Humanics

hu-man-ics/ : the study of human nature or human affairs

As a college's philosophy, it's applied as the education of the whole student, mind, body and spirit. The principal of looking at the whole person, giving them an enriching experience to give back to, leaving the institution with more than just an education, but an entire lifestyle.

In truth, it's one of the key reasons Youngest chose this college. 

The journey to get him there, not once but twice, has been long.

And yet it was made once again.

By Tuesday he was done.

After a four hour failed attempt to skateboard home (130 miles), I thankfully got him to agree to turn around and head back to campus. I also talked him into getting a location stamp from his phone so I could have his brother call him an Uber to get him the remaining 5 miles home in the dark. And in the end, it was clear he could not stay.

By Tuesday he was in admissions asking to withdraw.  The conversation turned sadly to how none of any of it mattered and he wished he was dead.  They sat with him for 3 hours until we could get him. We moved him out completely, he came home, and the next day we willingly went to attempt to get him some out patient services. 

What followed next is a giant mess of stupidity, that ultimately ended up getting him a section 12.  A section 12 is when they basically negate your rights, and check you in to inpatient emergency services, and search for a bed in a mental care facility. As you can imagine, this did not go well.

So now, it's two days later.  He has been placed in a care facility.  He will likely be released on Tuesday, if he behaves, agrees to work with them, and stop trying to escape. At least there they are talking to his therapist who has his history.  There, they are talking to me.  There he can call out to anyone he wants, and can receive calls at any point.  I can drop him off snacks, clothes, books. 

There is not where I ever wanted him to be.  

It was not what I asked for when we went for help.  

But there is where we are, and we just have to figure out how to get from there, to here.

I have said for years that his behavior looks like bi-polar.  His father was a pi-polar, manic depressive. I lived 7 years with undiagnosed bi-polar, and then what felt like another 18.  The behavior is sadly my wheelhouse, how to step quietly, negotiate, and anticipate the next move. Trying to be ahead of the curve, I have had him tested twice.  Both saw no signs of a mood disorder.

But mood disorders are not a test that can be taken on paper, rather a series of behaviors, and the generic bi-polar diagnosis has many sub contexts, nuances, and levels. What is for one, isn't at all the same for another, yet there are similarities. And someone saw those similarities today.  When his case manager talked, the blanks began to fill in. The anti depressant he'd been prescribed 3 and half months earlier, just to take the edge off the COVID crazy, would magnify a underlying mood disorder, causing suicidal behavior. As the dosage stepped up, so did the behavior, and thoughts turned to threats, threats turned to an attempt.

And there we are.

It kills me that I missed this. I had suspected, but wasn't able to sit in on his med check appointment last week.  It kills me that I didn't ask for him to retry the medicine we used when he was little, for mood disorder, that literally had no side effects for him. This will likely eat me away forever. 

He starts back on it tomorrow.  Along with, I would assume, something else to get him stable enough to leave. COVID restrictions allow me only a 15 minute visitation window in the next 6 days. I have talked to him twice.  The first time he was cognitive.  The second, he was either broken or medicated, but he did tell me he loved me, and I'll take that any way I can get it.

I feel like I've lost a limb. Like there's a giant piece of me missing. There's a pit in my stomach, and I cry at nothing. An inpatient facility was NEVER what I wanted for him. And I just hope that we can get him back to himself before he comes home. That the damage of ripping the rug out from under both of us, doesn't make him just want to take back off, and at 18, I'll never see him again.

I have spent the day controlling what I can control.  Which in this case means working to get him withdrawn from school, returning items unopened from the dorm, retuning books unread. Busy work basically, to minimize his stress when he gets home.

It took four hours.

I got a full refund on his books.

80% refund on his tuition.

90% refund on his housing

90% refund on his food

100% refund on his store account.

And a 70% refund on his refrigerator.

Impressive, yes?  Considering the current state of affairs for college financial right now.  Thing is, most of this was offered, and while some had to be negotiated, they didn't want this choice to follow him by way of 20 years of payments with ridiculous interest rates. And then they offered something different.  A full withdrawal from school, which means he'd never come back, or a leave of absence for 2 semesters.

A full year to decide what he wants to do.  On top of the refunds, he gets to reconsider.  To come back to a school where COVID isn't an issue.  Where sports resume.  Where socializing and making friends is encouraged. With a year's worth of maturity, and enough work experience to know that this is the right move for him instead of following the masses. And they are holding the same grants and merit scholarships he currently has, ensuring he can continue on for the same cost as 2020, through 2025. 

They are giving him a do-over.

Humanics. 

Giving his mind a chance to catch up.

Holding all parts equally important.

Ensuring a healthy body, mind, and spirit.

Educating the whole person.

What's Next (Part 2)

Tomorrow we leave to bring Youngest back to college.

He's on *probation* until April, so basically he can't even fart without being booted, but at least he has the opportunity to finish what he started.  He has mixed feelings about going back, and honestly so do I.

The rumor is that the cafeteria has at least opened back up for dine in or out, which means more meals can be eaten outside of the dorm room. The marketplace has opened as well, so there's other options (Dunkin', Subway, etc.) as well.  They order off the app and can grab it and go.  Again, with the dining hall being open, this will be huge for interaction with other kids. His in person classes start on Monday, all part of the be off campus by Thanksgiving plan. Dropping him off late at night tomorrow allows his to get dinner, but be ready for classes. 

He's been working through some big things while he's been home.  He's spent the last 2 days with the boys, which makes me think he and the girlfriend might be on a break.  She's very nice, but Hubs thinks it may be easier for him to be away without attachments.  He's angry at the college, that he was judged and treated harsher than the other boy involved in the stupidity.  He's also pissed that his fine is higher that the other kid, because the extra fine was for something that belonged to the other kid and not him. But that's a wash now I guess. He seems relived to learn that the cafeteria is open finally. His goal now is to get through the semester, pass, and then look at other options.  Which is sad really.  The last year all he could wait for is to get there, and between covid and snap judgments, that's all been ruined for him.  The school broke him, and there are no consequences for that. The plan right now is for him to come home every other weekend.  Honestly I'd get him every weekend but I think that might send a red flag for the covid issues, and no one wants that.

I try to remind him to embrace the dorky.  That if what everyone's doing in the dorm isn't his thing, find one that is.  Movies on the green, scavenger hunts, longboarding to the east campus, watching avatar in his room, whatever. This time when we get there, we are spending the time to hang the pictures, get the TV functioning, stocking the fridge with his favorites. Doing what we can to make it feel like home.

I worry a lot about how he'll be. But I am really trying to let it go. At best, he'll thrive.  At worst, we'll go back and pick him up. It's out of my control. And worrying is like wishing for the worst to happen.  So I'm trying my best to not do that.

Oldest, on the other hand, can't wait to get started on Tuesday.  He has multiple friends with apartments near campus, so while his day will be insanely long in the city, if he needs to he can crash there and come home in the morning. The car, that for now we are calling his, is all registered and inspected.  The drop off registry services, while confusing and far from home, are relatively painless.  He handled that and the inspection himself. 

Hubs is on vacation next week.  He is supposed to be getting tires on the truck thanks to an unexpected back pay in this week's paycheck.  Apparently payroll was supposed to be giving them an additional 1% of a contractual increase and they haven't for months.  It accumulated to quite a bit. So not only does he have the time to do it, but the money as well. We'll see if/when that happens.

I am back to the postal grind on Tuesday.  It's going to be a tough week, no doubt.  We are not getting on the road until 11 am most days due to poor scheduling of clerks.  Friday I did a voluntary second run of packages just so I didn't have to stand around for 2 hours doing nothing. This is the start of our Holiday season, and I'm weary that there will be a plan, or even a "Pla" to get us through it. 

On the upside though I did take a bit of time for myself this week.  Got the bills squared away, formulated a plan to get back on track by the end of the month.  It wasn't as bad as I thought. I got my hair cut for the first time in 2 years. The pile on the floor looked like a small dog when she was done. I colored it the next day on my own. I used some gift cards to get myself a facial and massage at the local spa.  Even fell asleep in the relaxation room after a long foot soak. It was lovely and, after my indulgent purchase of moisturizer at the girt shop, only cost me $15.

One things for sure, we all just can't keep going the way we're going.  Youngest has to figure things out on his own.  Oldest needs to move forward with his education and regain some sense of normal.  Hubs needs a break from work, and some quiet time to himself.  And I need to get back to taking care of me for a bit.

Because if Mom goes down, they'll all go down.

What Next?

The time of COVID has effected everyone differently.

Here, we did not get the time at home.  There was no mass cleaning of closets, organizing of spices and junk drawers, or compiling of old photos. We worked. All of us. And until the science evolved, we went in everyday unsure of if we would be bringing it home to each other, or to our extended families. There was gut wrenching guilt of going to the stores, going to work, seeing people, not seeing people, going without, and not going without.

Youngest's end of Senior year was horrendous, of which I have written a lot about. Although I suspect when looking back, he will love that the dog was at his drive through graduation ceremony, stealing the show in the middle front seat of the truck. As for the rest, just a blip on the radar of his life.

We've moved now into the beginning of Freshman and Sophomore years of college. I brought Oldest into the city today for his COVID test and you could see it in his face.  He misses it. The bustle of the city, living in the dorms, his friends. He has one in-person class this semester and it just doesn't make sense for his to live on campus if 90% of the time he'd be online anyway. Commuting in one day a week saves him $12K per semester and allows him to still stay connected. He agrees this is the right move at this time, but still, his heartbreak is palpable.

Youngest has no friends at his college yet, as he is just starting his freshman year. His school is about 3 hours away, far enough away for independence, and yet close enough for me to go get him.  Which is key, because 12 hours after dropping him off on Thursday, I was back to get him on Friday.

He made some very poor choices. Stupid choices combined with mass misunderstanding, and he had to come home.  He meets with a panel to see if he can continue on, or needs to find another path. In the hours it took to get to him, I had so many emotions, but mostly heartbreak. He was allowed to take only what he would need for a week at home, as opposed to cleaning out entirely, which is the norm.  That in itself is hopeful.  He started classes online today, along with all the other students, and hopefully can resume his hybrid classes on campus next week.  The semester in itself is a hybrid, having only 10 weeks on campus (now 9 for him) and the last 4 at home anyway.

I suspect he subconsciously sabotaged himself.  No one could possibly be that stupid. When he returned home he revealed a secret he'd been hiding from everyone for over a month that quickly eclipsed his temporary boot from school. I can't put the words on paper, but it was lifechanging, and when it resolved itself a few days later, you could see a tiny speck of life come back into him.  He's eating again, with the help of some herbal supplements, and been sober since Friday.

But here's the thing.... he's not sure he wants to go back.  He says the things he loved about the school are gone.  The gym is extremely limited. The Olympic sized swimming pool is closed. The pool and foosball tables are gone from all the lounges.  They can't sit more than 5 people in the common rooms. The cafeteria is grab and go only, so while the food is amazing, you have to go back to your room to eat it or sit out on the lawn, by yourself. It's a sports school with no sports.  The 100 year old tradition of freshman orientation, usually a huge rally in the stadium seats, with smaller breakout get-to-know-you groups, and crazy hats, had been reduced to groups of 15 sitting on the lawn in their funny hats listening to it on the radio. The second day of orientation was done completely remote because of weather, and in their dorm rooms. They literally haven't been able to explore the campus, or even meet other kids freely because they can't have more than 2 kids in a room. And masking is expected at all times unless they are alone in their rooms, eating, or showering. Which technically means that even when their roommate is is the room, the mask needs to be on... including sleeping.  Which is ridiculous.

Logically he knows that the school will return to the one he fell in love with, but that's not what he's emerged in right now. His classes can be converted to all online and he can see where the restrictions fall in January if he is allowed to continue on. But the distractions of home are plentiful, and I worry that he won't stick to the schedule he needs to in order to succeed. 

He's had a mentor since he was 8 from a local club he would go to afterschool.  He took him out that first Friday night and got him to unlock the secret, that of course opened the floodgate for a tiny bit of truthfulness with the rest of us. They went out to dinner again tonight. He told his brother that he's like his new therapist.  And I'm good with that, I need all the help I can get with him. I suspect they are talking about what's next, and if it's possible for him to sit in the college meeting on Thursday as a mentor, since I am not able to. Literally, the college won't allow parents/guardians to be part of any disciplinary hearings.

Again, ridiculous.

But these were his poor choices, and his consequences. He will have to advocate for himself, better than he ever has, and hope that's enough. And then if he has the opportunity, he will have to decide what's next for himself. Tough it out on campus, remote learning, or start over entirely.

And that of course is the issue for all of us right now, right? 

Determining what's next in this year of 2020.

Murder hornets. 

Riots.

EEE outbreaks. 

Australia to California has burned to the ground, Louisiana is underwater.

Masks, no masks, follow the arrows or not.

Hurricanes, bizarre storms, micro bursts.

Stocks plummet, Billionaires somehow profit.

Our freedom, literally has left us unable to move about the world freely.

Online, offline, job, no job.

Non essential, essential, sacrificial.

Orange Man, Sniffing Man.

2020, What's next?

Let's Go There...

 

This was from the USPS's Twitter feed, as per the original content, I did not Snope it, fact check it, or otherwise, I don't feel I need to.  Because after 17 years with the Postal Service, I can tell you that + or - a few million, it's likely to be accurate.

When I divorced it became clear that with two under two, there was no way I could go back to the career I once knew.  As a single Mom there was no way I could leave my kids for 16 hours during holiday season or duck out at 2 am for alarm calls. At one point in my job search, I saw a mail lady, hanging out the right hand side of her car, delivering mail from box to box.  I distinctly remember thinking. "If I ever have to do that, I'll know I've hit rock bottom."

Six months later, I too, was hanging out of my car., and seventeen years later here I still am. Everyday I go in, deliver every piece of mail sorted to me, every package, grocery flyers and all, and make it back before the outgoing mail truck each night.  A long time ago I made the decision to be content in what I was doing to support my family.  It's not heroic, not brain science, and not rewarding. It's a job.  One that puts a roof over my head, food on the table, and pays for nice vacations when I can afford to take them. It provides us health insurance, security, and for me, human connection that has all but been lost in the way of technology.  I made the decision that while it was not glamorous, that I would be the best I could be (most days) at what I was doing.  My goal is that when people talk smack about the Postal Service, my customers will look at them and say, "I have no idea what you're talking about.  I love my mail lady."

And they have.  My customers have rallied behind me, and us, to show their support.  They ask how I'm doing physically, having volumes higher than Holiday for the last 5 months, and mentally, being the center of a political crossfire. The answer is the same... 

"We are tired.  But we got this."

And in truth, we do have this. I have roughly 650 homes on my medium sized route. If there are 2 voters in each home, and 75% of them want to vote by mail, that would be 975 pieces of mail that I would have to hand sort. I am not fast, but I am accurate.  It would take me two hours if they all showed up on the same day, which they won't. Rest assured I can get that done, and do, when the machines break down and we have to sort trays of mail, carry the grocery flyers, medications, over 250 packages, and make it back before the 630 outgoing truck.

The talk of blue boxes being removed, removing mail sorting machines, delaying mail etc. has been done for years, not just now.  And while it makes a HUGE sensational point for the media and politicians alike, it's not new.  They are calling it delaying mail, we have called it load leveling for 20 years.  Machines that are as big as a football field, that take 40 people to run, don't get turned on if there isn't enough catalogs to run them.  It's not cost effective. And while some plants and supervisors took the new PMG's directions way off into left field, just as many did not. And I assure you, the mail is rolling off the machines and into trucks daily.

They removed our mail sorting machines ten years ago.  It was part of a streamline process to have all local towns processed out of one central hub.  It cuts down on trucking costs, man power, and allows our clerks to work only our mail.  Again... it's been ten years, and our mail shows up every time, on time.

We've also removed blue boxes for years.  Every 3 months our outgoing blue boxes get counted for 2-3 weeks to see how many people are using them.  If they have less than 25 or so pieces a week, they are removed. 90% of the time these are boxes that were once in thriving areas that have gone vacant, or another blue box was installed in a more visible location. In some areas we have added boxes depending on the use that the boxes get. 

And the thought that any carrier would throw away ballots because they don't agree with that party?  It's crap. First, no one will risk their job for a handful of votes. Second, ain't no one got time for that sh!t. Seriously. I am paid by the day. This means that if I work 14 hours or 6, I am paid for 8. With the package volume now I barely make it back within my evaluation and many days work for free.  I will not waste a second on that nonsense.  Our state has nondescript ballot return envelopes, but if someone's actually concerned about it, they can always mail it back in their own envelope.  The whole thing is just ridiculous.  And rest assured, if the PO wants to track a piece of mail, they can. We do scan checks every day to verify how long mail takes to get to a customer, and track accuracy through GPS that it is getting into the correct box. I assure you, if something goes wonky, *they* will know.

As for our new PMG, he's the boss, and there will be big changes coming down the line. As employees, we get this. The Post Office needs to change and adapt if it wants to be viable.  But what the public and congress needs to remember is that we are a service, NOT a company, granted to every person in this country, that no matter what their income or location, this country provides. And while we don't make billions in profits, we don't take a dime of tax payer money.  NOT A DIME. Our costs are governed by Congress, and our price increases can not increase more than the cost of living. This is again, to ensure everyone can afford to use our services.  

That said, I do have three main areas of concern. First, the current administration's executive order to investigate the post office using tax payer money when he first took office. Not understanding how the PO works, he ultimately spent a ton of money, investigating nothing.  The only report back was upper management needing to be cut (which everyone knew) and eliminate the longevity retirement for the workers. So basically, they could save costs by eliminating the extra 1% retirement for people who retire with longer than 30 years of service. In other words, they will save money buy shorting the people who have spent a lifetime getting it done. He also froze all new full time positions for a time, because not having any idea how we work as a private entity, there was no clarification of how we would proceed with getting the job done.

Second, the postal inspectors were responsible for the arrest of Bannon for money laundering. The thought that POTUS's business affiliate was using the Post Office to launder money is more than a red flag, and deeply disturbing.

And third, the new PMG. Being a lifetime appointment, regardless of who is in office, he can stay in his position. Which is fine, but raises some concerns.  In 2014 he sold his personal logistics company to XPO, for 614Million, and still retains a 30M stake in XPO, which just happens to be the logistics company for the Post Office. He also holds an enormous stake in Amazon, who while being a major contributor, is also a major competition for the PO with their expansion of planes and fleets of private delivery trucks. With a foot in each, it's hard to renegotiate the contract for what we get paid for parcel delivery fairly and without bias. He also purchased stock options that allow him to buy Amazon stocks at a discounted rate, so if business is lost to Amazon, either through failed contract negotiation, or a dismantling of the USPS from within, he can quickly and inexpensively benefit.

Please know that this was never meant to be a political post, but rather a venting of all things hitting us at this moment. Personally I am insulted that people think that something as small as mail in ballots would devastate the postal service, a service that has survived for 240 years, through more than one pandemic. I am resentful that through it all my mail truck has kept rolling, with NO OVERTIME OR HAZARD PAY. Every other federal employee was given hazard pay for continuing to work through COVID. Ours is still being debated in Congress. I hate that we're being used as a political ploy to cast doubt on what I do everyday and take pride in doing well. Honestly, there's a lot of things I'm feeling right now, but many I can't compile into words. So for now, I will continue rolling in my mail truck, getting it done. 

In 107 degrees.  

In -7 degrees. 

Snow.  

Hail. 

Hurricanes.  

Micro Bursts. 

Fire. 

In my TWENTY NINE year old truck.

Because the very first thing the new PMG did before all the other crap the media is talking about, is stop the production of the new mail trucks.  

You know, the ones that can accommodate our package volumes, can load without injuring our backs, have minimal blind spots for accidents, have more than just one wheel drive, and don't randomly catch fire.

Because why on Earth would we need to be safe while ensuring the sanity of the mail... 

...and all those ballots?

 

 What I really need is a good pair of Spanx.  

One that can hold my life together.

Seriously.

August is winding down, and settling somewhat in a holding pattern for us.  Oldest's job extended out two weeks as the public school's don't start now until mid September. He's opted to only stay on an additional week, so as to have some down time to get ready for college.  As of now he will be commuting in for his one day a week in person lab, and the rest will be online.  If it can stay that way, it's the best of both worlds for him and with a savings of 12K, he may opt to do it again next semester. 

Youngest leaves in 11 days for college, provided he screens COVID negative once he arrives on campus. I've been suggesting smaller circles after this weekend to maximize the odds. Some suggestions have been taken, others not. Course, it helps that he totaled the car... again. If you're keeping track, he rolled a car on the highway in February, had a not at fault accident in a traffic rotary in May, and now in August, totaled another car. So with Oldest working and being gone 11 hours a day, that leaves one car for the three of us to share. Needless to say, he's spent a lot of time at home, and we're all in agreement that he shouldn't drive for the rest of the time he's home. He's also dragging his feet on figuring out the rest of what he needs for dorm life.  Yes, he has a few things that he grabbed with me a few weeks back, but if he doesn't get it together he'll be standing in the shower catching foot fungus just getting wet due to his lack of shower shoes, shampoo, soap, and a razor.

Work is never-ending, a good day now is one when I don't work over my evaluated time, also known as working for free. I spent 30 minutes in bed this morning trying to feel my fingertips. The excessive workload of people ordering stuff online has done a number on the nerves in my back and neck. And there's no end in sight, unlike Holiday season, which is dauting. And taking time off is not really an option as everyone's already running thin. The corner of the office I'm in is known as the happy corner, nothing but rainbows and unicorns.  But lately the unicorn's run off, and I'm almost out of glitter. 

So now, in the midst of regular shopping, packing, and fighting with the insurance company, we're searching for a new car.  One that's reliable and safe enough to commute in and out of the city, yet doesn't break the bank. In the mean time I have no choice but to get a rental car while we figure things out. The irony is I was at the dealership 2 weeks ago in hopes of getting rid of my car, and of course, I am upside down on it for now.  So the kids will get a *new* car, by I will still be driving the old. The old car, that as of tonight, needs breaks. Awesome.

So where were we?

Yeah... the Spanx.

Anyone got a coupon code for that?

Challenging Everything He Knows...

Youngest: "You know, sometimes I don't think that we need to be gluten free.  I think maybe it's not really a real thing, like because we can have small amounts and be okay."

Me: "Okay..."

Youngest: "So I ate a whole bag of pretzel goldfish"

Me: "And?"

Youngest: "Oh, it's real.  I feel like crap."

I'm not sure why he has chosen the last six months to question everything, literally, about who he is. For those of us who love him it has been an extremely difficult ride.  Intellectually I know he needs to find his way, to figure out who he is, and more importantly, who he's not.

There have been many ups and downs.

He's struggling with ways to cut back and or be sober for a day or two at a time. 

He really loves longboarding. When his anxiety kicks up he's out the door, rolling down the street.  Often he's back in 10 minutes, but with a clear head and focus.  

He's spending a lot of time at the beach and the pond.

He's trying to incorporate more regular work outs and time to eat real food.  He joined us out for dinner the other night.  We noted the bill was higher than it's been in a long time because all four of us where together. At first he contested, and then really reflected on how long it had been since we all sat at a table together.  Months.  He'd been absent for months.

He's struggling with his sexuality, dropping on us that he thought he maybe bi. After some discussion, and meeting the boy of his affection, he's reached the reality that deep down he's into girls. I'm not sure what he thought our reaction would be, or why his revelations wouldn't be met with adversity.  But when it wasn't, it was much easier for him to work though. And while the boy was very nice, in the end he's seems to have found a nice local girl, with whom he's decided to be exclusive with, at least until he leaves for school. Focusing on just one girl has allowed an all over calmness to him which has been really, really nice.

He's been camping, alone, randomly in the woods.  Sometimes he pitches a tent, other times he just hangs a hammock.  He says he just sits in the quiet and reads. At first I was concerned because he was literally just picking random places in neighboring towns. But recently he has acquiesced to my requests of camping at his aunt's field.  With 3 acres, he can camp in the field out front, be on private property out of danger, and pretty isolated from people. And he loves the sound of the train at night.

He's spending more time at home, watching TV, cooking his favorites.

We are fighting less. Some of this is because of better choices, and more respectful behavior. Some of it is because I have just given up.  It's just not worth my effort. He knows how I feel about certain things and somedays he just doesn't care.

He tried shocking us with thoughts of getting a tattoo.  Again, I don't think he was expecting our support. So much support, that we helped him find the perfect image for what he wanted, discussed the best placements for him to weigh out, and called the shop to schedule an appointment with a world renown artist. And just like that, his urgency to get it, cooled down a bit.  I still think he'll get it, but instead of something rushed that he'll regret later, it will be well placed, meaningful, and exactly what his original intent was.

His uncle on his dad's side is circling around again.  They went out to breakfast a few weeks ago, and are going again tomorrow.  It's been 8 years since he's contacted them. I know this is something they have to work through, but I feel as if they are being set up for something.  That family is severely dysfunctional and while they know all about it, the momma in me is really having a difficult time letting them walk freely into shark cage.

He asked me last week if we could go dorm shopping.  He doesn't need much, but he wanted to pick up a few things. He picked out a back pillow, the color of which needs to be ordered online, and coordinated the micro-fridge rental with his roommate. We found quite a bit of goodies at TJMaxx, so much that we needed a cart.  As I was rolling around the garden décor, he came to me with this...

Hard to believe that we'll be packing up and moving him and his plans for world domination into is new home away from home.

26 days and counting.

Positive Pants Only...

I could tell you all about Saturday.

How we were yet again slammed with packages, that the internet was down so the clerks were already behind when we walked in the door. Or, that the Post Master showed up on a Saturday. Or, that a half hour before we were to go out on the road the power went out.

That the heat exhaustion headache started while loading the truck, or that the nausea from being in a 97 degree mail truck settled in at hour 3, of the 5 and a half hour long day. Or, that upon delivering my 250th package of 278 for the day, it started leaking white paint all over the truck, me, and the truck seat. Or, that after cleaning it off the seat, I then sat on the now soaked cushion so that not only did I smell horrific from sweat and postal grime, I now looked like I peed myself for the last 50 minutes of the day.

I could tell you that.

Or I could tell you that I was blessed to have found still frozen water in mailboxes, icy cold cokes, and homemade pickles that I'm sure will be delicious.

That I came home to a houseful of tennagers, laughing, and sun kissed from the beach.

That the brothers got along for the first time in a while.

There were burgers, and games, and s'mores by the fire. That every extra bed and couch was filled with kids out cold from a good night.

That I took the time Sunday morning to appreciate all the hard work my husband does around here.

To remember that despite the fact that I killed the original one, I will always think of my grandmother when I see my alstroemeria in full bloom.

That every one of my plants that my friend gave me last year came back in full bloom this year.

That this beauty, that my mother bought for my 30th birthday, still thrives all these years later.

Or, that I would be remiss if I didn't tell you that this pergola was designed by a friend of Youngest's five years ago and it makes me smile to see it covered in grapes.

I could mention that when they had no idea I was in ear shot, as said teenagers left for breakfast, I heard one of them say "You have the coolest Mom", or that Youngest told me that he "kind of just wanted to be home for a bit." That he's been coming home, and staying home more and more often, seeking it out for quiet time, and shutting out the world when it goes crazy.

I could tell you that Monday brought new friends by the house, and that the kayaks finally made it from the garage to the pond, along with several pool noodles and a boogie board.

Sometimes, no matter how hard it gets, you just have to wear the positive pants to weather the storm. And if it's just too hot for pants, fashion them into stylish shorts, and rock them like you own the place.

Down Time...

Father's day and the husband's birthday came all at once this year. For all he does he only got one day this year to celebrate, and little choice on how to spend it.  My sister has given us family dinners for the last 2 Christmases as her gift.  We call get a calendar with pre-set dates and we meet at her house once a month for dinner.  Corona, of course, has side tracked that since March, but yesterday we assembled at her house for a cookout and much needed get together.

It was great, aside from the diverticulosis flare that started in the morning leaving me unable to eat anything.  The dog didn't come either, as she had been off lately, having little interest in bacon or cheese treats and whimpering occasionally when she puts her weight on her front foot. It was nice to see everyone, despite my discomfort, and even nicer to see Youngest sober for the entire day. I have been seeing tiny steps in a positive direction, nothing I can get my hopes up for, but still positive steps none the less.

I spent last night on the couch, wrapped in my weighted blanket and heating pad to alleviate the pain in my guts. In and out of sleep, I have vague memory of the goings on in the house.  At one point Oldest came in to check on me, asking me questions of Corona.  It seems he's concerned that his recent exploits on the beach have brought home COVID. I assured him he did not.  Youngest was home an hour and a half early and apparently tucked me in, shut off the TV and the lights. I woke up about a half hour later noticing his shoes were here, so I locked up and shut the outside lights off.

This morning has found me virtually fever free which should mean I caught things in time to prevent an infection. The dog's leg seems to be better, as she's chasing her ball around the house like a maniac and begging for cheese once again. Youngest came upstairs sporting an ace bandage on his wrist and several bruises. Apparently there was an incident while he was out on a walk last night, over something he didn't remember, and he's starting to see what we've all been saying.  He says he doesn't want to drink anymore.  That that's not the life he wants to have.  He also declared he's going to figure out what he can do that doesn't involve getting high for fun. He's made plans with some old friends for Thursday. All of which are positive things that I pray he sticks to. Oldest has decided to take a break from drinking on the beach, which is also good. He's also decided to spend more time on himself, eating better, and not looking for a spring fling. While I know he has no major issues with any of this, this summer could easily become a mess of chaos if it's not kept in check. 

Plans are being made for the fourth of July. Housing deposits for college have been paid. Youngest is checking in on his virtual orientations, and Oldest is connecting with college friends and speculating how the new hybrid learning will go. Bonus son is working like crazy, banking the overtime. The husband is on vacation week after next with will do wonders for his mental state.

And, I am getting some much needed down time, even if it's currently under a blanket with a heating pad on my guts.

The Terrible, Very Bad, No Good day...

I rolled out of bed with just enough time to get myself to work this morning.  Upon my exiting the shower, the husband reports that the boy left the window down in the car again. How one does that, when they are using the wipers because it's raining, I will never know. He also reports there is glass in the backseat.

So somewhere between throwing in the laundry and throwing my hair in a sloppy ponytail, I present myself in Youngest's room. He's awake, and comes upstairs shortly thereafter to move the car, because I'm not getting my butt wet before work, and clean the glass up. He puts on his clothes, his shoes.  Something smears under his foot on the dog's eating rug and he looks down dismissively. Thinking it's a dog cookie she's saving for later, I grab the vacuum and suck it up as he goes outside, moves the car, and begins to get the shop vac out to clean. The cookies didn't clean up as well as it usually does, which I found odd, but had no time to investigate. I sat in the kitchen putting on my shoes when I see something else on the floor.  I look outside.  More stuff.  In the driveway, more stuff.

Do you have dog crap on your shoe?
*looks at sneaker bottom* Yeah, I did.  But not anymore...
No, no you don't because it's all over the house.

I grab the hose and spray the driveway and slate down. I clean the kitchen floor.  I look at the dog, now sadly looking at me like, why is there random dog poop on my eating rug?, I apologize and figure I'll clean it up later.

I head to work for a horrendous day.  It's hot and humid.  I'm already done before the day even starts. My anxiety is so high I'm having chest pains.  I should probably go home, but don't. Two hundred and 92 packages, my biggest day ever.  I got stuck in two driveways, one of which 3 people had to push me out of. I got stuck behind the ice cream truck on a one way street and have no where to go while a line of kids slowly decide between rocket pops or SpongeBob with the bubblegum eyes. I miss a package and have to drive 10 miles back to get it delivered. I forget to turn my hazards on for the last part of the delivery because I had shut them off to deviate while delivering the package. When I get back into the office my boss asks me a vague did anything happen on the road today?  

Um, yeah... the day sucked... where shall I start?  I got stuck in two driveways.  
Well, Apparently the guy at 73 said you took out his rock wall.

So I proceed to tell him the whole story.  I got stuck in a situation I shouldn't have been in.  There was a rock on the ground that I popped back into the wall, that the bumper *may* have knocked out (it's a loose stacked flat rock wall) I checked the back of the truck to make sure I had not run into their mulch or shrubs, and I left. Could have been me, could have been any one of the number of construction guys they have working on their garage.  Honestly, I'm surprised they even called, they are usually very nice. Boss says "Okay, I'll see what I can smooth over."

I leave for the day and arrive with the dog at the door begging to go out.  It suddenly occurs to me that no one walked her all day. No worries, I think, and we go for a quick walk.  We get home and I prepare myself to scrub the dried poop from the carpet. Except it's not dry.  It's a giant new mess of diarrhea and grossness. Poor girl, no wonder she made a beeline for the door when I got home. So I trash the rug and make a mental note to replace it this weekend.

Then the cleaning begins.  Youngest was given a deadline, which was today, to get everything out of his room that shouldn't be there.  He knew I'd be cleaning. It was disgusting. But I will say that he did, for the most part, everything he was supposed to, and I checked everywhere. I was respectful of his things, only throwing out the actual trash (boxes, candy wrappers, school work from his junior year of high school) I found a book that needs to go back to the school.  I hung his wrestling awards. Made his bed.  Washed his blankets. It looks like a room he should want yo be in, not the crack head semblance of what it was, and it smells clean for the first time in years.

The husband came home and tells me the other side to my work story.  He works with the postmaster the latter half of the day and got wind of the wall story. Having no idea it was me, he got the run down, the postmaster says the video shows it was one rock, that was replaced, etc. No big deal.  Except now the guy is refusing to talk to the postmaster, he's filing charges with the police.

Awesome.

Seventeen years with nothing on my record. Not too worry though, I'll never set foot on their property again.  They can pick up everything at the post office from now on and I get to find out where that all goes tomorrow or Tuesday, we shall see.  Pretty sure this guy's not getting a whole new wall out of the deal though, particularly if he's using the video as evidence. It was one rock. Nothing I can do about it now.

Then as I'm cooking dinner, rather reheating a bowl of soup because that's all I have in me to make, when the small, completely unbreakable, Correlle plate I use to cover it hits the floor and shatters, just as the phone rings. 

It's the therapist calling me back.

Can't imagine why I'd need therapy, but I'm seeing her at 2 on Monday.

The End Of Chapter One...

It's over.

13 years of school, IEPs, wrestling, countless back and forth with teachers, administrators, etc. 

It's over.

Graduation happened on Saturday, June 6th, at approximately 9:10 am. It was awesome.  Students were put into four separate lots around downtown in their family car.  They were allowed to get out, and while distancing was not strictly enforced, I saw little contact more than a few fist bumps. Truth be told, I suspect many of them had been seeing each other long before this anyway. I saw a classmate that no one thought would graduate, not even his parents, and it made me hopeful.

An announcement was made that after attaching final decorations that everyone needed to be in their cars, ready to move.  In an organized fashion we traversed the street at 5mph down the waterfront to a huge stage where he'd receive his diploma.  There were banners across the street, teachers and administration lining the road, clapping and cheering them by name.  He exited the vehicle and waited on his socially distanced X on the sidewalk. His favorite teacher this year made him laugh before she announced his name. We drove up to the stage, I snapped pictures as it all happened, closer than I ever would have been able to be on the football field.  Televised, my sister and my parents were able to watch from home. He hopped back in the car aside the dog, because when the whole family is allowed, the whole family comes. She did her fair share of stealing his show. Our town is very historical, this year happens to be a monumental year for it.  In a way, it was fitting for the graduation to be in this location, and like nothing the town had ever seen.

On the exit street he jumped out to hug his 4&5th grade teacher.  She came on her own to see this class, his class, graduate.  It was special for sure.  Then it was down to the school where a parent had made a giant wipe board *diploma* the kids could sign and take pictures in front of.  His actual diploma, since there was no way to get the cars in perfect alphabetical order, were mailed out, and arrived on Saturday to complete his bifold.

We had a nice afternoon with my parents, sister and nieces and nephew.  We ordered from Youngest's choice restaurant, which is of course, what he had always wanted. Just dinner out, no fancy party. He invited two friends, who stayed for a bit, played cornhole, and left. Later he went and met up with a friend, and with most after parties cancelled, he visited the new girl for a few hours.  He was home an hour early.  All and all it was a good day.

But still, I wish it had been different.  I wish I had not seen what fell from his pocket at 830 am as he was about to cross the graduation stage.  I wish I had not known why the two friends were at the house, or why he met the other friend later.  And it saddens me to my core that all the after parties he was to attend, campfires with smores, fun around the fire pits, were not available for him because he has lost so many of his real friends throughout this whole process. His choices are costing him memories. He doesn't see it now, maybe someday he will. I wish he could have understood, and been okay with my husband's request to just give us two sober days with him. I wish I had not completely lost it 20 minutes before we were leaving, causing Oldest to not talk to me during the whole ceremony, or the husband and I dropping F-bombs in the kitchen as he walked away to finish getting ready.  I wish a lot of things had been different, but that's not how it is now, or who he is.

But it was a good day none the less.  I slept last night like I have not slept in months. I woke up energized and ready to take on the day.  I cleaned like others cleaned during the first days of quarantine. My kitchen table is completely clear of everything.  No masks, no sewing machine, no markers or poster board.  All my projects are complete.  I was able to bring in the plant I've nearly killed by putting it outside. My sheets are clean and the bed is made. Even under the bed is clean.  I am ready to move forward.

There's finally a period at the end of the sentence.

He's finished the chapter. 

And it's time for all of us to start Chapter two.

Two Days And Counting...

Two days before graduation, cap and gown pick up is today.  I took the day off just in case a check had to be written, or some odd and end that needed to be taken care of.

His plan was to head to the school at 10am. This meant that my whole day would not be monopolized by last minute changes. I went to pick up a special treat for him from the Scout Troop, visited a bit, dropped another treat by a friend's house, chatted with his mother and was by noon. He was going to bring the other treat bag by his friend's house and maybe get some lunch.  It was starting to look like a good day.

Until a friend called, and he decided to meet up, and he smoked himself into a comfortable coma, rendering himself unable to meet the other friend for lunch, pick up his accolades, or do much of anything, really. He fell asleep at one, and by two I will admit I was not nice when I woke him up.  Had I not taken the day off and driven him down to the school, he'd have stoned his way right out of participating in graduation.

I have moved past being disappointed.  He is the only one who can admit he has a problem, and he just doesn't see it.  In a matter of months, between corona and the senior slide I have watched him become someone I just don't even know any more. And while some things have been better, it's like I don't know who he is anymore.  He doesn't work out, and his nutritional health has taken a back seat.  He doesn't see any of his core friends (at first because of covid, now just because) He doesn't hang around the house, watch TV, read, or care about anything other than going out for a good time. There's a new girl, she's 20ish, seems nice, but something's just not right about her or them. I've moved past disappointed into full on angry. Angry that he's making this choice, they he doesn't see what he's doing, and that there's nothing I can do about it. I pray (yup me, praying) that this is just a summer phase. That he'll get back on track in the next month or two.

And I'm scared. His whole life we have put him on a road, and as he got older he decided where that road would go.  He'd have moments when he'd sit on the side of the road, wander off a path that loops back in, stop or run down it, but he'd always be going in the right direction. And now it seems he's off partying in the woods somewhere, and the fear is that in the ten weeks before he leaves for school he will not find the path through the forest that leads him back to the road in time. 

I can accept that he purposely tanked his fourth quarter grades. I can accept that he wants to enjoy his last summer.  I can accept that he's an adult and these choices are his own, as much as the consequences will be.  But I can not accept that I can't find any semblance of the kid I raised in him anymore.

And as I sit here looking at his cap and gown, captain pin, Eagle cords and mask with the HS logo, I can feel angry, sad, disappointed, and lost.  But I just can't seem to feel proud.

T-minus two days and counting.