenina, so I had my Nook and he had the book with him. I don’t really like making conversation with strangers, so that wasn’t even an option. I did take time out from my intellectual pursuits to make a few observations.

1: Don’t cut in line. Just because your sister’s boyfriend’s cousin is 30th in line does NOT give you the right to “hang out” and “chat” until 11:59. Get to the back buddy. People will yell at you. Security will have a talk with you. It does not pay.

2: Don’t smoke in line. I will gladly hold your place in line if you will gladly stop blowing your mentholated smoke in my face. Also, if your going to smoke in line, less than half a pack is cool with me.

3: Do I look chatty? I’m reading a book in the dark. My husband is reading a book. We aren’t even communicating with each other. Why would I want to discuss shopping strategies with you? You could be going for the same TV. There are 40 people in front of us and about 30 TV’s. I’m not discussing anything with you. If I don’t know you…we aren’t becoming BFFs in this line.

4: Don’t drive through the parking lot and yell at the group. Just because we have nothing to do but wait for hours for dramatically discounted electronics doesn’t mean that we are losers. It just means we want as much crap for as little money as possible.

5: Don’t push. Really honey? Stop ramming my cart. If I could plow through 5 people and 20 ft of television I would. However, I left my bulldozer attachment at home.

6: Don’t go to Toys r Us. Ever. While Target was a well-oiled machine, Toys r Us was something out of Santa’s nightmare. Lines of people…and their kids (@1 am!!) and no place to go. I’d like to thank all of my crazy WWF players for keeping me sane. Kudos to me if I beat you. At times I couldn’t see or hear.

7: Don’t drink an extra large coffee. You may find yourself discreetly peeing into recently emptied cup. Hey. I’m not proud. But it’s all about survival. Eat or be eaten.

Above all, remember this: It’s the holiday season. Quit being a jackass. We are all tired and cranky. Don’t think that you are special. You’re just another capitalist searching for the perfect item to fill a void. Happy Holidays. See you next year.

Yeah, I’ll probably do this again. I’m a sucker for video games and 46″ of TV. Aren’t we all?