Life is full of surprises, some of them good, some of them mediocre and some of them downright awful. Meeting my future husband at age 24 was a good surprise. … Continue reading Build Me Up, Buttercup!
Tag: family
The Straw That Broke All the Camels Backs
Disclaimer: These are my thoughts and opinions. You are not obligated to read them. They are not all sunshine and roses. But this is how I deal. This is my therapy. This is how I get it out and this is how I roll on. Read at your own risk. Also, I use the fuck word. A lot.
I knew that everybody getting all psyched up about 2020 coming to an end was going to be a mistake. Just because time continues to march on does not mean that anything has changed. I saw a meme just today that said “New year, new me….ntal breakdown” and nothing in my life has ever been more fucking accurate.
Today our school board met to determine if our children should remain in remote learning or return to school on some kind of from home/in school hybrid basis. I did not get my hopes up. For the most part anyway. I understand the county I live in, I understand the people that make the decisions and I understand that my opinion really doesn’t count for shit. Hence why I’m here writing about it because it’s the only way I really know how to express myself. Not that I really need to say, but they chose to stay in 100% remote. What. The. Fuck.
My children are my life. They kind of have to be seeing as how I’m basically all they have. That’s not true. There are a good amount of people that love and care for them. However, on the regular, all they get is me. And I’m a pretty good mom. I do ok. They could definitely do worse. As a matter of fact, I have a coffee mug that states “Not the worst mom”, so I have that going for me (and them), which is nice. But they need more than me. And that has never been more evident than it is now.
Warning: Here’s where I get super whiney – but I’m going to whine, I’m going to get it out of my system, I’m going to play the woe is me card – and then I’m going to be ok. And then I’m going to wine. (See what I did there?!)
My children have not known normal for about 3 years now. They watched their father die. For 13 months. They watched him wither away. They watched him throw up. They watch him sleep. They watched us constantly leave them for nonstop doctor appointments. They watched him get admitted to the hospital countless times. THEY WATCHED THEIR FATHER DIE. They were shuffled back and forth between grandparents and uncles and friends. And they handled it like the little champions that they are. Because they are fucking champions.
But my little fucking champions are fucking breaking. Their abnormal lives are just now taking their/its/a (I’m not sure what’s grammatically proper here) fucking toll. My 11 year old cries. All. The. Time. He had a routine doctor appointment just last week. The tears started when returning to therapy was mentioned. They continued when he was informed he was due for 3 vaccines. And they really started fucking rolling when his twig and two berries were checked out (twig and berries accounted for and progressing as they should FYI). He cried the whole way home. He sat on the porch and cried and wouldn’t come in the fucking house. Because he is fucking breaking. Last night, we decided to watch a family movie (which, as a side note, has been kind of difficult for us – watching family movies that is – because our “family” is abnormal. For us.). We watched “The One and Only Ivan”. We read the book last year so we knew exactly what to expect. *Spoiler Alert* We knew it got sad, we knew Stella died. We knew Ivan saved Ruby. We knew everything that was going to happen. However, knowing it and actually watching it happen are two very different things. Do you know how many times Jack had “to go to the bathroom” last night during this 1 hour and 37 minute movie? It was seven. Do you know why he went to the bathroom 7 times? It’s because he was so upset about everything that he couldn’t even handle being in the room with the 2 people he trusts most in this world – his brother and his mother.
I will admit that my eyes were not dry either. We are all quicker to cry these days. Nothing is normal for anyone. I get that. However, my 11 year old son was inconsolable last night. I will be honest and say that he never grieved when his father actually passed away. He maybe cried about 4 tears and returned to business as usual. So I’m not saying that his behavior is abnormal at this moment. I am grateful that he is feeling. That is necessary. He had a lot of questions last night that he never asked at the time of death. How did I know daddy was dead? What happened? What was I doing? Why did daddy never hug me before I left? Why is all he did was sleep? Daddy never said goodbye. All things that I didn’t realize were happening at the time. I didn’t realize my children didn’t officially say goodbye to their father. I didn’t realize that Ash didn’t officially say goodbye to Jack and Colt. I should have noticed, but I was so busy being wrapped up in easing Ash’s pain, that I guess I forgot. How awful is that? But clearly they (and especially Jack) haven’t forgotten. Jack is pulling away from all of his friends. He never wants to see them. He never wants to play. He only wants to be around his brother and me. We are his safety net, I get that. However, it begs the question, if he were in school, if there were some sense of normalcy to his life, would he feel the same way? I tend to lean towards no.
Colt is also having his own difficulties. Virtual school for a 6 year old is not ideal. He does ok. I do ok with him. But he breaks down all the time also. He can’t sit still for google meets, because what 6 year old can? I have to be right next to him at all times to keep him on task and even then, he’s rarely ever on task. He’s wildly brilliant, though, in an outside the box kind of way (just like his father). And educationally, I know he will be fine. Socially? That’s another story. He’s different. He’s not naturally social. And that’s ok. We all march to the beat of our own drum. But he’s been out of the “normal” social scene for so long, I’m afraid of what it looks like for him when it does eventually return. He also breaks down far more often. He’s good about talking about his dad, unlike his older brother, but he is not good at handling adversity. He doesn’t like it when things change. It makes sense, given that the biggest change of maybe his entire life happened when he was 5 years old. He wants everything. And I do mean everything. Like acquiring more shit will fill the gaping hole that has been left in his beautiful heart.
I get it. The world is in turmoil. The world is fucking crazy. My kids deserve better than that, though. Your kids deserve better than that. We all deserve better than that. I don’t know what the answer is. Faith. Love. God. And maybe, just maybe, a little more fucking normalcy. For everyone.
PS – It’s also the fucking 12th of the month. Fucking figures. (If you’ve forgotten, Jonesie passed away November 12, 2019 – that’s exactly 14 months ago. But who’s counting? It’s me. I’m fucking counting.)
Big, Big Feelings
It’s been a while since I’ve written. Not since I almost burnt down our house. We’ve been busy, sort of. I mean, as busy as one can be in the … Continue reading Big, Big Feelings
Grateful?
Thanksgiving was Ash’s favorite holiday. Which is no surprise. If you knew Ash, I’m certain you knew the top 5 loves of his life and I’m certain food may have come in first place followed closely by golf, his 2 sons and then maybe me. So again, with his love of food, of course Thanksgiving was his favorite holiday.
Last year was our first one without him, and while I’m sure we felt his loss, it was all so new (him being dead and all) and we had so many people trying to keep us distracted, it wasn’t nearly as hard as I thought it was going to be. We went to my parents (we actually spent the night there, which may sound normal to those that travel for Thanksgiving, but my parents literally live 7 minutes away, so spending the night wasn’t exactly necessary). We had a fried turkey and a smoked turkey and all the normal trimmings. I may have teared up a time or two throughout the day but it was mostly uneventful, emotionally wise. We did have the moment where my mom’s curtains fell off the wall of their own accord (which was actually quite hilarious – you may or may not know this (because I may or may not have already written about it) but Ash and I had a history of breaking curtains in hotel rooms every time we traveled. It started on our honeymoon in Antigua – we consumed entirely too many Jack and Coke’s, returned to our room in a drunken, laugh-filled stupor, attempted to close the curtains, couldn’t close the curtains so clearly used more force, more strength because that was most definitely how to fix the problem and ripped the curtains right from the wall. It didn’t stop there. We had a streak for quite a while of ripping curtains right off the wall in our ignorant attempts to draw them closed nearly everywhere we went.) So I felt like that was Ash’s little sign last year, to say hi, to let us know he was ok and to make us laugh.
Anyway, that was a really long winded paragraph to basically say we made it through our first major holiday without Ash pretty unscathed. This year, I don’t quite feel the same. I am lacking in the holiday spirit, if you will. We decorated for Christmas on November 11 (don’t judge us, we needed some cheering up and nothing cheers my children up more than Christmas and decorating and colorful lights). And it helped for that day. But I feel like (and bear with me here, this is going to sound really overly dramatic. Because it is overly dramatic.) my holiday spirit is currently on life support. I am no longer excited about any of it. I used to be great at Christmas and not to toot my own horn here, but I was great at giving gifts. It’s one of my talents, and I don’t have many, so I’ll boast about the few I do have. I love the music, the movies, the spirt and decor, the shopping, the baking (ok, I love watching my mom do the baking), the eating, the planning and gift giving and holiday lights and all the things that are everything Christmas. And now, I’m not necessarily dreading it but I can’t say that I’m too hyped up about it either. I have no idea what to give anyone. I could careless about listening to the music or watching the movies. It’s like there’s this big dark cloud (kind of like the ones outside right now raining down on Ash’s favorite holiday – thanks, babe. Again.) parked over my soul, sucking all the joy out of all the things I used to love. (I told you I was going to be overly dramatic.)
And it’s probably not as drab and dreary as I’m letting on. But I’m having a hard time finding my holiday joy. I’m having a hard time finding the motivation to even care that it’s the holidays. Don’t worry. I will put on my happy face and make it as good as I possibly can for my children. But once they go to bed, and I’m alone, I feel this overwhelming exhaustion from pretending all day that this doesn’t suck, that I’m fine without my husband, that I’m a great single mother, that I don’t spend most of my day barking orders and cleaning up messes that I didn’t make or yelling at little people to clean up the messes that I didn’t make. It’s all exhausting. And overwhelming. And just a general pain in the fucking ass. I’m tired. I’m the opposite of jolly. And my family deserves better than that. But I haven’t quite figured out how to snap out of it.
Yesterday I decided to not yell at my children all day. And I was mostly successful. So maybe that’s a step in the right direction. And I realize that I have so much to be grateful for and that my life is good and we’re very fortunate for everything we have. Just right around this time, it’s easy to feel very unfortunate for what we don’t have.
Ok, pity party over. I will put my smile on. I will enjoy this day with my family. I will focus on what I do have. Happy fucking Thanksgiving.
Time
I have 2 children. This is not news. They are *almost* 11 and 6 years of age – both boys. 5th grade and kindergarten. Now, if you don’t have children, … Continue reading Time
The Last Goodbye
Dear Jonesie: This will be my last letter to you as I’m pretty sure if I write to a dead guy for much longer, I may be hauled off to … Continue reading The Last Goodbye
Life As We Know It (Month 11)
Dear Jonesie:
Can you believe it? 11 freaking months we’ve had to learn to live without you. It’s quite hard to believe, yet not that hard to believe. We are walking oxymorons around here. Don’t worry about it.
Jack continues to struggle, I’m not going to lie. He resumes face to face school in 2 weeks and I’m hoping that helps return some normalcy to his life. His attitude sucks. The things that used to make him happy no longer do. I’ve taken away his x box for an undisclosed amount of time, and I have to say, I think it’s actually helping him become a happier person. He’s playing again, using his imagination and actually having to entertain himself. He has his brother ask about 5.2 times a day when he’s getting it back and my answer every time is “I’m not sure you will.” You can imagine how well that goes over. He lost another tooth, a molar this time, yet the canine he lost approximately 2 years ago still hasn’t shown its face. I’m certain some kind of dental intervention is going to be required but I don’t like thinking about that.
We went up to Virginia this weekend for a baseball tournament that ultimately got rained out. Not all was lost though, we had quite a good time at Top Golf (I kicked everybody’s ass, Colt whined because it wasn’t always his turn, Jack also didn’t love that it wasn’t always his turn or that he didn’t hit the ball perfectly every time and Mimi just genuinely enjoyed herself). All in all, it was one of our favorite canceled tournaments!
Colt is still as amusing as ever. He’s quite temperamental these days, choosing to wear his heart quite loudly on his sleeve. You know when he’s happy. And you definitely know when he’s not. He’s doing great in virtual kindergarten so far but I look forward to him heading into the classroom and having actual interaction with his teachers and making new friends. If that’s allowed during Covid. I’m not sure. There’s so many rules to follow. Today in class we read a book about “My Dad” and I was quite nervous when the teacher showed the title. I thought for sure Colt was going to mention that he no longer had a dad but he didn’t. He participated and didn’t bat an eyelash at any of it. Meanwhile, I may have been sniffling in my sleeve just a bit.
Losing you has taught us so many things. Well, I can’t speak for the boys, and they are probably too young at this point to know what it has taught them, but I can speak for me and not everything has been negative. My writings have become fewer and further between. Apparently my sadness is my muse and the more time that goes by, the less sad I feel, as is the nature of time passing and time healing all wounds and all that bullshit people tell you to make you feel better. I guess they tell you because it is true. If we had to live with unbearable pain for the rest of our lives, I’d venture to guess that we wouldn’t live a great deal longer. The biggest thing I’ve learned is to let go. I no longer sweat the things I cannot control. I worry so much less. I accept so much more. And it’s made me a much happier person. I’m quicker to laugh. I offer help more often. I say yes more often. So many insecurities have held me back in my life. You always tried to teach me to lighten up. And it only took your death for me to finally listen. Is it too late to say that you were right?
I’ve also learned to accept myself, to love myself, just as I am. Is there room for improvement? Always. But you know what, I’m not so bad. I’m mostly kind, damn funny, pretty easy going and kind of helpful. I’m still not the worlds best cleaner, I still get awkward in crowds or with people I don’t know, I’m still short on patience and yell too often, I will never let go of the excessive sarcasm and I will probably always eat more than I should because I freaking love food. And wine. I also love wine. But these are my traits. And in the words of T.O., I love me some me. Kidding. I mean, I do love me but I’m not quite as in love with myself as T.O. seemingly is with himself. The point is, I’m ok with who I am and where I am and I’m always ready to learn and grow. And losing you, well, right or wrong, it helped me learn how to love me some me.
Life is not bad. We will still have our struggles. But we are strong and we know how to get through them. We are surrounded by so many amazing people, some we’ve always had and some new and unexpected ones. Our hearts are open and as cliche as it is, the future is looking pretty bright. We wish you were here to see it but hopefully you have the bird’s eye view wherever you are.
I don’t know how much longer I will keep writing. The more time passes, the better I feel, the less I feel I have to say. Cheers to you my love. You are forever in our hearts. You are forever a part of me. I love you.
Love,
Poopsie
Worthless
Am I worthless? Is my life worthless? I lost my dad. There’s a pandemic. I hate school. I hate my schedule. I hate almost everything. I can’t find joy. These … Continue reading Worthless
Thirty-Not-So-Great
So my birthday is coming up. And it is generally one of my most favorite days/weeks/months of the whole year. This year, however, I’m not sure I’m feeling it. On the one hand (and I really hate to even say this), how could it possibly be worse than 37? I lost my husband. We entered a global pandemic. The shit has certainly hit the fan in every possible facet that the shit can hit said fan. But, it’s 2020, so I shudder when I say things can’t get much worse. Because, undoubtedly, they can. But let’s stay positive and hope not.
Today was one of those days where if it could go wrong, it did. I’ll start with virtual school. I’m not going to get into it much. However, I will say, do you know who is not meant to learn virtually? Kindergarteners. It is “virtually” impossible (see what I did there?! Man, I crack myself up!!). It is a struggle. Every. Fucking. Day. My 5 year old does not know how to use a computer, yet alone a mouse or a track pad. He’s not meant to know how to use these things given that he is 5 years old and computing is not necessarily something that is important in a 5 year olds life. But what do I know? Not much about helping with kindergarten, that’s for sure. I let out a very loud growl/yell today trying to figure out how to video and post and photograph said 5 year old painfully attempting to trace the letter “e” on said computer he doesn’t know how to use with said mouse he doesn’t know how to navigate. All the while the 10 year old is on google meeting number one of four for the day. I’m pretty sure his microphone was muted. If not, oh the fuck well.
After all the virtual hell, I decide it’s a good time to go let out some frustration on the treadmill. It’s generally the best medicine to get me back in the game so to speak. Unfortunately, I had ordered my groceries online beforehand so there was a lot of back and forth on everything the grocery store does not have in stock. I was trying to type while jog, which wasn’t really working out, so attempted to step off the treadmill to finish my message about my damn lunch meat but apparently did not step completely off the treadmill and almost fell to what I’m sure would have been my death, or at least the death of my mostly scar-free face. I caught myself on the fly and did quite a number on my shoulder and arm so as not to ruin my face before my 38th birthday. It’s not the best face in the world, but it’s mine and I’m pretty attached to it so I’d rather keep in the best shape that I possible can. My arm is feeling better tonight, thankfully. We’ll see if that holds true tomorrow.
I then go pick up my groceries, or lack thereof. They’re all packed in paper bags. And of course, all the glass items are packed in the same bag because that makes complete sense. I’m one of those people that tries to carry as many bags in as humanly possible at one time a. because I’m lazy and 2. because I think I have Herculean strength (for the record, I do not). And of course, the fucking paper bag rips and all glass items scatter on the hardwood floor including 2 bottles of wine. Good times.
Next up on the list of shit that is this day, I’m making a new recipe for dinner. I’m chopping onions like it’s my dang j-o-b except for not really because I kind of miss the onion and kind of slice my thumb instead. Luckily, I just nicked it but 1/2 a centimeter in the other direction, this could be a very different story.
The grand finale of this day (I’m hoping anyway), my dogs are playing in the backyard. One is old. One is not. The old one has a growth/tumor thing on her eye because she’s old and really sexy things happen when you start getting old – dog or human, the same is true for both. I’m chatting with 2 of my girlfriends, look over at the old girl and her eye is bleeding like a stuck pig. I hold a wet paper towel on her eye for a while and she seems fine. The bleeding stopped. The growth has actually shrunk a bit but I’m sure it will fill back up and be it’s ever beautiful self again in no time.
I realize that none of these are real problems. I’ve had real problems so I know the difference. But dear lord, can I get a fucking break. I want easy. I want relaxed. I want love. I want acceptance. I want the clouds to fucking part and the sun to shine on our lives more often than not.
I want thirty-no-so-great to become the thirty-great that I’ve desperately been hoping for over the last year.
The Art of Moving On (Month 8)
Dear Jonesie:
If I’m being completely honest here, I almost totally forgot that today was the 12th of the month. In my defense, I fear my brain may be partially melted from overexposure to heat and sun this past weekend. Jack had 2 double headers in 2 days in the brutal, unrelenting heat of southeastern Virginia. Seriously, at one point I put ice cubes in my bra and felt very minimal relief. Also tried some down my back. Not much better. Also forgot to bring the stupid canopy to guard us a bit from the hotter than a billy goat with a blow torch sun so today we just kept moving further and further away from the field to seek shelter and shade in the trees. Hell, towards the end of the game, I wasn’t even watching, which you know is very unlike me. Colt was sort of a trooper. Yesterday he fell asleep for a while, woke up and cried for a while. My mama thought he might was coming down with the Covid, but, thankfully, once I took him to the car and let him sit in the A/C for a while, and eat some Star Wars fruit snacks (what can’t they cure?!), he was back to his nonstop chattering self (seriously, he’s so much like you, it’s ridiculous. It was easier with you because I could just tell you to shut up or walk away or even leave. Can’t so much do any of those things with a 5 year old). Today he handled it much better.
Our oldest boy played great yesterday. He pitched well, he did well at short stop and hit some bombs. Today, not so much. That’s the nature of our boy, though. I’ll defend him a bit and say he was nervous today, playing with a team he only knew a handful of kids on and a coach he had never met until today. Yesterday was also a long day that ended late and today started early. And, again, the heat. So, Tiger Mom here will give him a bit of a pass.
Anyway, back to my fried egg status brain, I was sitting at dinner, it was the boys, my parents and me and we’re just chatting and I randomly half shouted “SHIT, it’s the 12th of the month!!” To which Jack replied so what. To which I then reminded him (well, after counting on 2 hands) it was the 8 month anniversary of your death. To which he replied “so what? It’s not like it’s been a year.” So, yeah, he’s still 10. Ha!
The truth is, we’ve been super busy. Baseball is in full swing so that consumes a lot of our time. And in between, we are going to the beach, pool, sound. We are sharing meals with friends. We are over using the grill and trying to avoid the stove. We are covered in mosquito bites from staying outdoors way too late. We are dancing by fire pits, we are staying at the beach until dusk, we are laughing and singing and finding joy in as many ways as possible. We are making new friends while still enjoying the old. Colt is fishing as much as he can. Jack is still all about the sports while adding a couple of new favorites – surfing and skimming (he could use some help with both but I’m not quite the person for that job). And I am loving watching them grow and change. Their wings our spreading and it won’t be long before they are ready to take flight (shit’s getting real deep now, you got any waders where you are?!). As corny as it is though, it’s also 100% fact.
As for me, I am in a good place. Sometimes I drink too much. Sometimes I smoke too many cigarettes (sorry but you know how I love a smoke sometimes). I stay up too late and wake too early, never quite getting enough sleep. But I am well. My family is amazing. My friends are incredible. I’m looking forward to the future while also completely embracing where I’m at today. (There I go getting all corny again. WTF is wrong with me?!)
I’m not sure if you want to hear this or not, but, for the most part, we are happy. We were in a dark place for a while, I’m not going to lie. But we can’t stay in that dark place. I think you’d actually be really proud of how we’ve dug our way out. It did get ugly for a while, I’m not going to sugar coat it. And I’m willing to bet my left arm there will be more ugly in the future. That’s ok. We can handle it. Right now, though, we are going to soak up all the happy, sun, friendships and love that we can. Because that is what makes our world go round.
We have found a sense of peace. Maybe it’s acceptance. Maybe we’re just too busy to think about how sad we are supposed to be. Maybe it’s a combination of a million different things. Whatever it is, we are happy and enjoying all of life as much as we can. In the words of Creepy Jonathon, it is well with our soul.
Certainly we miss you. Certainly we think and speak of you often. But those assholes were fucking right. Eventually, time heals all (most) wounds. Not to say we’re not still wounded, because we always will be, but the more time goes by, the better we get at going by with it. Because that’s how it has to be.
Love you always,
Poopsie
JonesBoysMama 