Celebrating Mediocrity....

 A friend of mine has been in recovery for over twenty years. 

Someone once told her that of all the addictive substances out there, the most addictive is motherhood.  Motherhood is legal, everyone seems to be doing it, and it gets glorified on TV, magazines, and social media. This unrealistic glorification, makes the messy, difficult, mind numbingly exhausting realities of motherhood, daunting and hopeless. Once you get your first taste, you crave them with every ounce of your being when they're not there allowing your mind to delve into paranoia (see: they're dead in a ditch somewhere, I just know it, and endless nights of sleepless worry), yet get overwhelmed with angst when you're completely enveloped by them (see: lost in the weeds, locking myself in the bathroom.).   And yet despite this, motherhood always leaves you wanting more. In fact, the more kids you have, the higher the highs, and the more devastating the lows.

Motherhood is the habit you'll never, ever, be able to quit. 

In my post before last, I was accepting the reality of who this new version of Youngest is. The college stickers came off the cars, the dorm accessories have been sold. I forgot to cancel his med appointment, and not wanting to pay the hefty cancellation fee, I mentioned that I was going to sit on it if he'd like to join me. He opted to sit on it early, and leave me to finish it.  He's doubled his medications, and added an ADD medicine that he was successful with as a kid. The doctor's thought is that once the meds readjust, he may not need to self medicate as much and can move forward. He's missed one dose in three weeks.

The girlfriend and he seem to be done, though she's been over a few times. He's had maybe two "friends" over, alleviating the parking lot of cars we once had. I'd be lying if I said I thought we've turned a corner or that the new dosage of meds was a Hail Mary. But I am seeing small glimpses of a decent human being amongst the complete stupidity that is this nineteen year old living in the house. 

The other night he hugged me for no reason.  Like, no words, just really hugged me in the kitchen.  That hasn't happened in probably 6 years, and that's probably generous.

He took a college class at the local community college over the summer.  It was a miserable failure.  Two weeks before the final he was sitting at a 25%.  A Twenty five.  He wanted to quit. I told him there was a difference between cutting his losses and quitting.  Cutting his losses means that he's done what he can to make it work, but finally just accepting that it wasn't going to happen.  Quitting is just that, quitting. And no matter who he has become, quitting was never a part of who he was, ever.

So he worked.  And worked. Every day for two weeks....

Is it his best?  Hell no.  

And while I've never been one to celebrate mediocrity, this C means he doesn't have to start over, again. It means he can take that one, however tiny, step towards a life other that getting stoned in the garage.

Fall semester starts in 13 days. It has been paid for, and aside from a scheduling snafu, which he actually made a point to come home and fix with me today without my asking, he's enrolled full time. 

He's also opted to come on vacation with us, and while his idea of a fun vacation and mine are vastly different, I conceded with two conditions.  First, since I asked him before booking, whatever tickets I have already purchased would be paid for in full if he bailed out on them, and second, his location on his phone to be turned on so if he falls asleep in some bud induced haze on the beach and we had to be somewhere, we could find him.

He said that would be fine. 

Stay tuned....

42 Tickets Please...

 Back in the 80's the only church in our town brought in the carnival every summer.  Since it had absolutely no Catholic aspects whatsoever, I can only think that maybe they got a kick back of the profits when the week was out. Anyway, they set up every year on a tiny triangle of land conveniently located a quarter mile off the expressway ramp, right along the main drag in town. Shortly after school got out, we'd all watch as the truck rolled out the colorful, rubix cube of  twisted metal that would in a matter of hours be transformed into roller coasters, tilt-a-whirls, fun houses, and games booths of every type. 

We'd go every year, eat the overpriced sausages, burgers, cotton candy and candies apples, hoping to not toss all those goodies on the zero gravity later. The boys would succumb to the calls of the heckles of the carnies, spending countless time and money trying to win the girls the rarely obtained jumbo prize.  And the girls in turn would spend a few bucks later, winning it for themselves. The atmosphere was busy, lines for every ride, the smells of fried dough intoxicating, brought only into real life by the screams of terrified kids suspended for a bit too long upside down, and the reality that the guy running it hadn't showered in days and was missing several teeth. The atmosphere only got better after dark, when the colorful lights ramped up and day's humidity ramped down. 

I think the last year I went was my Junior year of high school, but that didn't stop any of us from spending the last few tickets riding down the Monster Slide on a scratchy burlap sack along side the toddlers. Some of the Senior boys, having just graduated, with no prospects of a trade or college, joined up with the show and traveled around for 6 months or so. A new town every 4 days, setting up, tearing down, a roof over their head, a bit of cash in their pockets.  At the time I thought they were crazy, now I think they were kind of brilliant. 

The church fair stopped sometime around 94, when our fairground was paved and became a CVS. The carnival came for a few years to surrounding towns, but it was never really the same. By the time my kids came along there were only two fairs still regularly running, but these were much larger, with livestock, artisans, and boasted the biggest pumpkin. Of course, I brought them, eyes rolling at how the ticket prices had skyrocketed, and how hard it was to traverse the entire grounds. We spent hard earned money on dart games and ring toss, which, it seems my kids always had a knack for. From inflatable sharks, to stuffed animals, to live fish, we brought it all home. After, of course, I carried it all back to the car because they were just too tired to carry it. 

So when the small carnival set up again at in the parking lot of what's left of the local mall, I was curious to see if it would hold any of the nostalgia it had when I was a kid. Oldest, not wanting to miss a potential good time, accompanied us last night. For a Saturday night, it was suspiciously not busy, the majority of patrons being parents and kids under 8.  The lights, sounds, and smells are the same of course, but being paved it was so much cleaner, with no threat of twisting ankles on grassy divots in the trampled grassy field, or getting eaten alive by mosquitos. And the heckles from the game booths just don't have the same ring when the employees have all their teeth and fresh haircuts. Oldest perused the overpriced toy booths until he found just the right one and bought it for himself. They got fried dough, covered in powdered sugar.  I attempted to get a strawberry sundae, except they were out of strawberries, so I settled for hot fudge which wasn't even topped with a cherry. 

And despite the fact that Oldest managed to cover me in powered sugar, ate some of my ice cream, and made me carry his toy around, it was just not enough to bring the nostalgia back.  I wonder if it's just another one of those things that's been changed forever, or if the enchantment was only because I was a kid, who had no idea how many tickets it would take to ride the good rides, and how much that would cost. Maybe part of the childlike wonderment was not wondering if I would need a bathroom shortly after I ate the sausage and peppers. Or knowing that I'd never sink that basketball into the hoop, regardless of how many shot I got for ten dollars. 

Funny how when you're young you want to grow up so badly. In hindsight, it's better I didn't know what I was in for. Otherwise, I'd wouldn't have any memories of small town summer fun, and no recollection of how many tickets that actually cost. 

Throwing In The Towel, Or Rather Selling It....

 "Motherhood is about raising and celebrating the child you have, 

not the child you thought you'd have." 

~The Water Giver

Youngest has returned home. Barely. He's abiding by the rules, briefly spending time at home when no one else is around. I added that he must stay overnight a minimum of 4 nights a week here and make it home on time if he wants to continue being here. This was conveyed via text of course because he is hardly never around to talk face to face, and responded to with the standard ok.  He is barely taking his medication, much to my disappointment.  If he leaves for good he won't take them anyways, and maybe if I stop harping on it, he may opt to take them on his own. The withdrawal is visible though, such a shame since it took 6 months to get them right. 

The Husband mentioned yesterday that he was scrolling through his phone and was overwhelmed with  sadness when he stumbled on old pictures of him a year ago.  So healthy.  Wrestling.  Eating. Focused. On a pathway for success. I told him it was time to let it go. It was time to take the HS wrestling and the college stickers off the truck.  It's not who he is anymore. And if by some lightning strike of a miracle, he pulls his head out of his ass and comes to his senses, he still won't be that person.  All those things do, the stickers, the hat and college alumni sweatshirt, is serve as a painful reminder of the path not chosen. 

He's forever changed himself. 

I calculated how much he will owe me for summer session.  I asked him at a brief encounter last night when he would have it for me.  He insists the session is not over and that he still has the chance to get a B, and until it is officially over he still has time to pay up his half of the money. He's passed in 2 more assignments.  His grade has gone from a 51 to a 56. Again, I'm reluctantly letting it go. The child that had focus and drive is now non existent, lost in a puff of skunky smelling smoke.

I texted him some highlights of our upcoming trip. He's not sure he wants to go as he may not have fun. I suggested that he look over some of the links, as you should never make a decision without knowing what you will regret not doing later.  I have no idea if he's taken the time to look at them or think about it at all. Communication is not something this new child does either.

I did the best I can with him, and I if I'm being truthful I'm not sure I could have done anything better. I know I was the right and best mother for him.  I think he just fell off the rails and now he's just being dragged along. Oldest sat on the couch with me last night, more in an effort to steal the good blanket, but we sat and watched TV nonetheless, chit chatting about nothing. It makes me furious that the sadness and loss of who Youngest was prevents me from fully enjoying the awesomeness of Oldest. Youngest is so much like his father it's becoming very hard for me to distinguish the two. He mentioned that it sucked, that the only person who could ever support him right now has been dead for ten years. Of course I cut him off, and told him he would not be supportive of his choices, simply because he knows how hard his life will be.  His father made all the same choices he is now, and his life was exponentially hard. He shrugged it off as usual, another invalidated truth now that his father's gone. 

I am tired of his playing the victim.  That he's somehow been wronged, or had a bad hand dealt.  These are his choices.  He chose to be homeless for the week.  He chose to puff his day away. He chose to distance himself from the family.  He's chosen to not do the work, and possibly fail out of school. I have supported everything he's ever wanted to do, karate 6 nights a week for 2 years, wrestling 3 hours away 5 days a week for 4 years, tournaments, hotel stays, Boy Scouts, even sending him a thousand miles away for the National jamboree. I sat in teacher conferences, advocated for him, and indulged every crazy idea he's ever had. Yet, if you ask him, we've never supported him at all. 

So I'm slowly letting it all go., and accepting this notion that he will ever be more than the childish, selfish boy in front of us now. I am selling off the dorm sheets and towels that have gone unused. I am scraping the stickers off the truck.  Packing away the championship jackets, the ghi for both karate and jujitsu. I am cancelling his med check appointment. I am giving up trying to save the child I raised for so many years.

And praying like hell the child he has become will save himself. 

Evil Eyes And Mushrooms...

 I'd like to say that things have been boring and uneventful here.

Oh, how I'd like to say that.

But the day after my last post we were back in the ER with the hubs for further investigation of his mystery illness. Turns out it was in fact pneumonia, but it was unresponsive to the original medication, so it had gotten worse, much worse.  While at the ER they noticed elevated cardiac enzymes as well so he's scheduled to have a follow up on that.  It took 4 days on another heavy duty antibiotic to get him headed in the right direction, but it was touch and go for a bit.

It has rained a ridiculous 21 of 24 days this month here. Some days are worse than others or course, but all the days have resulted in mushrooms, everywhere, bigger and weirder than ever...

Now if only we could keep the dog from sniffing them.  Thankfully she has no desire to eat them, so we can rule out mushrooms as the cause of her newest illness.  On Wednesday she had what appeared to be a seizure.  She was disoriented, shaking, and could not use her back legs.  It past in about a minute, and in about a hour she could walk again. I took her to the emergency vet, they checked her out and ran some bloodwork. She was sent home to be monitored since she appeared to have had nothing tangible wrong with her.  Today she had another episode, which upon reflection, looked more like a small stroke. So again, we were off to a different ER that had more specialists on staff.  And again, they had no idea what's wrong with her.  So we were sent home with meds, on the wait and see approach.  We have been given strict instructions to video the next one because without seeing it, there's not much more they can do, aside from running neurological tests to the tune of $3K.

Oldest is now dating the girl he met a few weeks ago.  She spent an extra weekend here, and he's spending an extra 5 days in California after we leave on vacation.  Ironically his happiness set off Youngest into a spiral, and he left the house. His "moving out" lasted a week.  He got nothing accomplished while gone, sleeping in his car for a few days, and then at a friend's, spiraling himself into a worse place, forgetting to take his meds and not completing any of his homework assignments for school.  Tonight he told me he opened the computer, got overwhelmed, and shut the computer down. So that's awesome, not only will he be taking the class again in the fall, he'll be paying for it again as well. On the plus side, I have channeled my frustration and stress into a T-shirt quilt for my niece. Did I mention I HATE quilting? It's every shirt from all her activities since she was 4... it's a surprise for her graduation next June, so no telling. Oh, and I broke my grandmother's sewing machine in the process and had to borrow my mother's spare, so there will be no more quilts made, like ever.

I did manage to get into an extra therapy session on Monday this past week.  My regular appointment is 2, but since I was being forced to work my day off, we moved it to 4.  Normally it would have been a challenge to make it there on time, but I managed to get out remarkably early so I took myself to lunch.  After lunch I  realized I had time to get my eyebrows threaded.  Seriously, it's been like 3 years since I've had them shaped.  So while I was there I noticed that they can now tint them as well. I have very blonde eyebrows, mixed now with a significant amount of gray, making them virtually invisible. So I figured why not, right? Except I forgot that I have a scar above my eye that makes my eyebrows uneven....

So for the next 3 weeks I need to give the evil eye to everyone so they balance out. This, friends, THIS is the reason I should not have free time and $30 extra dollars.

*sigh*

I feel a mental breakdown coming in 5...4....3...2....

Just The Status Quo....

 I'm hiding away writing for a bit today. 

I have already been thoroughly drenched by the morning's rain while attempting to walk the dog and running a few errands before my doctor's appointments start later this afternoon. I say attempting because she was adamant that her Dad walk her this morning and I was literally dragging her down the street in protest at 630 am before finally caving and bringing her back, soaking wet, to his bedside. But mostly I'm hiding from my husband who has relapsed into another mysterious illness, for day one of his vacation, rendering him unable to help with his normal sidekick duties.

It appears that when you tell the whole world to wear a mask for a year and to stay inside whenever possible, that the minute you tell them they can resume a normal life, the germs do as well.  And when that announcement corresponds with pollen season, it will not go well.  Oldest ended up with a sinus infection, Youngest, walking pneumonia, and for myself and the husband, bronchitis.  My cough still persists, mostly due to post nasal goo. The husband's antibiotics didn't work, so he returned to the walk in clinic yesterday for a reevaluation.  They found a spot on his lung that they are treating as pneumonia even though they can't hear it, and are hoping it just goes away. Seriously... this is the medical advice one gets with GOOD insurance. *sigh*  So he's binge watching excessively loud TV shows making it impossible for me to concentrate, sleeping alone in the bed so I don't wake him up unnecessarily, and gasping for air when the coughing gets excessive. 

Oldest recently revamped his dating profile on Tinder, adding more humor and a few buzz words indicating he was not looking for a casual thing in the hopes that he could narrow his field a bit. Tings like not looking for anything serious, just a wife and two kids... and fluent in English, sarcasm, and superheroes. The next day he got a reply from someone, also not looking for anything  serious, just a husband and two dogs.  They have talked everyday.  She had changed her radius, as she was vacationing on the Vineyard, and had found his profile since we are within an hour of there. He went to visit her for the day and they hit it off.  Her Mom allowed her to change her flight out at the end of their month long vacation to include a small detour in Boston this upcoming weekend so I will get to meet her this weekend. As it turned out, she lives 30 minutes from where we are vacationing in August, and she's coming back in October to see her best friend in Boston who is attending school next door to Oldest's University. Currently she is headed for college in California, but being that her first choice had been Suffolk in Boston, if this continues through Christmas, I suspect we have not seen the last of her. Part of me wants him to proceed with caution, the pother part of me thinks this could be really good for him.  We'll see how it all pans out.

Youngest's lungs are clear, and a visit with his regular doctor has confirmed that his daily vomiting is in fact Cannabinoid hyperemesis syndrome or CHS.  And because he won't quit smoking, he's now on another pill twice a day to limit the damage that regular vomiting does to the body in hopes that he will come to his stupid senses sooner rather than later.  He and the girl have finally split for good this time I think. He's stopped working in the ice cream place, which is good, but hasn't looked for another job, which is not good.  He continues to work for door dash, which brings in money but has no set routine which is what he needs. He continues to tell me he's doing his schoolwork, logging in on time, and completing most of his assignments. In September he will be in person, fulltime, for school which will provide some much needed routine and hopefully some new, drug free, faces. He's been all over the map lately between wanting to be part of the family and being a total jerk. He didn't come home again last night, calling me to let me know, so I could take my cough medicine to sleep soundly which was considerate, but then we found him sleeping in his car at the pond this morning, which was stupid. Some days it's easier to shake my head and walk away. I texted him to ensure he was alive, got a text right back, sent another to see if he was coming home soon, and got no response. It's been 2 hours. There's a huge part of me that wishes we lived where he could afford to be on his own. Or, that I could afford to buy a small investment property for him to rent from me. Our relationship would be much better the less I know. But until the market crashes or his frontal lobe develops, I guess we'll just keep playing the lottery. 

So, yeah.. currently hiding away in my bedroom attempting to block out the noise inside and outside my head today. I may take a stab and working on my niece's t-shirt quilt as the day progresses and the house fills with even more noise.  My work space is in the basement which is quiet, and I need quiet, especially as it's my one day off for the month, and at the rate I'm going I'll get nothing done unless it's behind a locked door and padded walls.

 

 

A Bit Under The Weather...

I had a therapy session on Monday. 

It did not go well.

I've been seeing this therapist for some time now, and I really like her, but as she reminded me this week, I am not just here because of Youngest. No matter how much I want to blame all my stress on him.

She kept asking me what I get in return from taking care of everyone.

Well, Duh... it's just who I am. It's what I do.  It's what I always have done. Since I was, like, four.

Except that it's not who I am, it's what I do. (Insert eye roll here as this is what I consistently say to Youngest about his choices of late.) This of course, sent the brain spinning in all directions, some healthy, some not.  Most thoughts involving a deep need for ice cream. 

Looking back, I can see that in the beginning I did it because I would be needed and more needed I was, the more important I was. My self worth was completely tied into how dependent other people were on me. Then my kids were born, and they like, actually needed me.

And quickly I realized that if you could dress yourself and drive a car, I didn't need to be taking care of you. My husband at the time of course didn't like that, as he had become so dependent that when I was no longer there, he in fact, didn't survive. 

I spent a lot of time in therapy figuring out that what I wanted was to not be needed, but to be wanted,  and I settled for nothing less.  The husband, regardless of how lost he says he'd be without me, was a fully functioning adult before we met and I took over nearly every facet of his life.  

Because that's what I do, I take care of things. I'm a organizer, a planner, a list maker, and he was just fine with that. Unlike before, it's now a choice to do these things for others.  I see that we are almost out of the boy's Banza chickpea pasta and choose to pick up more.  I choose to help navigate health insurance waivers for Oldest's college. I ensure everyone is taking the right cold medicines at appropriate times and choose to take the day off to ensure that Youngest gets his chest x-rayed tomorrow and not just an it's a cold, go home from the on call doctor tomorrow. Now a days I choose this, for those I love most, therefore making it a substantial part of who I am. I take care of others, because I feel better knowing that their life is a bit easier.

I don't see this as a flaw. But I can see how, if I'm not careful, even being selective on who I do the most for, will leave me wiped out and empty, unable to help anyone. What my therapist doesn't see is the progress I've made in saying no. The amount of phone calls that go unanswered because I know my limits, and family functions I don't attend because I just don't want to. That I am surrounding myself with  people who understand what I'm going through and bring as much to the table as I do. And perhaps the most important thing, that I am purposefully doing things for no recognition at all in an effort to break my psychological correlation of other's appreciation and my self worth. 

It is not an easy task friends.

Yesterday I was cleaning out mail boxes along the route as I've been training someone for the past week.  I stopped at every box, ensure the correct mail was there, and cleaned out mistakes, etc. along the way. I have an older gentleman on the route who I routinely talk to. I noticed his box was stuffed extra full and started to ensure it was all his. When I noticed it was a full week's worth of mail, I made the decision to take 2 minutes out of my day to go to the door.  He didn't answer.  I checked in with a few neighbors, one who had seen him 4 days ago. He said he'd ask another neighbor who had a key. I thanked him, said it was most likely nothing, but if he could check in that'd be great and I went on my way. The old me might have done more, but the new me knows my limits.

Thing is, he was not okay. Living alone, he sat naked, most likely an effort to stay cool in the massive heat wave we were having, in his recliner eating dinner, when something went wrong.  His house was unkept and by the time the neighbors found him, incoherent, in this state it had been days, the food was rotting, he was filthy, and the rats were everywhere. He's been removed from the home.  The home will be condemned. He is alive but will likely not be back.  He does not talk to his sons.  He has no one else. 

Most carriers in my office would have just kept stuffing the mailbox. He's alive because I chose to spend two minutes of my day making sure he was okay. And I will not apologize for that. It's who I am. It's who I choose to be.

Some day I will be gone, and the legacy that I want to leave is not that of a doormat, but that of a difference.  That my existence in others lives made a difference to them. Be it from 2 minutes on the mail route, or a lifetime of second chances and unconditional love. Or, maybe just a balance between the two. Because if not caring about people is the way for me to be healthy, I think I'm okay with being a little bit under the weather. 

If You Give A Girl Some Plywood....

 She'll probably want some two by fours to go with it.

We live in roughly 900 square feet.  The basement, which technically adds an additional 900 sq feet of sanity, is partially finished into two rooms, one was Bonus son's during his brief stay between the expiration of his lease and the closing of his condo, and the other is Youngest's. Space here, is a commodity, and organization is key. 

When Oldest moved out for college, I built a closet organization system for him. I waited until he moved out because honestly it was a lot easier to do when he wasn't here, living in it, daily. And when he came home for Christmas, it was a nice surprise.

When Youngest decided to stay in the smaller room downstairs after Bonus Son left, the plan was to wait until he left for school as well for the same reason, and also because he tends to be collector of all things. 

The. Boy. Has. Stuff.

Except he never left for college, so we've had to do things as we can, working around his collections busting at the seems.  The heat ducts were finally connected in January, and in March we did a clean sweep of his clothes that no longer fit and books that could be boxed up for enjoyment on another day. He has a difficult time letting go of things, combined with his laziness, he often ends up with a strange collection of items from his past, like stuffed animals alongside barbed wire from West Point, comingled with empty Amazon boxes, candy wrappers, and sea glass from the beach. I will spare you the before pictures of his room....

Since it appears as though he will be living here at least until January, I figured it was about time to get him organized. I came up with a basic design, knowing that when he does move out I will use it as a sewing room. I told him three days ago that it was going to happen.  I asked for him input, and got a whatever you want Mom... so this morning I got some plywood...

Cost is a big factor in this project, and durability. So I started measuring, and then the husband started with the cutting, since he's far better at achieving straight lines than I am. 

The 18" legs allowed for storage bins underneath.  Storage is key for this boy.  The larger platform is for his yogibo, which is like a giant bean bag bed, that until now we've had no place for. I was smart enough to have the two sections screw together so it would move in and out of the basement door easily.  I know, so unlike me to be thinking ahead. And get this, the platform can be disconnected and longer legs can be added, so when he does move out,  it will become the perfect sewing table.  Win, win.

Basically I just kept adding shelves until I ran out of 2X4's.  I was bound and determined to have as little waste as possible.  In the end, I have nothing but 2X4 sawdust and one 12" X 4' shelf left over, which I think will be fashioned into a prop box for the television on another day. 

This took about an hour.  Taking everything out of his room, cleaning, putting it all inside, securing it all together, and rehoming everything?  Another 2 hours. At one point Youngest came home, saw his room was destroyed, and walked back out.  Sometimes it's better to not be around when your mother is elbow deep in literally every crack and crevice of your room, and even better for me, I found nothing unexpected or exceptionally gross. I also discovered that at one point we had a squirrel in the house, as  literally every bin this boy had had a pile of acorns in it. 

And so, for 3 hours and $90 including tax, the boy has a non-stinky, air conditioned place to hang with a friend and play his Nintendo switch without waking us all up. 

I sent a picture to the neighbor across the street. She's SO EXCITED she would no longer need to hang out in the musty garage when she wants to chat late at night. She's already organizing a gaming Nintendo marathon tonight weather he likes it or not.

I'm just excited I can see the floor again.

 

On The Lighter Side....

I've been working an excessive amount of OT lately. The end goal is money for our vacation so that if something comes up I can, without hesitation, say yes.  Hot air balloon ride? Yes please. Fancy smancy dinner out? Yup. Room service because sometimes you just have to be lazy? Hell yes. 

We leave for San Francisco in two-ish months.  Two and a half days there, then road tripping to Santa Cruz for another two days. We plan to travel the pacific coast highway for the best scenes, stop in Big Sur, hit some touristy stuff in San Fran, see the redwoods and Salsalito, and take in the virtual immersive Van Goh exhibit for which we have already secured tickets. It's a lot, but I have 4 days off when we get back to rest up.  It will be nice to get away as a family again, and to celebrate our tenth anniversary.

Ten years. Crazy.  Doesn't feel like a day over 30 years.

On my rare day off a month (aside from Sundays) I've been catching up with my Mom, and meeting friends for lunch.  It's nice to have some one to talk with that is going through more or less the same struggles with their kids that I am. Things ebb and flow with Youngest and it's exhausting.  Oldest is gone 11 hours a day and on weekends his butt is planted firmly in a chair on the beach. It's nice being a quarter mile from the ocean. Youngest prefers the pond, as he's more free to be himself without getting arrested. At least for now. 

For me, the backyard is becoming my sanctuary. 

Hubs does a great job at keeping everything alive for me.  So good in fact we spent much of Sunday morning before the heat rolled in  splitting, thinning, and repotting all kinds of plants for my friend from work. 

As for work, we are currently in the middle of a heat wave..... 

Meanwhile... in the mail truck....

Thankfully I am training so while my days are longer in the office, my road time is shorter. The heat is supposed to break tomorrow night which is good, because I feel like my insides have been thoroughly cooked through. My trainee is doing well, but it is still mentally challenging to be training for weeks at a time. And because I am not an official trainer I literally get nothing for my efforts other than knowing she is properly trained. My old substitute, that I adore, is making career and has requested to come back to my route, so this new trainee won't even carry for me aside from a week or two.  If management listens to me, she'll then move to another vacant route to train, and she'll likely stay on as his permanent sub. It's unlikely they will listen to my suggestions though, as there's a huge disconnect between management and staff.  The postmaster has been investigated twice for mistreatment of the employees.  Its' getting scary folks.  Like, really concerning.

My niece and I are touring two more colleges in three weeks.  At this point I think we are just visiting to visit, as I believe she may have found her happy place with our first tour.  It's also the cheapest one, which makes her parents happy.  I still can't believe she's almost 18, and going into her senior year. especially since I'm not aging, Not. One. Bit.

And lastly, the heat has brought out the swimmer in the girl. Once afraid of the water, if not watched carefully she now runs in full boar during our walks, stopping short of getting her head wet. Which is so funny to watch, not so funny to smell or wash out when we get home.  

Pond water + triple coats of husky hair = a special funky smell. 

Wait... is that a squirrel?

There's a good sniff over here...

And here...

Since last weekend the pond has been packed.  It's nice to get a few moments at night when there's almost no one around.  But it does provide for many, many good, highly distracting, sniffing spots.

And with that, I am off to eat dinner, before the chaos begins again.  

An Unexpected Reset....

 The weather has been getting warmer and warmer here.  So warm that we had to turn on the air conditioning for the dog. It sounds crazy, I know, but until we did she just hid under the bed all day, seeking out the coolest place in the house. 

So it would come as no surprise with the holiday weekend coming up, the temperatures dropped like they had seen a state trooper in the rearview mirror. And with the cold, came the rain.  Lots and lots of rain. Truth be told, a rainy weekend tends to slow everything down, prompting a much needed reset.  

The lure of overtime drew me to work on Saturday. I left work around two, only to return with an old nightstand I was repurposing at the office and an updated news bulletin board that, since it's install that afternoon, has since gotten a lot of attention. Morale has been at the lowest point I have ever seen, and a few of us are working to find ways to recognize and connect us all.  Currently I am working on a perpetual plaque to honor retirees.  What started as a small project now has me recognizing retirees from as far back as 95, some of whom have long since passed on. Once the drop off and installs were done I headed to the grocery store for some desperate restocking.  Among the ingredients were all the fixings for chili and gluten free honey cornbread. The day certainly called for it, and nothing makes me feel more in the moment than chopping and sautéing, hearing the sizzle in the pan, smelling the fresh baked cornbread in the oven. It's comfort food for the soul.

Sunday called for more grocery shopping, bulk stuff this time, restocking the dog's essentials, and the garden center for a little treat for myself.

(The ever elusive yellow peonies)

The husband and I knocked it all out in about three hours which left plenty of time for early afternoon napping.  Recharged from our power naps, the husband worked on selling and listing sports cards while I tackled the garage.  It's been Youngest's clubhouse for some time now and it needed some serious cleaning and organizing, as well as a thorough checking for unexpected things.  Thankfully there were none.  

The rain continued long into the night, so my inside projects continued. While  switching the laundry over, I noticed there was water was seeping in under the door.  In 16 years we've never flooded in through the basement door, but a quick check revealed that there was about 9 inches of water collected at the bottom of the back stairs. So there we were, the bucket brigade, shoveling bucket after bucket against the tide, or in this case the raging storm.  The husband took the 5 minutes I went into the house to get the ladder and climb on the roof to unclog the gutters.  

I could have killed him, if the rain, winds, or fall didn't.

Thankfully, he returned to earth unscathed, aside from getting stabbed in the butt by the nearby grapevine. Serves him right for not listening to me. So with the water diverted and the dehumidifier running, we finally called it quits. I believe the news reported that we got nearly 4 inches of rain throughout the night. Thankfully, only a small amount of it was in the basement.

Monday was far less exciting, more laundry and hanging out watching TV. My Mum's been trying to catch up on holidays we've missed over the last year so we headed to her house for Chinese food and family.  Youngest did not go, which is a story for another day, and I'd be lying if I said his absence didn't bother me. But like I said, that's a story for another day.

Because today's story is one of clearing the clutter, resetting the day, appreciating the sunshine's return, and embracing the rain... when it's not flooding the basement. 

A reset if you will....

Of the earth.

Of the home.

Of my mind.

The Fixer...

Him: "Why did you buy those flowers?  They're not looking so good."

Me: "Because I am the fixer of the broken.  I can heal them."

Sixteen years ago when I bought this house I was a single mother of two toddlers working part time at the Post Office.  Money was beyond tight some weeks, others were not as bad. But there was never a week with enough to indulge on myself. Ever. Diapers needed to be bought, mouths needed to be fed, every penny needed to be watched.  But one day, while delivering mail to the local garden center I noticed a scraggly bush, way in the back, with a 75% off tag.  It was wonky, stood a bit sideways, and had hardly any leaves. $20 and it was mine. I was the hoarder of all things broken, fixer of all things, plants and people alike.

Which has always been my problem, really.  The broken people always find me, they come to be healed, use up everything I have, and walk away.   Oldest had a date this weekend with a girl he met through Tinder. They spent the day together down at the waterfront, walking off their overpriced, sugar-coma inducing, monster milkshakes with a five mile walk along the massive rock jetty out into the Atlantic Ocean. It left a lot of time for real conversation.  Somehow the conversation turned to past relationships, in which he told her he was the "healer of the broken".  She said she was too. It's an odd thing to have in common, but let's face it, two healers together are far better than the alternatives. In that moment, I think I saw more clearly than ever, that he is just like me.  So I asked him the question that I have been struggling with for weeks,  "Where do the the ones that everyone turns to to make things better go? Where to the healers go when they are broken?"

"Therapy" he says.

I am different.  I get that.  I see solutions that no one else sees, have an internal drive that is incomprehensible to most, and can be strong in nearly every area of my life.  I am, without embarrassment, one of the strongest people I know. And the truth is, I do go to therapy, or here, when I am broken. Because in real life, no matter how many memes or quotes I post on the book of faces, or how many tiny comments I make, it is rarely picked up on by those around me.  It flies completely under the radar because she is strong, and she can handle everything.

And while I have long lost the desire to fix broken people, they still find me. They know where I live. Occasionally they get in with a proverbial key forgotten under the mat, and I find myself furious with my decision to let them stay regardless of how short lived it is.  I don't answer the phone for most of them anymore. Their texts are left unanswered. I try to explain this to the Husband and he tries his best to validate it, but inevitably takes a left turn into fixing, saying to turn it off, stop listening to the voices in my head, This or that is not on me. As if it were that easy. Youngest is broken. Partly his own doing, partly just the course of nature. He wants to be grown, independent, but still needs a parent. And in acknowledging this, he specifically doesn't want me, which is the hardest pill to swallow. We have always been connected in a Jedi mind melding sort of way. We play off each others chaos and calm, feeding off the energy of those around us. I do what I've always done, model what he needs, work with what I'm given, fly by the seat of my pants, always there for him, and he does not want it. I can not fix him. I can not heal him. And yet, I can not quit him.

The desire to care for things is just in me.  To take the old abandoned 100 year old steamer trunk and make it beautiful again.  To grow the wonky 75% off bush into a stunner of the backyard....

or the half dead, burnt leaves of whatever....

into a centerpiece of red, pink, and yellow begonias to be amazed by all summer long. 

It's an inherent in me as my blue eyes and chunky thighs, it's just part of who I am.

I am the fixer of all things broken.

Everybody Wants To Rule The World....

Welcome to your life, there's no turning back

Even while we sleep, we will find you

Acting on your best behavior, turn your back on Mother Nature,

Everybody wants to rule the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~

But very few want to do the work.

I recently reconnected with an old friend. To share a bit of backstory, we were co-workers turned friends, she was getting remarried and had asked me to be her Maid of Honor in her small backyard ceremony.  It caused quite a commotion within her family, there was a falling out with the Bridesmaids. She, myself and another friend went to NYC for a girls weekend before the wedding. We had a great time. The wedding came and went, and I could see she was off somehow. A week later she checked herself into rehab.  Apparently she'd had an issue with alcohol for quite sometime.  I never saw it, not even on the weekend away. She had left my workplace to take a M-F desk job before the wedding, it was easy to fall out of touch. And with my history with alcoholics, I was not who she needed and she definitely was not healthy for me and my compulsive need to heal the wounded. 

Fast forward two years and we've been talking quite a bit.  She's sober, but unhappy with many things, her current state of unemployment being one. We've spent hours talking about the kids, stress, Corona, her husband, her need to reconnect with a workplace and find her identity again. HOURS.  She decided to come back to work with us, applied, and waited.  She was offered another position in a different office. She was excited, as this would answer a lot of the frustrations she was having, and allow her to move forward financially, and mentally for her family.

I called the other day to see how she liked the other office, and to let her know we were looking into the possibility of an external career bid for our office, which in 18 years, I've never seen happen. Only to find that she didn't take the job. That she, in fact, was doing the exact opposite of everything she knew she should be doing, and thought maybe she'd revisit it in August, when things settled down.

Um, What?

I'm not sure why people tell me things but they do. People come to me for advice, and I don't candy coat things. Perhaps, it's because it appears that I have my ducks in a row. I don't, but I do know how to do the work so that my ducks are typically all in the same room. And normally I am okay with this, as I've learned how to listen, help, and walk away. I've learned the hard way to care, but not to get too involved in the outcome. Except here, when I've spent hours going over the same things, with the same results, and the same frustrations. It's time to walk away again for my own sanity, which is exceptionally hard for me. Ruling one's world takes hard work and even harder choices, none of which she's ready for. And perhaps saddest of all, her kids will see her survive, but never thrive. Two very different things.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's my own design, it's my own remorse

Help me to decide,

Help me make the most of freedom, and of pleasure

Nothing ever lasts forever,

Everybody wants to rule the world.

~~~~~~~~~~

Youngest announced that he is stopping therapy. Her list is a mile long of patients who need to see her,  his appointments keep changing and he's losing track, causing expensive co-pays for misses and reschedules. I believe that it was a good check in for him, but honestly if he's not ready to deal with the underlying causes of his problems, there's not much anything can do for him. He still can't articulate his anger with his father. He's still smoking.  He's still struggling with the on again off again girlfriend. He's still being bailed on by friends. He still can't sit still or alone with his thoughts for 10 minutes.

But, he other day he asked me to show him how to log into the college portal to set up his summer class. He asked me to help him schedule an oil change. He agreed that maybe it was time to see a specialist to see how much damage he's done to his stomach. He's not ready to change anything, mind you, but it would be good to find out if anything can be done and if he's caused permanent damage. And for the most part, he's coming in on time, and for now, stopped looking for a new place to live.

Change is hard. 

~~~~~~~~~~

There's a room where the light won't find you,

Holding hands when the walls come tumbling down,

When they do I'll be right behind you,

~~~~~~~~~

This one, I can't walk away from. He's 19, not 35. He's seen the hard work, he knows the sacrifices I make to keep things running. I see school as a huge opportunity for him to move forward, and to enforce this,  We reached an agreement for the rest for this year. He gets a B, I pay for half of the class.  He gets a C, he pays for it in full.  He gets an A, I pay. We take all aid out in his name, so he can build his credit no matter who pays for it. It's community college.  He can ace all the classes if he focuses, and he knows it.  I can afford to pay for that if I work overtime, and he is well aware of that sacrifice that I will make for him. And we will revisit the plan each semester he's in school full time, provided he's living at home, since that is the responsible coast effective way to move forward right now.

What no one knows (other than the Hubs) is that I'm debating changing routes.  Something I said I'd not do, but if the stars align, it could make things a lot easier financially here. I can and if the opportunity presents, will do that for him, for us.  It will be hard, but it's what I have to do to rule my little world.

And the hope is, that in him knowing this, it will serve as an example of how to rule his. 

~~~~~~~~~~

All for freedom and for pleasure,

Nothing ever lasts forever,

Everybody wants to rule the world.

                           ~ Tears For Fears