Category Archives: Uncategorized
Now that my hands are smaller …
“Even when my hand is bigger than your hand, I’ll still hold it” he once told me.
Things are strained between my son and I, and I’m uncertain of what to do.
“You’re afraid that he won’t like you.” One friend said.
Yeah.
Yeah I am.
That little boy who reached out with his tiny hands, “Up!”
That little boy who fell asleep on my chest – as I stroked his impossibly blonde hair out of his eyes.
The boy I played games with.
The boy I wanted to please with every ounce of my heart.
I didn’t want him to lose out – feel different. Having only me.
The young man who only 2 years ago turned and waved as he walked up the dirt road to the school bus stop.
The young man who would tell me everything that hurt him – share his hopes and dreams.
Of course I want him to like me.
But it feels like it’s all gone.
I blinked and became redundant.
__________________________________________________
His priorities are askew – not focusing on school nor work – he is not following the house rules which are only a few.
It was so long ago that I was ‘momma’.
I barely see him now.
I don’t hear what is hurting him.
I don’t know anymore what his hopes are – or dreams.
“Why is he treating me this way? I made sure to do everything different. Do everything right.”
I lamented to a fellow mom yesterday.
“I remember being so excited to run home with a craft I made at school to show my mom, I remember it being so important to me to find just the right present for her at Christmas time. He has never really been that way toward me.”
“Maybe you were too nice” she said.
And it dawned on me, that in overcompensating, maybe my son never had to feel like he needed to earn my love or approval.
I mean, of COURSE he never had to earn my love but you know what I mean.
I still find myself wanting my mom to be proud of me. Even at 45. I make something, or accomplish something noteworthy, the first person I want to show it to – is her.
“Like me! Like me!” My inner child always seeking approval.
I always let my son know he was my favorite person on the planet. Is that where I went wrong?
Should I have spanked him? Not played video games with him? Not snuck him out of school (when his grades were good) for a fun rare day playing hooky?
Should I have not been so candid about life as he grew?
__________________________________________________
Being mom and dad was a weird line to straddle. From baseball to condoms – driving lessons to shaving – I taught it all.
I tried not to yell, to forgive quickly. Knowing that if anything ever happened to him, I would regret every sour word.
But in doing that – I clearly did not instill any healthy fear. I did not gain respect and have not been taken seriously.
And every day – my “Up!” boy is slipping away.
And his hands are so much bigger than mine – and so far from holding.
Musings from the Laundromat: Writers regret edition
I arrived here this morning and was greeted by my old laundromat biker buddy, “They’re ready for you” he said, gesturing to my two favorite washers “I kept ’em warm for you.” I stuffed them full, sat down and he filled me in on the progress of his eye that had glaucoma. He sees floaters and doesn’t trust doctors anymore.
I was eager to start writing – get this post out-of-the-way – but listened to him instead until he was done and heading to the dryers.
So the ginormous elephant in the room – my Friday post that I deleted..
I was having a rough day.
Usually I can stomp down my past and stay in the moment – but not Friday.
I reached out to a friend “Ok, which topic should I write about” it was suggested I write one and send it to them – not publish it. OH come on! That’s so sensible – so not ME.
I called another friend who is always full of wisdom and always makes time to listen to me ramble, and then ended up speaking to her sister.
I was trying to type her words as she spoke (which, didn’t work out too well. I prefer to do my ‘interviews’ via IM, so I can paste and so that I can be certain I have each word correct.)
During this conversation, I was also trying to interject my story into the piece as we had very similar pasts.
By the time we hung up, and as I was trying to read what I wrote through wet eyes – I heard …. what could only be described as a baying. Like an animal in pain – gulps of air then terrifying exhales of screams.
They were coming from me.
I was mourning in a way that I’ve only experienced a handful of times before in my 45 years.
I was out-of-body – feeling every horrible thing I’d ever done with such remorse and regret and agony.
I hit publish during this.
Stupid.
It was written horribly – not edited – and after I shared it I realized, sometimes my candor is too much.
I removed the piece.
I received comments, two in fact, from a reader the next day.
Here’s one:
“Your post “We’re too tired to survive” was disturbing to say the least. You must have really been high. I see you removed it. Once posted on the internet it is always out there. Could have been printed or copied and pasted.”
The second comment was much like the one above, but ended saying I should get help before it was too late.
I considered not approving the comment – but that would not be very authentic of me right?
I responded:
“Yes, it was disturbing, and very hard to write. I was typing while speaking to someone who was telling their story and interjecting mine. I try to be as honest on here as I can be, and no, I was not high. I was in a lot of pain and you are right, I need help. I can’t fix those things I’ve done and it always weighs heavily on me. I have a ‘contact me’ section you could have used if you were concerned. But I’ll own my piece and reply here. For all to read. Yes I know, once out there, it’s out there forever. After thinking more about it, I thought I could probably do the story justice another way, thus the removal. Was not a good piece, hard to type when crying and so emotional. I have good days and bad, and I always hope that in sharing the bad ones, perhaps I can help someone else.”
Both comments bothered me – for a couple of reasons. 1) I took the piece down, but she brought it up in two places to be sure I saw – but in doing that, the ghost of the removed piece was also in two places for everyone else to see. As I mentioned to her – I do have a ‘Contact Me’ section. If you’re coming from a place of concern, use it.
2) The reminders of ‘once it’s out there it’s out there’ and ‘could have been printed or copied or pasted’ came across more like a threat than a heads up.
I’m sure she didn’t mean it that way. That’s my guilt projecting onto the tone of the comments.
I know once something is out there, it’s out there. I have friends that have read it and strangers too.
I stand behind what I wrote, but only wish I had written it in a less emotional state.
I also had no business revealing a truth to the public before discussing it with the one involved.
That’s been a standing rule for me. I tell MY story – it is not my place to tell a story that involves another. Unless I have their permission.
‘Harm none.’
Oh it’s so hard sometimes – but I do it. Or rather, ‘don’t do it’.
The person was right about one thing though – I do need help.
I need to get all of my demons out and begin to truly heal. Therapy is something I’m very open to. (Just, without the shock treatments please! lol)
The Pareidolia Paradigm
I have always seen images in seemingly plain things.
Never could see those damn pictures in those 3D Stereograms though! Remember them? I believe they were at their hottest in the 90’s. ‘Magic Eye’ art.
I would stare – nose to the frame then back away, back away, back away.
Nothing. Pffft.
Ok, I think ONCE I saw something. But this was probably after some smarty-eye next to me announced what they saw “Oh look! It’s a sail boat! And there are people on it waving and one of them is missing a button on their jacket!” Oh shut up.
Anyway – back to pareidolia.
‘the human tendency to read significance into random or vague stimuli (both visual and auditory). The term comes from the Greek words “para” (παρά), meaning beside or beyond, and “eidolon” (εἴδωλον), meaning form or image.’
My earliest memories of this phenomenon would be my bedroom wall when I was a child. The wall was textured and I had a whole world living on it! I always wanted to trace around my findings in pencil and capture them. Mostly faces – but often animals, familiar characters – body parts like hands and torsos – plants and landscapes.
I loved gazing at my wall and discovering new pictures.
A more recent example would be my purse yesterday morning.
Although my friends see things too – I felt I had to include examples beside it before I shared. God forbid anyone think I was bonkers. (Alright, we know I’m bonkers, but I needed someone to validate my muppet purse. Yip, yip, yip.)
Tile is another endless wonderland for me. I’ve always stared down at tile and found imagination gold.
Here’s Roger from the animated show American Dad. The little perv lives in my bathroom.
Do you see him?
It’s not just objects in things – I see pictures in font too. lol <— looks like a man drowning to me. The ampersand looks like something scooting across a carpet.
I’m not alone – or this wouldn’t be on the internet:
The great thing is I’m not alone – and my friends pepper my Facebook page with images they know I’ll see – that they see too.
But did you know that pareidolia used to be considered a symptom of psychosis?!
I’m pleased to announce to those friends and to you reading this that can relate – that is no longer the case.
We seers are normal.
Well – as normal as someone who says ‘hi’ to Roger every time she goes pee can be.
Musings from the Laundromat: Baby in the corner and Butters in the bath
Eek! Totally out of my comfort zone. I have been relegated to a free-standing table, not my usual one that is snuggled up close to a line of washers.
I feel like a deer standing in the middle of a meadow – no tree cover! Here is where I sit.
It’s official, baby is IN the corner.
(Do you know, I’ve never watched that entire movie? I’ve also never seen all of Top Gun nor any of the Matrix movies.)
I wanted to photograph some sheep on the Indian reservation for you today – I stopped by the area and asked which field they were in – but I guess they’re gone.
Then I pulled into the parking lot here and only 1 car! I was surprised to find a lot of people inside though. Is there a secret parking lot I’m not privy to?? Or were they all dropped off? Hmmm …
Here’s newspaper man.
‘
In MY spot. (lol)
Then I spied Santa folding his little washcloth. Or maybe it’s Rudolph’s – who knows..
Anyway, lots to do when I get home.
It’s Butters bath day today. Oh how I wish I could somehow capture that whole experience for you in photos/video. It starts with me giving off nonchalant ‘bath vibes’ that she picks up on immediately.
We proceed to play “C’mon!” and “Ok! I give up” for 5 minutes as I try to catch her. Then when I finally do, (and usually it’s in a part of the house the furthest FROM the damn tub) I scoop her up (Like a bag of unevenly packaged potatoes) and carry 70 pounds of manatee (very ungracefully) to the bathroom.
The actual bath is adorable. She rests her ginormous lips on the side of the tub, knowing mom isn’t going to get any water in her eyes or ears and looks up at me with gratitude.
By the time it’s “All done!” she’s sort of sad we are.
I clean her little ears out and rub her as dry as I can while she wiggles and tries to bite the towel.
After hopping out of the tub she’s happy. I wish she would remember that ‘happy’ and associate it with the word ‘bath’ – it would make things a LOT easier.
I mean, if someone said to me “Cake time!” I’d sure as hell remember how delightful cake was. I’d be following that person directly to the cake.
So why does my intelligent dog – who knows the words ‘hot dog’ ‘cookie’ and ‘outside’ very well – not put the word ‘bath’ together with the experience of being scrubbed and petted and clean and happy?! Canine mystery.
Time to fold – so I wish you a happy Sunday and may all your bath times be good ones!
Minimal Parenting State of Frustration
Come on down folks!
You can carry concealed weapons with no license AND it’s a Minimal Parenting State!
Seriously.
My frustration level today was at a full Spinal Tap 11.
I had my annual property inspection this morning.
All went well. Considering I’m a goody two shoes and have been cleaning like an OCD queen for a year, there wasn’t really any doubt about that.
Feels intrusive though – taking photos of every room – my bedroom, all my precious things. (almost expected them to bring in a table with stirrups for a full examination) The bathrooms – our towels and toiletries. Even Butters!!!
Don’t get me wrong, the people who manage the property I live in are really nice. I also understand why the homeowner is well within his or her right to know what condition their investment is in.
I’m just saying the inspection itself feels like a cell check. A reminder that where you are is not yours – and someone else has a set of keys and a set of rules.
Speaking of rules.
This was also my time to mention anything that needed fixing etc.
Well, other than some minor items, an obvious thing that needs fixing is the behavior of ‘the neighbors’.
Both homes are owned by the same person and managed by the same company.
I brought up recent events (the dog’s appearance, the witnessed dog abuse, the traffic/drug-likelihood continuance, yelling at the children)
I bring it up because I can’t escape it!
I’m no Mrs. Kravitz!! I’m not a ‘Curtain Twitcher’ (as my Nannie would say)
Every room I spend a lot of time in (kitchen, living room, bedroom) have windows directly facing ‘them’.
Walls are thin – I hear every car, every verbal barb from my couch – I assure you, I am not pressed against the wall with my ear to a cup.
I cannot enjoy the sanctuary that ‘home’ should be with the uncomfortable dysfunction constantly on display.
___________________________________
Fast forward.
I told the inspector that I was done.
It doesn’t seem fair that I follow the rules, and can’t enjoy my home to the fullest.
I received an email at work from the landlord.
She was going to call CPS and if they did not renew the tenancy, would I consider staying?
Wow.
Yeah – of course. (I actually wasn’t intending to leave.)
The yard is a great size for Butters – I don’t feel like her barking interferes with anyone (no direct neighbors that we’re butted up against) and I’ve been in the home for 4 years and am settled. The inspector today kept saying how cozy I’d made the place. And it’s true.
It is cozy.
If you can shut out the world and just be in the moment – it’s a hell of a homey, cozy place to be.
I received another email from the landlord.
Apparently, the State I live in is a ‘minimal parenting’ State.
Huh?!?!
What is this, and why didn’t I know about this when Nic was under 18?
You mean I didn’t have to supply love, entertainment, attention to his education etc??? What the hell?
I joke of course.
The landlady had an example for me, and I quote:
“Do you know that if someone is dealing drugs out of their home and they are not doing it in front of the children and the drugs are locked up so the kids cannot get to them that it is not a danger and therefore they cannot do anything!!”
Wow.
There was another example:
“I was dumbfounded when I asked her what would constitute getting them involved and the responses made me so mad! She told me that if someone had dog feces all over there floor, with children in the house, that if the children were crawling through it or at an age to still not understand not to put it in their mouth that would be an issue.
If the same situation occurred and the child was 6 or 7 and knew not to put it in their mouth that would not be an issue. I don’t understand how that cannot be health and safety????!!!!!”
Again, Wow.
We went back and forth and exchanged exasperation and ideas. I finally mentioned that the dog’s waste is not picked up and is located amongst the childrens backyard toys.
Two are under 6.
Grasping at straws I know!
That failing, they could at least call ‘the neighbors’ out on the unofficial dog and we can get that innocent party out of the mix.
In order to keep Butters, I MUST have renters insurance and had to put a pet deposit down. They should have to do the same!
And I don’t say that in a ‘wah wah’ tantrum way … I say it because it is NOT fair that there are people who follow rules and people who don’t and the ones who don’t seem to get away with it.
I think (especially before Christmas) that might be something they won’t want to do and they’ll opt to relinquish the dog.
It should have no problem finding a home – it’s a sweetheart.
What keeps returning to my thoughts though is how on earth is anyone supposed to prevent a tragedy?
The minute a child is killed or found in a disgusting environment, strangers comment ‘why didn’t anyone DO anything about this?’ And they tut and sneer and judge. (I know I have.)
Well people, guess what? I bet someone TRIED to do something and there were no avenues for them to take.
I’ve called the Sheriff.
I’ve advised the landlord.
CPS has been spoken to.
And as I type, I’m still across from that family – and unless someone is seen walking out of their house holding a bag of drugs or they beat their children in the middle of the street – or they … gawd, what?
Unless they WHAT??
What IS it going to take to finally do them in?
I don’t know.
But I only want the best for those three children and for that pup.
And yeah – call me crazy – but I still only want the best for the flipping parents too. Because they were once children. Whatever makes them capable of being the way they are and lashing out the way they do – needs fixing.
I only want the best for EVERYONE!
Related posts:
The Help and how I almost didn’t
Porch Sounds – what about the children?
Debauchery Soup 