So, that's how you're going to play this now? When you don't like what I have to say you'll tell me that I've been on edge since I started to work. How about the reason I've been on edge is because you lost your job. You made choices that completely changed our lives, taking us along for a ride that we didn't choose to be on, but your choices put us here, nonetheless. I've been on edge since then, yeah.
You want me to butt out, but you leave little room for that when you are clearly wrong and making a mess out of the lives of our children. When they choose to make decisions that would be different than ones you would make, it does not reflect poorly on you. You reflect poorly on you. They have no responsibility toward making you look good. None.
I would think you could grasp a hold of this concept since it is a very real analogy to the situation we are currently in. So, before you start slinging me through the mud every day and making me feel bad about mourning the loss of something that I was proud of, you should take some responsibility for the situation. I am tired of you. Do you have any idea how many hours a day I spend thinking about asking you for a divorce? At one point I was pretty sure I was supposed to stick this out and make the best of it. Lately, I'm not nearly as sure. I think it's quite possible that I may be able to be happier.
Yes, I am on edge. Yes, I am unhappy. Yes, I am considering leaving you. But make no mistake that any of that is tied to my trying my damnedest to make provisions for this family. It is tied to you. I'm simply unsure how much more I am willing to carry around with me anymore. The kids come first. If you insist on screwing them up for some silly notion that you have of them not being who you want them to be then you can kiss that sorry horse goodbye immediately. I will not play your stupid games. And I will not allow myself to be treated that way, either.
Your choice.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Monday, November 19, 2012
Tortured Souls
Way back in high school, I ended up taking a Humanities class. Not just a foreign language, but a for reals Humanities class. We studied art and artists and architecture. I remember wondering why artists had to be so tortured to be so brilliant in their craft. Beethoven was pretty much certifiable, DaVinci and Michelangelo each had some demons, and don't even start on VanGogh.
The longer I experience life, both with joy and pain, I realize and know that it is the pain that creates an avenue for the creation to pour through. Maybe it's because when things get easier, we get complacent and comfortable. We heal. I know that in my life, I only write when I am hurting. When I feel a true and desperate passion for something. The release is sweet. The words that swirl around in my head during tumultuous times are so caustic and so vile that I actually fear speaking them out loud. People say that they are here for me, and I believe them, but the words that I want to use are severe. Not profane, but hateful. Repugnant. I am ashamed of them. I am ashamed of how I feel at these times, and sorry to admit that I rarely control how I feel, except to try not to spill them. Except when I write.
I am so afraid. Actual terror. Money is evil, you know. It can buoy a person right up, because it provides comfort and stability. It creates opportunity. When it disappears, it is breath taking. Suddenly not being able to buy yourself a soda because it may just be too frivolous is gut wrenching. Remember the days when we could afford a pizza? How did I not appreciate the blessing and the gift of that stability? But, I did appreciate it. For 2 years I have prayed that it not be removed from us. I tried to be so mindful of the gifts, and grateful for them. I did not forget.
I am so angry. So very very livid about the circumstances. I made none of the choices that placed us here in the predicament. How might it have been different if I had stepped it up and been present instead of taking the back seat because it truly wasn't a situation that warranted my presence, officially? If it were anyone else, it would have worked out, and I am angry because, of course, we would fumble it all up. I am still mourning the loss. I still cant believe it is over. I still think it should come back in some way, provided by some miracle. I still want to find a time wrinkle and fix it. I am still reeling. I don't completely understand how I got here. And, I don't really like my new life. It should have worked out. There is really no reason at all that this is happening. None.
At times I do feel the peace. I am trying to choose to believe that there is a good waiting in the distance. And that may be true, but during the vast majority of the rest of the time, I feel an absolute dread. I feel that there isn't a lot of distance between us and a shelter or a street corner or eating 1 meal a day at the soup kitchen. My skin hurts. There is actual pain and discomfort physically. I cannot concentrate.
I would be lying if I said I wasn't considering leaving again. It is true that I have been considering work and school for a long while, but always ended each conversation with myself with this thought, "I'm afraid if I do that, I'll leave him." If I could just feel that he wasn't stupid... I have made covenants to harken to his council. To follow. I know that I am not supposed to go, I have at least been given that answer, but I want to. And I feel shame for that, too.
And then the passing of Grandpa. I feel so guilty for so many things. Not visiting, having an excuse to cry and needing to have a paycheck in addition to a service. I hate that he was alone. I hate that I don't have a picture with him. I hate that I am so selfish.
Goodbye, Grandpa. I know that you and Grandma must be so happy to be together again right now. I know that you and Lyle have had a lot to catch up on! I am so happy that it was easy for you, and that you endured well. I am grateful for your example in my life and the dry shtick you always had. Thank you for being you and never anyone different. I love you.
That is all for now. It is severely disjointed and definitely not genius like you could have expected from a Renaissance Tortured Soul, but it is all I have inside me at this moment. It is raw, and hopefully I can begin to heal soon.
The longer I experience life, both with joy and pain, I realize and know that it is the pain that creates an avenue for the creation to pour through. Maybe it's because when things get easier, we get complacent and comfortable. We heal. I know that in my life, I only write when I am hurting. When I feel a true and desperate passion for something. The release is sweet. The words that swirl around in my head during tumultuous times are so caustic and so vile that I actually fear speaking them out loud. People say that they are here for me, and I believe them, but the words that I want to use are severe. Not profane, but hateful. Repugnant. I am ashamed of them. I am ashamed of how I feel at these times, and sorry to admit that I rarely control how I feel, except to try not to spill them. Except when I write.
I am so afraid. Actual terror. Money is evil, you know. It can buoy a person right up, because it provides comfort and stability. It creates opportunity. When it disappears, it is breath taking. Suddenly not being able to buy yourself a soda because it may just be too frivolous is gut wrenching. Remember the days when we could afford a pizza? How did I not appreciate the blessing and the gift of that stability? But, I did appreciate it. For 2 years I have prayed that it not be removed from us. I tried to be so mindful of the gifts, and grateful for them. I did not forget.
I am so angry. So very very livid about the circumstances. I made none of the choices that placed us here in the predicament. How might it have been different if I had stepped it up and been present instead of taking the back seat because it truly wasn't a situation that warranted my presence, officially? If it were anyone else, it would have worked out, and I am angry because, of course, we would fumble it all up. I am still mourning the loss. I still cant believe it is over. I still think it should come back in some way, provided by some miracle. I still want to find a time wrinkle and fix it. I am still reeling. I don't completely understand how I got here. And, I don't really like my new life. It should have worked out. There is really no reason at all that this is happening. None.
At times I do feel the peace. I am trying to choose to believe that there is a good waiting in the distance. And that may be true, but during the vast majority of the rest of the time, I feel an absolute dread. I feel that there isn't a lot of distance between us and a shelter or a street corner or eating 1 meal a day at the soup kitchen. My skin hurts. There is actual pain and discomfort physically. I cannot concentrate.
I would be lying if I said I wasn't considering leaving again. It is true that I have been considering work and school for a long while, but always ended each conversation with myself with this thought, "I'm afraid if I do that, I'll leave him." If I could just feel that he wasn't stupid... I have made covenants to harken to his council. To follow. I know that I am not supposed to go, I have at least been given that answer, but I want to. And I feel shame for that, too.
And then the passing of Grandpa. I feel so guilty for so many things. Not visiting, having an excuse to cry and needing to have a paycheck in addition to a service. I hate that he was alone. I hate that I don't have a picture with him. I hate that I am so selfish.
Goodbye, Grandpa. I know that you and Grandma must be so happy to be together again right now. I know that you and Lyle have had a lot to catch up on! I am so happy that it was easy for you, and that you endured well. I am grateful for your example in my life and the dry shtick you always had. Thank you for being you and never anyone different. I love you.
That is all for now. It is severely disjointed and definitely not genius like you could have expected from a Renaissance Tortured Soul, but it is all I have inside me at this moment. It is raw, and hopefully I can begin to heal soon.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Vacation's over. Truth time.
I want to write a few things down while they're fresh so I don't forget how they happened or why. I feel like I needed a few pointers before we left to prepare for. Sometimes there's just no substitute for experience. Besides, no one reads this blog anyway, so if I vent a little it's probably gonna be ok.
1. If you have trouble getting along in the first place, a big family vacay will not have wondrous effects.
Let's face it. When you all embark on a big journey together, each of you will have certain expectations. At some point, each will be very disappointed. This is why I never go anywhere with friends or acquaintances or other people I know. When your children become disappointed, they're going to let everyone around them know how they feel.
No. Matter. What.
Our SoCal vacay started in San Diego, where we would spend Friday evening through Monday morning with Shane's brother Dave. They spent about 3 tanks of gas carting us around showing us the sights and providing for our entertainment. Saturday didn't go as they had planned and we ended up spending most of the day in the car. This was utterly unacceptable to Paige who expressed it loudly and often. Which then led to my telling her off and then to her sobbing uncontrollably- 2 or 3 times that day alone.
She would point out that my rehashing the situation with her was embarrassing for her. She didn't seem to understand that by the time her tantrum was over I needed to explain why her choices were poor and I didn't really care that it was going to be embarrassing for her, as she had already embarrassed me with her behavior.
Finally, things worked themselves out and fun did occur. But at a cost, which was tiring. We played at the beach and in the ocean, a first for most of us.
Sunday things went a little smoother, but was still a jam packed day full of firsts. We started by going to a swap meet, where my kids were exposed to a lot of culture differences and listening to them ask questions and then try to understand the answer was fun. Then we drove to the harbor area where the retired air craft carrier sits. We did a lot of walking around there before heading to dinner which included a 90 minute line out the door and down the sidewalk with a girl behind us who had Turrets Syndrome. Her current tick included, "F&%$ it" and "F*&% you".
Awesome.
Following that weekend I think we could have come home and been perfectly happy with our vacation. I don't think any of us were prepared for the sensory overload and physical challenge we had set up for ourselves in the days to come.
Monday: Dave drove us up to our hotel in the morning, but the hotel could not let us check in that early, so we left our bags and headed to the park. In doing so, I felt rushed and discombobulated, leaving some items behind and feeling unsettled because we weren't in a room yet, etc. However, in the park we did have a good time. We rode several rides and acquainted ourselves with the park a bit.
Around 3pm we headed back to the hotel where we were pleasantly surprised by our room. The 2 room suite included 2 queen beds, sofa-bed & side chair, 2 dressers, kitchen table, full fridge/freezer, 2 burner stove, microwave, sink & dishwasher. There were dishes, pots, pans, silverware, cooking utensils toaster & colander.
But at that time we had to figure out what to get from a store to bring back to the room to eat all week. We shopped at Target, not far from the hotel, but I bought too much. We ate quite well all week, but really with what we were able to bring up from breakfast each morning, we probably would've gotten by pretty well with some sodas, water, loaves of bread, peanut butter, jelly, a gallon of milk & some cereal. The thing was that by the time we made it back to the hotel each afternoon, we were so tired from walking around that we could barely muster any appetite. We would rest a little then back to the park, skipping dinner entirely.
Not wanting to miss any action at the park, we hurried right on back, and fought almost all night.
Shane fought with the kids, I fought with the kids, the kids fought with each other, Shane & I fought with each other. The lines were long, our feet were killing us, no one knew what they wanted to do or see, people were rude, the kids sat on everything, climbed on everything which made us madder.
On each ride we emerged satisfied and in awe of what we'd experienced, but we would go to the next attraction and do it all again. We stayed for the fireworks that night which I will say were incredible, though we had to stand for them and stand for an hour before them. Still the show was worth it. Then we ran straight for Fantasmic, which also was amazing. Got to sit for that one, thank goodness! Even if I had to stand for that one, it would have been worth it, too. After that, we thought we could do one more ride before heading off to bed, but we didn't anticipate the technical difficulties that ride was experiencing and also couldn't see the deception in how long the line really was. We should have bagged it, but didn't and ended up closing the park that night.
Tuesday was Shane's & my anniversary and we'd heard that World of Color was exceptional, so we opted to spend that day in California Adventure. This park opens a little later than Disneyland and also closes earlier. So we slept in a tad and got some leisurely breakfast. Actually, I woke with a slight headache and a need for a little alone time. Also I was irritated with Shane for freaking out on Ty the night before, so I played up the headache part a bit & everybody went down to breakfast without me. When I felt better, I went down and just as I was getting there they were all coming back up with a tray of food for me.
Awwww. I know.
This part was interesting though. We headed back for the elevator and a few other people also came to that line. When the doors opened, I went in. So did the kids. Apparently we'd missed the cue that Shane doesn't ride in elevators with others cause he was still standing out there with the tray of food. I just said quickly, "It's a busy morning, they're all gonna be full." so he reluctantly stepped inside and faced the side wall.
Uh, weird?! When he looked at me I gave him the face to "turn around retard!" so he did, but then got mad at me for making him feel stupid! Off to a great start.
At the park we did better together, but the second ride we went on was California Screamin' and afterword, Shane got really sick. I was a little irritated that he couldn't pull himself together, but sent him back to the hotel because there was no way he was gonna make it. Guess what? We still had some family issues without him, but for the most part, fought quite a bit less. I didn't go back to the hotel until after 3 to get him.
He was better after that and we were able to do several things that evening, including the World of Color show, which has it's own issues. Sorry Disney, I'm disappointed. Maybe it just didn't live up to the hype, but we waited in that line just to get into the show for over an hour. Standing. Again. Once the show started, my kids couldn't see it! They won't let people sit, so when other peoples kids can't see, parents just hop them right up on their shoulders. I decided to move, was directed to a spot and when that didn't work out very well I asked another one of the employees, "Hey, my kids can't see, is there a better place for us to try?" She shrugged her shoulders and said she didn't know what to tell me. When that happened, I just couldn't deal anymore. Everything is such an emotional toll. The show was fine, but in no way did it even come close to comparing to Fantasmic. In my opinion, shot it out of the water. We did end up seeing ok, I guess. Another worker tried to help me after that one girl, but I was a little beyond pulling it together.
The lesson that we learned that day was that the killer is standing. It just plain hurts. Every morning, & afternoon for that matter, after a good rest, the tired legs & sore feet are tolerable but after 20 minutes of standing you just wear out, fast.
So Wednesday, right. We thought we would finish up in California Adventure in the morning and hit Disneyland after the afternoon break. We were able to accomplish this pretty well and time must be healing the wounds cause I don't remember specific fights right now. Although, I'm sure there were several.
I remember the morning and getting there right as the park opened. We wanted to get straight to the Toy Story Mania ride right away because I knew that line would get long fast. Holy crap though! It lined up so insanely fast, even though we were there right when they opened, right when they untied the ropes, when we got to the line it was 2 hours long already. That's just crazy. Instead we lounged about the park a bit, did some less popular rides and worked our way back to Toy Story, where we still had to wait over an hour, but it was a fun ride.
That night, we went back to Disney and did a couple of the things we hadn't done yet. We were able to get the Autopia ride out of the way, which I'm glad we did cause it had so many technical issues as it was. The next day when we walked past they were only running one lane of cars out of 4. No wonder that line gets out of control! We also got to do the Finding Nemo Submarine that night. I have to say that as a small kid I remember the submarine ride and I remember that we went on it at night. I was so glad to hear they brought a submarine ride back to the park! This ride brought back a lot of memories for me & it was awesome besides.
We called it quits after that for the night. Thursday was to be our "Magic Morning" so we headed back to the hotel early. Though there was some issue with the bus system that night, after 45 minutes on the bus, didn't end up turning in very early after all.
The "Magic Morning" :
The tickets we bought included one magic morning, as I'm sure everyone's did. It was to open an hour before the rest of the park & feature certain attractions in both Tomorrowland and Fantasyland. So we had saved most of Tomorrowland for this day. It worked out well because we were able to get into the Star Wars ride pretty fast and almost walk onto both Buzz Lightyear & Space Mountain. Shane decided that rather than ride Space Mountain, he would get us a Fast Pass at Indiana Jones. This worked really well also. By the way, Space Mountain wound up being my all time favorite. I remembered why as a kid I loved it so much! It was closed the last time we were at the park and so I'm glad I got to experience it as an adult!
That morning we got to do a few of our favorites once more like Pirates and Haunted Mansion and Thunder Mountain Railroad. We also got a bit of shopping in, though we hadn't been clear with the kids on souvenirs, which we would pay for later.
By noon our legs were giving in again and it was hot. Dave & Angie were coming down to meet us for dinner that evening at Buca. This is what I thought the plan was: I thought we'd call it early since we'd started early, we wanted to be rested for dinner and also fresh. Then once they headed out we would come back to the park for some nighttime rides and etc. It was, after all, the last night we would be there.
I guess I don't know if we communicated all of these words so much or if it was more implied. I don't know if the kids just didn't think about it or if they saw an opportunity for something else. I don't know if I was unrealistic or what exactly, but I take full responsibility for Thursday night and whatever infamy it will have in our future. This is what happened.
We ate a little for lunch. The TV got turned on. The kids went down to the pool. I knew I was tired and I knew that it would be a late night so I went in to bed. I slept for a good 2 hours or more. The kids weren't gone for quite that long, but when they came up they didn't lay down at all. I was the only one who had a nap that afternoon. Then I showered and got ready for the dinner, which was lovely. It was great to see D&A again and the girls. We had a great dinner. So glad we did that! They came back up to the room for a bit and were impressed.
After they left, I was rearing to go! But Ty looked like he could fall over at any minute, Paige looked tired as well. But I was geared up and ready for the park. As I write this I know that I should have been a mom at that point. I know that I should have sent those kids to bed and been done with the whole thing. I asked twice before we left if Ty thought he would make it, he said yes, but only so not to disappoint me. Which I feel bad about now.
I thought we'd been clear on the plans and as such expected my family to know and recognize their limits also. I knew mine which is why I napped. When we got to the park and no one wanted to do anything, I just got mad. What a waste. I didn't buy the 5 day ticket so that we could spend till noon at the park and the rest of the day at the hotel pool! We can swim at home! We rode all your favorite rides twice, why couldn't I get to ride my fave twice? Because the wait wasn't worth it, that's why. I'll admit to being a beast that night. I knew we were ruining the whole damn thing, but none of us possessed any power at all to stop it from happening.
45 minutes after arriving at the park, we left. It took a long time to get back again, though I don't remember why this time. I watched the park close from the balcony while everyone else was in bed, sleeping soundly.
Friday morning arrived. Like it or not this was the last day. We were a bit beyond starting crazy early but managed to get packed up and out the door pretty well. We even made a pact to simply have a good day and end on a good note.
We did ride Space Mountain again and finish everything that we wanted to. Mostly. I had promised an autograph of Snow White's to the girl babysitting the cats at home and we hadn't seen her all week so that added a bit of pressure, but when we decided to abandon it, it helped.
We spent most of the day shopping for souvenirs, which were elusive. Neither Shane or I had found the things we wanted to jump out at us. Of course, everything jumped out at the kids, so we'd been buying stuff all week and blowing some things off all together. When I found the thing I wanted most, I was unprepared for the pricetag, but Shane insisted I get it anyway. This, of course, put a dejected look on Paige's face which is how the ball starts rolling.
Ty will have nothing else, not at all, we've spent too much on him already, he's just grateful to be here. J's souvenir was the same price as mine so we're all square there. Shane finds what he wants and that's good but there was something we saw this morning that was cute. If I can just find it and get it for Paige, this whole thing goes away! Cant quite remember what it was... can't quite remember where I saw it. Running out of time... run here... run there. Aha! I remember what it was, can I find it anywhere? Of course not.
In the last 10 minutes of our time in the park, we have the biggest meltdown yet, all over a stupid souvenir that Paige didn't even know she had to have or why. The really hard part of it was that the way the rest of the afternoon went, there was time to find it and buy it twice and leave the park thanking it for the wonderful memories and a heartfelt goodbye. Instead we left so angry at each other and embarrassed to be around one another. Ty covered his ears at me and I hit him. Paige and Shane screamed at each other 2 or 3 times. And Jordan just tried to evaporate from our presence. Who can blame him?
After checking out at the hotel, we waited for our shuttle to the airport. That man was very professional and helpful. I would recommend him. Before we even knew it, we were back on a plane and headed home.
The kids now say they had a good time, but I am confident that there will be some roasting about this vacation in years to come. I know now what I should have done differently. My next post will be about pointers and advice, what's worth it and what's not. I hope that we didn't ruin Disney for our kids, but the hard truth is that we might have. It really is the Happiest Place On Earth, but there are tricks to enduring the magic. And each other.
1. If you have trouble getting along in the first place, a big family vacay will not have wondrous effects.
Let's face it. When you all embark on a big journey together, each of you will have certain expectations. At some point, each will be very disappointed. This is why I never go anywhere with friends or acquaintances or other people I know. When your children become disappointed, they're going to let everyone around them know how they feel.
No. Matter. What.
Our SoCal vacay started in San Diego, where we would spend Friday evening through Monday morning with Shane's brother Dave. They spent about 3 tanks of gas carting us around showing us the sights and providing for our entertainment. Saturday didn't go as they had planned and we ended up spending most of the day in the car. This was utterly unacceptable to Paige who expressed it loudly and often. Which then led to my telling her off and then to her sobbing uncontrollably- 2 or 3 times that day alone.
She would point out that my rehashing the situation with her was embarrassing for her. She didn't seem to understand that by the time her tantrum was over I needed to explain why her choices were poor and I didn't really care that it was going to be embarrassing for her, as she had already embarrassed me with her behavior.
Finally, things worked themselves out and fun did occur. But at a cost, which was tiring. We played at the beach and in the ocean, a first for most of us.
Sunday things went a little smoother, but was still a jam packed day full of firsts. We started by going to a swap meet, where my kids were exposed to a lot of culture differences and listening to them ask questions and then try to understand the answer was fun. Then we drove to the harbor area where the retired air craft carrier sits. We did a lot of walking around there before heading to dinner which included a 90 minute line out the door and down the sidewalk with a girl behind us who had Turrets Syndrome. Her current tick included, "F&%$ it" and "F*&% you".
Awesome.
Following that weekend I think we could have come home and been perfectly happy with our vacation. I don't think any of us were prepared for the sensory overload and physical challenge we had set up for ourselves in the days to come.
Monday: Dave drove us up to our hotel in the morning, but the hotel could not let us check in that early, so we left our bags and headed to the park. In doing so, I felt rushed and discombobulated, leaving some items behind and feeling unsettled because we weren't in a room yet, etc. However, in the park we did have a good time. We rode several rides and acquainted ourselves with the park a bit.
Around 3pm we headed back to the hotel where we were pleasantly surprised by our room. The 2 room suite included 2 queen beds, sofa-bed & side chair, 2 dressers, kitchen table, full fridge/freezer, 2 burner stove, microwave, sink & dishwasher. There were dishes, pots, pans, silverware, cooking utensils toaster & colander.
But at that time we had to figure out what to get from a store to bring back to the room to eat all week. We shopped at Target, not far from the hotel, but I bought too much. We ate quite well all week, but really with what we were able to bring up from breakfast each morning, we probably would've gotten by pretty well with some sodas, water, loaves of bread, peanut butter, jelly, a gallon of milk & some cereal. The thing was that by the time we made it back to the hotel each afternoon, we were so tired from walking around that we could barely muster any appetite. We would rest a little then back to the park, skipping dinner entirely.
Not wanting to miss any action at the park, we hurried right on back, and fought almost all night.
Shane fought with the kids, I fought with the kids, the kids fought with each other, Shane & I fought with each other. The lines were long, our feet were killing us, no one knew what they wanted to do or see, people were rude, the kids sat on everything, climbed on everything which made us madder.
On each ride we emerged satisfied and in awe of what we'd experienced, but we would go to the next attraction and do it all again. We stayed for the fireworks that night which I will say were incredible, though we had to stand for them and stand for an hour before them. Still the show was worth it. Then we ran straight for Fantasmic, which also was amazing. Got to sit for that one, thank goodness! Even if I had to stand for that one, it would have been worth it, too. After that, we thought we could do one more ride before heading off to bed, but we didn't anticipate the technical difficulties that ride was experiencing and also couldn't see the deception in how long the line really was. We should have bagged it, but didn't and ended up closing the park that night.
Tuesday was Shane's & my anniversary and we'd heard that World of Color was exceptional, so we opted to spend that day in California Adventure. This park opens a little later than Disneyland and also closes earlier. So we slept in a tad and got some leisurely breakfast. Actually, I woke with a slight headache and a need for a little alone time. Also I was irritated with Shane for freaking out on Ty the night before, so I played up the headache part a bit & everybody went down to breakfast without me. When I felt better, I went down and just as I was getting there they were all coming back up with a tray of food for me.
Awwww. I know.
This part was interesting though. We headed back for the elevator and a few other people also came to that line. When the doors opened, I went in. So did the kids. Apparently we'd missed the cue that Shane doesn't ride in elevators with others cause he was still standing out there with the tray of food. I just said quickly, "It's a busy morning, they're all gonna be full." so he reluctantly stepped inside and faced the side wall.
Uh, weird?! When he looked at me I gave him the face to "turn around retard!" so he did, but then got mad at me for making him feel stupid! Off to a great start.
At the park we did better together, but the second ride we went on was California Screamin' and afterword, Shane got really sick. I was a little irritated that he couldn't pull himself together, but sent him back to the hotel because there was no way he was gonna make it. Guess what? We still had some family issues without him, but for the most part, fought quite a bit less. I didn't go back to the hotel until after 3 to get him.
He was better after that and we were able to do several things that evening, including the World of Color show, which has it's own issues. Sorry Disney, I'm disappointed. Maybe it just didn't live up to the hype, but we waited in that line just to get into the show for over an hour. Standing. Again. Once the show started, my kids couldn't see it! They won't let people sit, so when other peoples kids can't see, parents just hop them right up on their shoulders. I decided to move, was directed to a spot and when that didn't work out very well I asked another one of the employees, "Hey, my kids can't see, is there a better place for us to try?" She shrugged her shoulders and said she didn't know what to tell me. When that happened, I just couldn't deal anymore. Everything is such an emotional toll. The show was fine, but in no way did it even come close to comparing to Fantasmic. In my opinion, shot it out of the water. We did end up seeing ok, I guess. Another worker tried to help me after that one girl, but I was a little beyond pulling it together.
The lesson that we learned that day was that the killer is standing. It just plain hurts. Every morning, & afternoon for that matter, after a good rest, the tired legs & sore feet are tolerable but after 20 minutes of standing you just wear out, fast.
So Wednesday, right. We thought we would finish up in California Adventure in the morning and hit Disneyland after the afternoon break. We were able to accomplish this pretty well and time must be healing the wounds cause I don't remember specific fights right now. Although, I'm sure there were several.
I remember the morning and getting there right as the park opened. We wanted to get straight to the Toy Story Mania ride right away because I knew that line would get long fast. Holy crap though! It lined up so insanely fast, even though we were there right when they opened, right when they untied the ropes, when we got to the line it was 2 hours long already. That's just crazy. Instead we lounged about the park a bit, did some less popular rides and worked our way back to Toy Story, where we still had to wait over an hour, but it was a fun ride.
That night, we went back to Disney and did a couple of the things we hadn't done yet. We were able to get the Autopia ride out of the way, which I'm glad we did cause it had so many technical issues as it was. The next day when we walked past they were only running one lane of cars out of 4. No wonder that line gets out of control! We also got to do the Finding Nemo Submarine that night. I have to say that as a small kid I remember the submarine ride and I remember that we went on it at night. I was so glad to hear they brought a submarine ride back to the park! This ride brought back a lot of memories for me & it was awesome besides.
We called it quits after that for the night. Thursday was to be our "Magic Morning" so we headed back to the hotel early. Though there was some issue with the bus system that night, after 45 minutes on the bus, didn't end up turning in very early after all.
The "Magic Morning" :
The tickets we bought included one magic morning, as I'm sure everyone's did. It was to open an hour before the rest of the park & feature certain attractions in both Tomorrowland and Fantasyland. So we had saved most of Tomorrowland for this day. It worked out well because we were able to get into the Star Wars ride pretty fast and almost walk onto both Buzz Lightyear & Space Mountain. Shane decided that rather than ride Space Mountain, he would get us a Fast Pass at Indiana Jones. This worked really well also. By the way, Space Mountain wound up being my all time favorite. I remembered why as a kid I loved it so much! It was closed the last time we were at the park and so I'm glad I got to experience it as an adult!
That morning we got to do a few of our favorites once more like Pirates and Haunted Mansion and Thunder Mountain Railroad. We also got a bit of shopping in, though we hadn't been clear with the kids on souvenirs, which we would pay for later.
By noon our legs were giving in again and it was hot. Dave & Angie were coming down to meet us for dinner that evening at Buca. This is what I thought the plan was: I thought we'd call it early since we'd started early, we wanted to be rested for dinner and also fresh. Then once they headed out we would come back to the park for some nighttime rides and etc. It was, after all, the last night we would be there.
I guess I don't know if we communicated all of these words so much or if it was more implied. I don't know if the kids just didn't think about it or if they saw an opportunity for something else. I don't know if I was unrealistic or what exactly, but I take full responsibility for Thursday night and whatever infamy it will have in our future. This is what happened.
We ate a little for lunch. The TV got turned on. The kids went down to the pool. I knew I was tired and I knew that it would be a late night so I went in to bed. I slept for a good 2 hours or more. The kids weren't gone for quite that long, but when they came up they didn't lay down at all. I was the only one who had a nap that afternoon. Then I showered and got ready for the dinner, which was lovely. It was great to see D&A again and the girls. We had a great dinner. So glad we did that! They came back up to the room for a bit and were impressed.
After they left, I was rearing to go! But Ty looked like he could fall over at any minute, Paige looked tired as well. But I was geared up and ready for the park. As I write this I know that I should have been a mom at that point. I know that I should have sent those kids to bed and been done with the whole thing. I asked twice before we left if Ty thought he would make it, he said yes, but only so not to disappoint me. Which I feel bad about now.
I thought we'd been clear on the plans and as such expected my family to know and recognize their limits also. I knew mine which is why I napped. When we got to the park and no one wanted to do anything, I just got mad. What a waste. I didn't buy the 5 day ticket so that we could spend till noon at the park and the rest of the day at the hotel pool! We can swim at home! We rode all your favorite rides twice, why couldn't I get to ride my fave twice? Because the wait wasn't worth it, that's why. I'll admit to being a beast that night. I knew we were ruining the whole damn thing, but none of us possessed any power at all to stop it from happening.
45 minutes after arriving at the park, we left. It took a long time to get back again, though I don't remember why this time. I watched the park close from the balcony while everyone else was in bed, sleeping soundly.
Friday morning arrived. Like it or not this was the last day. We were a bit beyond starting crazy early but managed to get packed up and out the door pretty well. We even made a pact to simply have a good day and end on a good note.
We did ride Space Mountain again and finish everything that we wanted to. Mostly. I had promised an autograph of Snow White's to the girl babysitting the cats at home and we hadn't seen her all week so that added a bit of pressure, but when we decided to abandon it, it helped.
We spent most of the day shopping for souvenirs, which were elusive. Neither Shane or I had found the things we wanted to jump out at us. Of course, everything jumped out at the kids, so we'd been buying stuff all week and blowing some things off all together. When I found the thing I wanted most, I was unprepared for the pricetag, but Shane insisted I get it anyway. This, of course, put a dejected look on Paige's face which is how the ball starts rolling.
Ty will have nothing else, not at all, we've spent too much on him already, he's just grateful to be here. J's souvenir was the same price as mine so we're all square there. Shane finds what he wants and that's good but there was something we saw this morning that was cute. If I can just find it and get it for Paige, this whole thing goes away! Cant quite remember what it was... can't quite remember where I saw it. Running out of time... run here... run there. Aha! I remember what it was, can I find it anywhere? Of course not.
In the last 10 minutes of our time in the park, we have the biggest meltdown yet, all over a stupid souvenir that Paige didn't even know she had to have or why. The really hard part of it was that the way the rest of the afternoon went, there was time to find it and buy it twice and leave the park thanking it for the wonderful memories and a heartfelt goodbye. Instead we left so angry at each other and embarrassed to be around one another. Ty covered his ears at me and I hit him. Paige and Shane screamed at each other 2 or 3 times. And Jordan just tried to evaporate from our presence. Who can blame him?
After checking out at the hotel, we waited for our shuttle to the airport. That man was very professional and helpful. I would recommend him. Before we even knew it, we were back on a plane and headed home.
The kids now say they had a good time, but I am confident that there will be some roasting about this vacation in years to come. I know now what I should have done differently. My next post will be about pointers and advice, what's worth it and what's not. I hope that we didn't ruin Disney for our kids, but the hard truth is that we might have. It really is the Happiest Place On Earth, but there are tricks to enduring the magic. And each other.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Dear Jesse~
It is now deep into the long hours of the night. The part of the day that I love the very most. The only problem I have when I am so enjoying the stillness of the night is that it makes me miss you. I miss coffee at 3 am. I miss talking to you and laughing. There are very few things that I want to return to that time period for, in fact there are no things I want to return for, except you.
I have blocked out so many memories of those miserable high school days! I'll tell you what I do remember. I remember the day we met. I laughed so hard that day; there was a party, a trampoline, a park, and you. Some other people were there, but I only remember a couple of them. It is an interesting memory, like in the movies: yours is the only face that is in focus.
Then school started, and you were there! I know I was shocked to see you again, but the truth was, I was kinda elated. That connection was awesome and I wanted to keep getting to know you. I don't remember having very many classes together, but during every assembly you were by my side or very nearby.
I remember dating the guy you hated most in the whole world, and I didn't listen to you about him. When I did date someone else in the school, you stood up for me. I always appreciated that, even though all my girlfriends wanted me to be mad at you for doing it. I probably never told you how grateful I was to you for that.
Remember the notes we wrote?!! Oh the non-stop notes! If only I had been able to take such copious notes in English! You were so funny, and you listened to me in all those notes. Every single thing I went through back then, you got me through.
Remember your old little white car? You always drove with your head pushed back against the headrest. I wonder if you still do that? It kinda made me crazy, a little. Now though I think you were kinda adorable. What a funny thing to hang onto for so long.
I remember all those long walks you took with me around the river, and how I couldn't walk on the outside of the sidewalk, because you were protecting me. Then I thought it was silly, but now when someone does it for me or I see it done, I always think of you and smile. Thank you for loving me then.
I remember a little about an outdoor dance in the parking lot once. It's not a super happy memory, I probably screwed that day up. The DJ played a song by Will Smith and the air was red. It doesn't make sense.
These are my most important and sacred memories of you. That awkward period of time when I was keeping my biggest secret ever, you and I sat in the hallway at school in front of my locker. You were the only one I told for the longest time. I was so relieved to have a friend be so trustworthy and loyal. Any single one of my girlfriends would have gossiped about it in the bathroom. Actually, I can still hear your voice in my head after I told you. You said my name in such a scandalous way, taking the pressure off of me and the moment and giving me the permission I needed to open up to you completely.
Then the day after D died. This is the most vivid. It plays out in my mind so clearly, it's haunting. Sometimes I dream it. When I found out I could think of nothing else but finding you. I needed you and I liked to imagine that you needed me too, that day. I don't know if you did. I still think of you every time I drive by the house that we spent the day at then. I don't know why we were there, though. Nor do I even know whose house it was. I had found you, I needed you and I clung to that need, even though parts of us were already starting to unravel.
After the funeral, I fell for you. Really I did, but there was nothing for us then. I was too afraid of others judging us and of losing you, which now I see as such a contradiction because I ended up losing you anyway. We had already lost too much. As awful as that day was, it's the one I want back the most because I would do it differently. I would have stayed with you, damn the consequences. I loved you. I promise. And I'm so sorry I wasn't as loyal to you as you were to me.
Finally, the day. That stupid, awful, no good, dirty, rotten day. I remember saying such an awful thing to you about your family. Why on earth would I do that? I still don't even know. I meant it different than it sounded, but even then it was awful. Apologies weren't enough to mend the damage. Our rift was too wide and I know not all of that was my doing, but much of it was and I want you to know how much I truly regret that.
I remember visiting you once on Catherine. I hope I said meaningful things that day. I wanted to try. I didn't really expect you to want to carry that much baggage, but part of me hoped. I know things are the way they are for a reason.
And now, deep into the night, when I breathe deep, the crisp scent in the air carries me to you. Not anyone else. You. All these years, I have found love and happiness, and I hope you have too, but you are my greatest "what if". I write this letter in some form about once a year. I never send it, I never find you. It is better for all, I am sure, and I don't want to disrupt whatever harmony I hope you have created for yourself, but I hope that some day we can share another memory together. Some day.
I miss you. I love you. Always.
I have blocked out so many memories of those miserable high school days! I'll tell you what I do remember. I remember the day we met. I laughed so hard that day; there was a party, a trampoline, a park, and you. Some other people were there, but I only remember a couple of them. It is an interesting memory, like in the movies: yours is the only face that is in focus.
Then school started, and you were there! I know I was shocked to see you again, but the truth was, I was kinda elated. That connection was awesome and I wanted to keep getting to know you. I don't remember having very many classes together, but during every assembly you were by my side or very nearby.
I remember dating the guy you hated most in the whole world, and I didn't listen to you about him. When I did date someone else in the school, you stood up for me. I always appreciated that, even though all my girlfriends wanted me to be mad at you for doing it. I probably never told you how grateful I was to you for that.
Remember the notes we wrote?!! Oh the non-stop notes! If only I had been able to take such copious notes in English! You were so funny, and you listened to me in all those notes. Every single thing I went through back then, you got me through.
Remember your old little white car? You always drove with your head pushed back against the headrest. I wonder if you still do that? It kinda made me crazy, a little. Now though I think you were kinda adorable. What a funny thing to hang onto for so long.
I remember all those long walks you took with me around the river, and how I couldn't walk on the outside of the sidewalk, because you were protecting me. Then I thought it was silly, but now when someone does it for me or I see it done, I always think of you and smile. Thank you for loving me then.
I remember a little about an outdoor dance in the parking lot once. It's not a super happy memory, I probably screwed that day up. The DJ played a song by Will Smith and the air was red. It doesn't make sense.
These are my most important and sacred memories of you. That awkward period of time when I was keeping my biggest secret ever, you and I sat in the hallway at school in front of my locker. You were the only one I told for the longest time. I was so relieved to have a friend be so trustworthy and loyal. Any single one of my girlfriends would have gossiped about it in the bathroom. Actually, I can still hear your voice in my head after I told you. You said my name in such a scandalous way, taking the pressure off of me and the moment and giving me the permission I needed to open up to you completely.
Then the day after D died. This is the most vivid. It plays out in my mind so clearly, it's haunting. Sometimes I dream it. When I found out I could think of nothing else but finding you. I needed you and I liked to imagine that you needed me too, that day. I don't know if you did. I still think of you every time I drive by the house that we spent the day at then. I don't know why we were there, though. Nor do I even know whose house it was. I had found you, I needed you and I clung to that need, even though parts of us were already starting to unravel.
After the funeral, I fell for you. Really I did, but there was nothing for us then. I was too afraid of others judging us and of losing you, which now I see as such a contradiction because I ended up losing you anyway. We had already lost too much. As awful as that day was, it's the one I want back the most because I would do it differently. I would have stayed with you, damn the consequences. I loved you. I promise. And I'm so sorry I wasn't as loyal to you as you were to me.
Finally, the day. That stupid, awful, no good, dirty, rotten day. I remember saying such an awful thing to you about your family. Why on earth would I do that? I still don't even know. I meant it different than it sounded, but even then it was awful. Apologies weren't enough to mend the damage. Our rift was too wide and I know not all of that was my doing, but much of it was and I want you to know how much I truly regret that.
I remember visiting you once on Catherine. I hope I said meaningful things that day. I wanted to try. I didn't really expect you to want to carry that much baggage, but part of me hoped. I know things are the way they are for a reason.
And now, deep into the night, when I breathe deep, the crisp scent in the air carries me to you. Not anyone else. You. All these years, I have found love and happiness, and I hope you have too, but you are my greatest "what if". I write this letter in some form about once a year. I never send it, I never find you. It is better for all, I am sure, and I don't want to disrupt whatever harmony I hope you have created for yourself, but I hope that some day we can share another memory together. Some day.
I miss you. I love you. Always.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Reflections
I have a very dear friend whose mother passed away last week. It has been a terribly frustrating and painful ordeal for the last two years as she has been sick. In watching and hearing about her prognosis, and her passing, it caused me to reflect on a couple of things.
First…
I never really think about men being the lovers and nurturers. It’s the women who take on that role usually, right? (ie: Tim the Tool Man Taylor or Red Foreman…the epitome of un-romantic yet have an unmistakable love for their wives) So what is it that brought your parents together? I’ll try to illustrate…
1- The other day, my husband and I were out. We stopped to get a soda at a convenience store. Since the surgery, I’m a little slow so he asks if I want him to just go in and get mine for me. I say yes, if you wouldn’t mind. He says back, “Nope. I’ll take care of ya. Always do.” And he does.
2- My friends’ mom had Lou Gehrig’s disease, so there wasn’t any getting better. After things started to become apparent, there was naturally some reminicing going on. My friend has started to think about her childhood with her mom and some of the conversations that they have had. Her dad has also mentioned some of the things going on in his head. While he has been taking care of her night and day, he has also been looking back over their past together. It is so apparent that this man has so much love for his wife!
3- My own parents who have shared a life together for 33+ years, have some similar interests, but to be honest, not very many. I had been married nearly 7 years before he began bringing her flowers for any reason (like mother’s day). Once or twice a year, my mom goes to scrapbooking crops for at least a week at a time (at a neighbor’s house, no less). During this time she eats and sleeps there. Sometimes she comments that everyone else talks to their husbands at various times (like before bed and stuff) and her husband never calls her. But at the same time she doesn’t call him.
Now, I’m not trying to make them out to be a bad couple or have less love or romance than anyone else. This is simply real life. I know my parents love each other. What’s more, I know that my dad loves my mom.
I have stood by and watched both of my grandpas out-live their wives, so I haven’t noticed very often it be the other way around. I never really put much stock in it until this last time, when the man who taught me how to ride a motorcycle lost his wife and tearfully commented that no one would ever be as good as his wife was.
It’s love. It’s not syrupy. It’s real. There’s no background music. It has ups and downs and we all express it differently, and a lot of it is protected much of the time. But it is there. It’s what brings people together in the beginning and keeps them together through mid-life crises and menopause and stupidity.
And men love. It’s not the way we romanticize it to be, but it’s there and it must be enough, because we love them right back.
Second…
Contrary to my first post about motherhood…
I have been so lucky to have tremendous mothers throughout my life. The women who I called “mom” during my childhood and adolescence, well, God bless them!
In the neighborhood that I grew up in, there were 6 girls my age and in my primary class. We had slumber parties and swimming lessons and 4-H together. We rode bikes forever and had meals at whose ever house we landed at that day. In short I had 6 moms, at least.
On the first day of seventh grade, I made a new friend and we were instantly inseparable. We spent every day together, and it is her mom who passed away last week. This woman influenced my life every day. She loved me like I was a member of the family, took me camping for weeks at a time, bandaged me up that day when dad taught me how to ride the motorcycle and I ran it straight into a tree. She bought us matching pajamas, took us to lunch, taught me how to eat crab, paid for fake nails and took us to craft fairs where I learned about all things handmade. When we got into trouble, we were in trouble with two sets of parents, each serving two consequences because it would be hell at both places for at least a while! Oh, and we deserved it! (But it was usually worth it, too!)
And over the years a few more “moms” were involved in my life. There was the mom who never came home for lunch. Except on that one day when about 5 of us had decided to sluff for the afternoon and we went to her house. Right in the middle of feasting on chips and dip and whatever else was in the fridge we saw mom pull into the driveway. There was a general “Oh, shit!” amongst us as we all scrambled into the bedroom and tried our best to blend into a wall. Well, in our haste, every single one of us had forgotten all the food on the coffee table in the middle of the livingroom! (BTW, I realized this week that this is Natasha’s house, as I now live in the neighborhood that a lot of my high school friends grew up in!!!) --Ahhh! Good times!
Now in my life I have an aunt who I have grown very close to. In a very real way, she too has become a mom to me. I find great comfort in her council and opinions. She has in-laws who are very similar to mine and as we commiserate together, we grow closer. I know that she loves me.
Let me not overlook my mom (my real mom) here. She has provided for me and protected me. She has been mom to each of those mentioned here and sometimes more. I have put her through more than her share of hell and she deserves credit for surviving it. Really she deserves a plaque or a T-shirt or something. A real “I survived Beka's Adolescence 1977-1997” tribute to faith and fortitude (aided by prozac).
I know that my mom feels the same way that I do about motherhood, and my only hope is that I don’t really remember a lot of the things that she beat herself up about. I know for a fact that parenting isn’t perfect, or easy. But I for one am so grateful to have had the moms in my life to teach me along the way.
I’ve been so lucky and so spoiled, and such a snot to not have realized it before.
First…
I never really think about men being the lovers and nurturers. It’s the women who take on that role usually, right? (ie: Tim the Tool Man Taylor or Red Foreman…the epitome of un-romantic yet have an unmistakable love for their wives) So what is it that brought your parents together? I’ll try to illustrate…
1- The other day, my husband and I were out. We stopped to get a soda at a convenience store. Since the surgery, I’m a little slow so he asks if I want him to just go in and get mine for me. I say yes, if you wouldn’t mind. He says back, “Nope. I’ll take care of ya. Always do.” And he does.
2- My friends’ mom had Lou Gehrig’s disease, so there wasn’t any getting better. After things started to become apparent, there was naturally some reminicing going on. My friend has started to think about her childhood with her mom and some of the conversations that they have had. Her dad has also mentioned some of the things going on in his head. While he has been taking care of her night and day, he has also been looking back over their past together. It is so apparent that this man has so much love for his wife!
3- My own parents who have shared a life together for 33+ years, have some similar interests, but to be honest, not very many. I had been married nearly 7 years before he began bringing her flowers for any reason (like mother’s day). Once or twice a year, my mom goes to scrapbooking crops for at least a week at a time (at a neighbor’s house, no less). During this time she eats and sleeps there. Sometimes she comments that everyone else talks to their husbands at various times (like before bed and stuff) and her husband never calls her. But at the same time she doesn’t call him.
Now, I’m not trying to make them out to be a bad couple or have less love or romance than anyone else. This is simply real life. I know my parents love each other. What’s more, I know that my dad loves my mom.
I have stood by and watched both of my grandpas out-live their wives, so I haven’t noticed very often it be the other way around. I never really put much stock in it until this last time, when the man who taught me how to ride a motorcycle lost his wife and tearfully commented that no one would ever be as good as his wife was.
It’s love. It’s not syrupy. It’s real. There’s no background music. It has ups and downs and we all express it differently, and a lot of it is protected much of the time. But it is there. It’s what brings people together in the beginning and keeps them together through mid-life crises and menopause and stupidity.
And men love. It’s not the way we romanticize it to be, but it’s there and it must be enough, because we love them right back.
Second…
Contrary to my first post about motherhood…
I have been so lucky to have tremendous mothers throughout my life. The women who I called “mom” during my childhood and adolescence, well, God bless them!
In the neighborhood that I grew up in, there were 6 girls my age and in my primary class. We had slumber parties and swimming lessons and 4-H together. We rode bikes forever and had meals at whose ever house we landed at that day. In short I had 6 moms, at least.
On the first day of seventh grade, I made a new friend and we were instantly inseparable. We spent every day together, and it is her mom who passed away last week. This woman influenced my life every day. She loved me like I was a member of the family, took me camping for weeks at a time, bandaged me up that day when dad taught me how to ride the motorcycle and I ran it straight into a tree. She bought us matching pajamas, took us to lunch, taught me how to eat crab, paid for fake nails and took us to craft fairs where I learned about all things handmade. When we got into trouble, we were in trouble with two sets of parents, each serving two consequences because it would be hell at both places for at least a while! Oh, and we deserved it! (But it was usually worth it, too!)
And over the years a few more “moms” were involved in my life. There was the mom who never came home for lunch. Except on that one day when about 5 of us had decided to sluff for the afternoon and we went to her house. Right in the middle of feasting on chips and dip and whatever else was in the fridge we saw mom pull into the driveway. There was a general “Oh, shit!” amongst us as we all scrambled into the bedroom and tried our best to blend into a wall. Well, in our haste, every single one of us had forgotten all the food on the coffee table in the middle of the livingroom! (BTW, I realized this week that this is Natasha’s house, as I now live in the neighborhood that a lot of my high school friends grew up in!!!) --Ahhh! Good times!
Now in my life I have an aunt who I have grown very close to. In a very real way, she too has become a mom to me. I find great comfort in her council and opinions. She has in-laws who are very similar to mine and as we commiserate together, we grow closer. I know that she loves me.
Let me not overlook my mom (my real mom) here. She has provided for me and protected me. She has been mom to each of those mentioned here and sometimes more. I have put her through more than her share of hell and she deserves credit for surviving it. Really she deserves a plaque or a T-shirt or something. A real “I survived Beka's Adolescence 1977-1997” tribute to faith and fortitude (aided by prozac).
I know that my mom feels the same way that I do about motherhood, and my only hope is that I don’t really remember a lot of the things that she beat herself up about. I know for a fact that parenting isn’t perfect, or easy. But I for one am so grateful to have had the moms in my life to teach me along the way.
I’ve been so lucky and so spoiled, and such a snot to not have realized it before.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Happy Mother's Day?
Mother’s Day
Happy Mother's Day to all! Remember last year? I know that more than a few moms had a rough go last year, and I thought I'd repost this gem hoping that we can all laugh about it now!
I don’t remember many of them. They come and go and in the middle of the rest of those 364, they get a little lost. I remember various gifts and cards, but not many events.
Until today. I have a feeling that today will etch itself deeply within my memories. It will haunt me for the remainder of my days and though I will try to suppress it, the sights and smells will come to me more clearly than most others.
The first problem with Mother’s Day is that it’s on a Sunday. When else could it be, right? I mean the nation isn’t going to start giving women the day off on say a Wednesday. Then we’d have to do the same thing for Father’s Day, etc. Blah, blah, blah.
Saturdays are out because… well, I don’t know why exactly, but laundry and grocery shopping come to mind.
Now let’s not forget that we moms want nothing more than a leisurely day, with “Happy Mother’s Day” repeated hardly more than once. We’d like to get out of bed at a time of our choosing, dress without concern and also visit our own mothers with little fuss. We’d like to hear minimal bickering amongst the children on this day and bickering initiated by another adult should be a crime.
I imagine that many women enjoy some small likeness to this description. I, however, am a happy member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and motherhood is not only sacred it is to be celebrated. The children practice special songs for weeks to sing to moms during Sacrament Meeting. The speakers present talks about mothers. Flowers or small gifts are given to moms at the end of the service. It is glorious and thoughtful, sweet and generous.
The second problem with Mother’s Day is really all the pressure that’s put upon us. Implied pressure, of course, and all self-inflicted. It’s nice to have the recognition and we are grateful for the honor, don’t get me wrong. But is there a woman out there who feels like she’s proud of her “mothering”? Of course not, because other women could not be her friend. It’s written somewhere in the handbook of rules, I’m sure.
So, it’s like the line in A Christmas Story where Ralphie says of his mother that she “hadn’t had a hot meal since…” I don’t know what the line really is –I actually hate that movie, but you get the point. This is what we do. Motherhood is our occupation, and children are our duties. Whether we do it well or not, that’s not the point. Having a day to honor us for a job well done makes us have to stop and analyze if we are doing a good job.
Not to mention there’s the fact that most women wanted to have children in their lifetimes. God thoughtfully gave us those children and we love them. With all our hearts, we love them. Would be devastated without them. Now, we must feel guilty for those brief fleeting moments when we wonder why we wanted to do this.
Church, though well intentioned, is the perfect place for self-examination and retrospect. I do hope that next year someone will remind me to stay home!
I will say that my whole day was doomed due to my highly sinful addiction to caffeine and the fact that I had not consumed any on the day before Mother’s Day. Naturally I awoke to my head exploding with each new heartbeat. Excruciating. Couple that with 9 am church…oh yeah, it’s gonna be good!
After stumbling to the medicine cabinet and crying out to the Gods of Pain Relievers, I debated the possibility of sluffing. Admittedly, it wasn’t much of a debate though because each new throb of pain pulsing through my head brought the argument like a bulleted power point presentation.
§ Kids will be singing
§ Throb
§ You already missed “Muffins with Mom”
§ Throb
§ Don’t want to disappoint
§ Throb
§ God gave you children, don’t be an ingrate.
§ Throb
Let’s be honest. We know who won the debate.
I guess I don’t know how best to deal with those first-of-the-morning headaches, but on any other day of the week I would have slept it off. So, after my shower, I closed my eyes again for a few minutes and tried desperately to breathe and relax long enough for some relief. It was not my speediest attempt at getting ready for church.
I think we left the house between 8:57 and 9:02, not bad. Doesn’t matter. We were late.
It is the Ackerschott’s customary practice for S to drive us to church, stop at the closest entrance and let us out, then he goes and parks the car around back while we choose a seat. It should also be noted here that 1) S does not like to sit in the overflow of the chapel and 2) I notoriously make poor decisions when entering late (poor according to S).
Knowing these two facts I waited outside the chapel doors with the kids for S. I thought that he should go in first and I would follow so that I (on this day) wouldn’t make a bad decision.
You’ll be jealous of the very mature and educated commentary that followed:
“You go first and choose.”
“No, you go.”
“No you.”
“No you.”
“No.”
“Fine.”
And that my friends is how I walked in with my family trailing behind during the opening song. In search of an available pew somewhere, I am charged with the responsibility of asking a small family to move clear almost to the other side of a middle pew to make room for us…I chicken out. I can’t do that! What verse is it? Hurry up, everyone’s staring!
I wander a little further up and there’s nothing. Like a fish out of water I am. The song could end any minute.
Paige says there’s a bench up there and relieved to have someone to follow I say, “Let’s go there.”
Well, ladies and gentlemen, it is indeed the front row. Nothing in front of us but the pulpit. Nowhere to hide from the watchful eyes of the bishopric. When a speaker stand for his talk, we’ll be craning our necks up at him, closer than the front row at the movie theater, albeit a smaller screen.
During the last verse of the opening song, we sit. There’s enough music left for the brief conversation about how dreadful a decision it is and this one comment, “It’s not my fault we were late.”
I’m going to let that marinate for a minute, because even in retelling the account it needs to resonate in the air for a while.
What to do?
I thought I should leave. Just get up and walk out. Go. Who needs this?
No. I came. It was difficult, but I got here to hear the kids sing. Leave after that.
No. Won’t that freak them out unnecessarily? This is neither the time or the place for this.
--You can see how I wrestled with how to proceed.
I continued my internal argument for several minutes hearing nothing. Seeing nothing.
And then my crescendo: The sacrament prayer. For me this is when it ended. For those poor suckers on the stand, it’s where it began! The show and the waterworks would come and continue for the remainder of the meeting! I could not stop. My head was out of control and everything came at me in those few minutes. The guilt over missing “Muffins”; the speaker talking about an iconic mother: Mary; the stress of entertaining the day before; the fact that I’m in the front row; the pending results of a biopsy and all that it implies; my husband’s a jerk and oh yeah, I’m on the front row unable to control myself…on Mother’s Day!
I searched my bag for something else to do. Nothing. I repeated lines from sitcoms in my head. Still rolling tears, lots of nose wiping.
I vowed to relax and leave as soon as the singing would be over. I promised myself that I would pull myself together enough that I wouldn’t be a spectacle as I walked from the front and down the isle to the door, the only shield I could possibly have is a paper bag over my head and try as I might, there wasn’t one of those in my bag, either!
Finally, it was time and I still hadn’t made much progress. The adorable little children slowly gathered on the stand. For many it was their first time. They smiled shyly and looked for their moms and waved. Then as their bright smiling eyes passed over me their sweet faces fell and the look they wore was now shock. It was only for a brief moment for most of them, looking again for their own moms in the crowd. My sweet and adorable children, however, were treated to quite a sight from their mom. Let the singing commence:
“Mother dear, I love you so. Your happy smiling face.”
Silent Sobs.
“You’re such a joy to look at, you make home a lovely place.”
It’s a freaking nightmare, okay! I had pulled through the headache to see the singing. I had endured the knife in my back for the children’s faces. And here in front of the children’s faces with nothing to protect them, was me. Front row: terrifying the children.
More tears.
And now, I couldn’t leave again because I had to shield myself from the one or two people in the back who hadn’t caught on to my humiliation yet. There might’ve been someone who didn’t have a kid on their lap right then saying, “What’s wrong with Sister A?”
And following the next very painful twenty minutes or so (during a talk given by a man whose talk I bawled through the last time he spoke) all the mothers were asked to stand so that they could be given a flower that the youth would hand out. My oldest son quickly brought me an appropriate red petunia and I ran for the door!
P.S. I am now caffeinated and feeling much better.
P.P.S. I do still love my husband, but sometimes I don’t like him. But, like sacrament meeting, it may be with our teeth clenched and too many witnesses to hurt each other, but we’ll make it! When I wrote this, I was still mad. When I typed it, it got a little funnier. Here’s to time healing all wounds.
Happy Mother's Day to all! Remember last year? I know that more than a few moms had a rough go last year, and I thought I'd repost this gem hoping that we can all laugh about it now!
I don’t remember many of them. They come and go and in the middle of the rest of those 364, they get a little lost. I remember various gifts and cards, but not many events.
Until today. I have a feeling that today will etch itself deeply within my memories. It will haunt me for the remainder of my days and though I will try to suppress it, the sights and smells will come to me more clearly than most others.
The first problem with Mother’s Day is that it’s on a Sunday. When else could it be, right? I mean the nation isn’t going to start giving women the day off on say a Wednesday. Then we’d have to do the same thing for Father’s Day, etc. Blah, blah, blah.
Saturdays are out because… well, I don’t know why exactly, but laundry and grocery shopping come to mind.
Now let’s not forget that we moms want nothing more than a leisurely day, with “Happy Mother’s Day” repeated hardly more than once. We’d like to get out of bed at a time of our choosing, dress without concern and also visit our own mothers with little fuss. We’d like to hear minimal bickering amongst the children on this day and bickering initiated by another adult should be a crime.
I imagine that many women enjoy some small likeness to this description. I, however, am a happy member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and motherhood is not only sacred it is to be celebrated. The children practice special songs for weeks to sing to moms during Sacrament Meeting. The speakers present talks about mothers. Flowers or small gifts are given to moms at the end of the service. It is glorious and thoughtful, sweet and generous.
The second problem with Mother’s Day is really all the pressure that’s put upon us. Implied pressure, of course, and all self-inflicted. It’s nice to have the recognition and we are grateful for the honor, don’t get me wrong. But is there a woman out there who feels like she’s proud of her “mothering”? Of course not, because other women could not be her friend. It’s written somewhere in the handbook of rules, I’m sure.
So, it’s like the line in A Christmas Story where Ralphie says of his mother that she “hadn’t had a hot meal since…” I don’t know what the line really is –I actually hate that movie, but you get the point. This is what we do. Motherhood is our occupation, and children are our duties. Whether we do it well or not, that’s not the point. Having a day to honor us for a job well done makes us have to stop and analyze if we are doing a good job.
Not to mention there’s the fact that most women wanted to have children in their lifetimes. God thoughtfully gave us those children and we love them. With all our hearts, we love them. Would be devastated without them. Now, we must feel guilty for those brief fleeting moments when we wonder why we wanted to do this.
Church, though well intentioned, is the perfect place for self-examination and retrospect. I do hope that next year someone will remind me to stay home!
I will say that my whole day was doomed due to my highly sinful addiction to caffeine and the fact that I had not consumed any on the day before Mother’s Day. Naturally I awoke to my head exploding with each new heartbeat. Excruciating. Couple that with 9 am church…oh yeah, it’s gonna be good!
After stumbling to the medicine cabinet and crying out to the Gods of Pain Relievers, I debated the possibility of sluffing. Admittedly, it wasn’t much of a debate though because each new throb of pain pulsing through my head brought the argument like a bulleted power point presentation.
§ Kids will be singing
§ Throb
§ You already missed “Muffins with Mom”
§ Throb
§ Don’t want to disappoint
§ Throb
§ God gave you children, don’t be an ingrate.
§ Throb
Let’s be honest. We know who won the debate.
I guess I don’t know how best to deal with those first-of-the-morning headaches, but on any other day of the week I would have slept it off. So, after my shower, I closed my eyes again for a few minutes and tried desperately to breathe and relax long enough for some relief. It was not my speediest attempt at getting ready for church.
I think we left the house between 8:57 and 9:02, not bad. Doesn’t matter. We were late.
It is the Ackerschott’s customary practice for S to drive us to church, stop at the closest entrance and let us out, then he goes and parks the car around back while we choose a seat. It should also be noted here that 1) S does not like to sit in the overflow of the chapel and 2) I notoriously make poor decisions when entering late (poor according to S).
Knowing these two facts I waited outside the chapel doors with the kids for S. I thought that he should go in first and I would follow so that I (on this day) wouldn’t make a bad decision.
You’ll be jealous of the very mature and educated commentary that followed:
“You go first and choose.”
“No, you go.”
“No you.”
“No you.”
“No.”
“Fine.”
And that my friends is how I walked in with my family trailing behind during the opening song. In search of an available pew somewhere, I am charged with the responsibility of asking a small family to move clear almost to the other side of a middle pew to make room for us…I chicken out. I can’t do that! What verse is it? Hurry up, everyone’s staring!
I wander a little further up and there’s nothing. Like a fish out of water I am. The song could end any minute.
Paige says there’s a bench up there and relieved to have someone to follow I say, “Let’s go there.”
Well, ladies and gentlemen, it is indeed the front row. Nothing in front of us but the pulpit. Nowhere to hide from the watchful eyes of the bishopric. When a speaker stand for his talk, we’ll be craning our necks up at him, closer than the front row at the movie theater, albeit a smaller screen.
During the last verse of the opening song, we sit. There’s enough music left for the brief conversation about how dreadful a decision it is and this one comment, “It’s not my fault we were late.”
I’m going to let that marinate for a minute, because even in retelling the account it needs to resonate in the air for a while.
What to do?
I thought I should leave. Just get up and walk out. Go. Who needs this?
No. I came. It was difficult, but I got here to hear the kids sing. Leave after that.
No. Won’t that freak them out unnecessarily? This is neither the time or the place for this.
--You can see how I wrestled with how to proceed.
I continued my internal argument for several minutes hearing nothing. Seeing nothing.
And then my crescendo: The sacrament prayer. For me this is when it ended. For those poor suckers on the stand, it’s where it began! The show and the waterworks would come and continue for the remainder of the meeting! I could not stop. My head was out of control and everything came at me in those few minutes. The guilt over missing “Muffins”; the speaker talking about an iconic mother: Mary; the stress of entertaining the day before; the fact that I’m in the front row; the pending results of a biopsy and all that it implies; my husband’s a jerk and oh yeah, I’m on the front row unable to control myself…on Mother’s Day!
I searched my bag for something else to do. Nothing. I repeated lines from sitcoms in my head. Still rolling tears, lots of nose wiping.
I vowed to relax and leave as soon as the singing would be over. I promised myself that I would pull myself together enough that I wouldn’t be a spectacle as I walked from the front and down the isle to the door, the only shield I could possibly have is a paper bag over my head and try as I might, there wasn’t one of those in my bag, either!
Finally, it was time and I still hadn’t made much progress. The adorable little children slowly gathered on the stand. For many it was their first time. They smiled shyly and looked for their moms and waved. Then as their bright smiling eyes passed over me their sweet faces fell and the look they wore was now shock. It was only for a brief moment for most of them, looking again for their own moms in the crowd. My sweet and adorable children, however, were treated to quite a sight from their mom. Let the singing commence:
“Mother dear, I love you so. Your happy smiling face.”
Silent Sobs.
“You’re such a joy to look at, you make home a lovely place.”
It’s a freaking nightmare, okay! I had pulled through the headache to see the singing. I had endured the knife in my back for the children’s faces. And here in front of the children’s faces with nothing to protect them, was me. Front row: terrifying the children.
More tears.
And now, I couldn’t leave again because I had to shield myself from the one or two people in the back who hadn’t caught on to my humiliation yet. There might’ve been someone who didn’t have a kid on their lap right then saying, “What’s wrong with Sister A?”
And following the next very painful twenty minutes or so (during a talk given by a man whose talk I bawled through the last time he spoke) all the mothers were asked to stand so that they could be given a flower that the youth would hand out. My oldest son quickly brought me an appropriate red petunia and I ran for the door!
P.S. I am now caffeinated and feeling much better.
P.P.S. I do still love my husband, but sometimes I don’t like him. But, like sacrament meeting, it may be with our teeth clenched and too many witnesses to hurt each other, but we’ll make it! When I wrote this, I was still mad. When I typed it, it got a little funnier. Here’s to time healing all wounds.
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