Tag: friendship

Stupid Is As Stupid Does

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Yes, I stole that from Forrest Gump but, unfortunately, it wholly applies to me and my latest awkward (to say the least) interaction with humans in a professional setting.

Let’s take it back a couple of weeks. I get a text from a friend of mine who is a principal at a local elementary school. She informs me that someone in her office is leaving, she will have a vacancy and asks if I would possibly be interested. Now, we all know my struggles with going back to work. I think I want to, I step up to the plate, I take a couple of swings, but ultimately I strike out looking (hello baseball metaphors). But when she reached out, I felt like it was a sign from up above – God, Jesus, Ash, Bogey, Grandma or some totally random deady looking out for a gal. This was the same job I turned down at another elementary school in our area, that I have completely questioned why I turned it down almost daily. Also, (I shudder to use this term because it is thrown out so willy nilly these days but for lack of a better one) Colt has been the victim of some bullying behavior in his current school, and, as any child in his situation would, has some low key anxiety on the regular about attending said school. So, in my little mama brain (and I do emphasize the world little here – you’ll see why shortly), I think I’ll get this job, it will get me out of this touch of depression I’ve got going on and Colt can start fresh, with me in tow, at a new school and all will be well with the world.

Now, the last time I was offered this job, albeit at a different school, I went in for an “interview” but I use that term very loosely. I basically just had a little chat with my kids’ former principal, she called some references and she offered me the job. There was no formal panel of humans all staring at me, there was no double sided sheet of paper with intimidating questions and there certainly wasn’t anybody writing down my answers to said intimidating questions.

If you haven’t already guessed, my friend asked me to come in for an interview. I said yes assuming it would be much like the previous interview. So I walked in with my head held high, checked in with the receptionist and waited for my friend. And my friend did come. But she did not come alone. No! No! No! She had a posse. And by posse I mean it was her and 2 other women. But it was enough to make me shit my proverbial britches. Which I realize is stupid. I’m an intelligent woman. I have a lot to offer. But I forgot all of that yesterday.

I’m going to make this short and sweet, I think. My friend introduces me to her posse. She calls one of the women a rockstar to which I reply “remind me to get her autograph before I leave.” Everybody giggles a little and the interview begins. As previously stated, all the interview gang have very official looking folders with very official looking papers with very official looking questions. The posse are all holding their very official looking pens and they take turns asking these very official questions. And I get it. I know that I am supposed to talk about how great I am, what an asset I am, how my biggest weakness is that I’m a workaholic. I know all the things. I went to college. I’ve had jobs. I’m very capable.

Unfortunately, my nerves broke my filter. Absolutely did not work. Now, had I been auditioning for Saturday Night Live, perhaps we could have called this a success. Alas, I was not. I was interviewing for the school data manager position. I know, it sounds like a very sexy job. And honestly, I would probably be quite good at it. But my interview was NOT a reflection of the skills one would need to successfully manage data like a boss.

For example, I was asked to define confidentiality, and I started off fairly strong, having a background as a paralegal, I’m pretty familiar with confidentiality. I should have expanded on that. Instead, I said the first rule about fight club is don’t talk about fight club. I shit you not. Those words came out of my mouth. I was also asked 3 words a colleague would use to describe me. What I should have said was smart, efficient and hardworking. Instead, I came back with FUNNY. Because who isn’t looking for a funny data manager?! I then noticed some music in the background and inquired as to its origins. It was music class that was happening right across the hall or somewhere in the near vicinity. So obviously I said that for my next trick I would do an interpretive dance to the music but I was really going to need them to pep it up a bit. What in the fuck is wrong with me? The answer is simple. A lot.

I apologized to my friend afterward. I’m certain I totally embarrassed her. I’m a giant ass. So if you’re feeling bad about yourself today, just think of the idiot that is me. It will perk you right up.

The first rule about fight club is don’t talk about fight club. Jesus take the wheel…

More of the Same

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How’s everyone? Drowning in misery? Yeah, me too. I guess I have been for quite some time but this somehow feels worse. Probably being totally cut off from society (and other adults) being the culprit. Don’t get me wrong, I love the shit out of my kids, I just wish there was maybe one other adult around to love them with me. Post-widowhood pandemic is not doing great things for my mental state.

Things I’m not doing well in this new phase of life:

  1. Homeschool – I was not made to teach my child. I was especially not made to teach my child math. There has been arguing. There has been tears. We’re doing a little bit better each day, which I guess shows progress, but if we both make it out of this unscathed, well, color me surprised.
  2. Reading – I am reading 5 books at present. That’s not how you’re supposed to do it, but since when do I do things the way you’re supposed to do them. I started It’s Always the Husband while my husband was still alive. And while it held my interest for a while, whenever I did have a chance to read, I chose not to, choosing instead to hold onto my husband. I haven’t been able to pick it back up since he passed away. I stopped (mid-chapter mind you) on page 122. Next up When Children Grieve. This one is a real nail biter guaranteed to put you to sleep just by opening the cover. It should be something I make myself read, and I did for a while, and then I stopped. Next, my mom gave me James Patterson’s The Inn, telling me what a quick and easy read it was. I’m on page 59. There are far too many characters and different stories happening for my current state of ill-performing brain, so I put that one down. Another one that I pick up and put down at random is a story a bit like mine – a young widow with young children, only she lost her husband suddenly, and I knew for a while that I was losing mine. It’s called Confessions of a Mediocre Widow and it’s very relatable and very good, I just have to be in the right frame of mind to read it and currently, I guess, the right frame of mind isn’t hanging around my mind. Moving on. Last but not least, and the one I’m actually making progress on is Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine. That’s a lie. She’s not fine at all. Kind of like me, but her story is totally different. I picked it up because the cover literally said it was “Beautifully written and incredibly funny” and while I’m sure it is beautifully written, it has done nothing but invoke feelings of sadness and pity for poor Eleanor. It’s held my interest well enough though, as I’m more than 3/4 of the way through it. And while it has funny moments, I believe it to be a bit of a bold statement claiming it incredibly funny. Me thinks I was duped by that choice of words.
  3. Cleaning. Here I thought we had all this time and I could finally get some much needed cleaning done. Hard pass.
  4. Keeping my shit together. We’ve (my children and I) have been dealt a shitty hand. While we were still allowed to be part of civilization, I think we handled it all pretty well. Take civilization away, enter crazy, angry, weeping us. Apparently our people were holding us together. Take them away, you’re left with sadness from the movie Inside Out. Not really that bad, but we’re crying much more often than we used to, we’re throwing many more tantrums than are acceptable and feeling a deep void that we can no longer fill with all of our loves.
  5. Staying connected. It’s true that deep down, I’m an introvert. I like time to myself. I like the quiet. The more time I spend away from my friends, the easier it seems to not reach out. I fear by the end of this I will turn into some kind of recluse who’s book number has jumped even higher and friend count at an all time low. I won’t really let that happen, but I will deem it a concern.

But, enough of that Debbie Downer crap. On to the good bits! While trying to find a sheet of paper that Colt has not drawn planes, trains and automobiles all over, I came across another list from my Jonesie. Now, they are more of the same things he’s said over and over, but if you know Ash, you know that repeating himself in countless different ways was kind of his jam. It’s another list that he wrote for Jack and while much of it is repetitive, when can we not use a little advice on how to better live our lives, especially now?!

  1. Be open minded.
  2. Be kind.
  3. Be empathetic, compassionate and loving. Accept people. Tell people when you love them. Don’t let moments of greatness pass you by.
  4. Be strong. Don’t be easily influenced by others. Stay true to your values and beliefs. Don’t succumb to peer pressure.
  5. Choose your friends wisely. Stay away from drugs, alcohol, violence and hate. Always choose love.
  6. Set goals and work to achieve them. Start small and work your way up. Stay motivated.
  7. Maintain your hobbies – continue with your love for sports. Explore nature. Read every day (this wasn’t on there but don’t read 5 books at the same time, don’t be like Mama!)
  8. Practice, practice, practice. You wan’t to hone your skills? You have to work at it. Every. Single. Day. Hard work always pays off in the end.

Well, I was always one to argue some of Ash’s points and I will say that we worked our asses off trying to stop the spread of cancer and that one didn’t work. So while hard work may not always pay off, it is always worth trying. Stay strong my friends. We’ll get through this, one painstakingly slow day at a time. Stay connected. Reach out. And always keep an open mind.

Wild and Wonderful West Virginia

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Dear Jonesie:

It feels normal to write to you. I’m not sure why. It’s like P.S. I Love You, but in reverse because you’re the one that’s gone and I’m the one writing to you. Which, obviously, is backwards, but I’m pretty backwards so I’m certain you’re not surprised. Anyway, last letter I wrote to you caused quite a stir. I’m not sure if you can see what’s happening from where you are, or if you even care (I, for one, hope you are so blissfully happy that you could careless what’s happening on Earth, coz let me tell ya, it ain’t all that great). But I pissed some people off. Shocking, I know. I don’t know if this is the easy way out, but I think it’s more of a them problem than a me problem. Or if it’s a me problem, which it totally might be, it’s not something I have the time or the energy to worry about. I’ve got bigger fish to fry, ya know? But I’m sorry for upsetting people you cared about. That much is true. But I’m not sorry for being me.

Anyway, the boys and I took a lonnnnggggg car ride this weekend to Wild and Wonderful West Virginia. Gosh, that is one beautiful state. It started snowing in the mountains of Virginia and didn’t stop until we arrived at our destination. I don’t know why snow is so pretty, or why I think I hate it so much (that’s not true, I hate it because it’s cold and I hate to be cold) but it was breathtaking. Almost like traveling through space, the way it was coming down at times. The boys absolutely loved watching it, so thanks for that, if you had anything to do with it.

The weekend was filled with so much belly laughter that I might have given my core a bit of a workout (ha)! Jack hung with his first ever friend and it was like no time had passed at all. They just picked right up where they left off last time they saw each other. Colt bonded with everyone, I think, as Colt does, with his charming way and hysterically funny nature. Jack practiced baseball with his buddy and won the team practice golden glove award. He went to the mall and bought a pretzel because “we don’t have malls where we live.” The boys experienced hibachi for the first time and it was almost magical (so much more so than that fucking place we won’t mention again, the one with the mouse…). They were beyond amazed. I got a few good pictures but was not camera ready when the cook top was first set on fire. Colt’s face was priceless. That’s one memory that will stick out in my mind for as long as I still have my wit’s about me. (I took that DNA test – the one you claimed was such a rip off because they probably just have a handful of results they rotate through everyone – turns out I’m at advanced risk for late onset Alzheimer’s so it’s possible I won’t remember it forever.)

We ate, we shopped (side note – I suck at shopping – it used to be one of my favorite things and now, nothing. Amazon has ruined me. Damn you Amazon), we drank, we laughed (we laughed hard and often) and we cried. We cried because you weren’t there. We cried because life is so fucking hard, for everyone, with tiny little moments of joy thrown in the mix just so we don’t lose sight of why we’re here. We also cried because, man, children are slobs. It takes them seconds to completely wreck a room, yet when it’s time to clean up, they’re so tired, and they’re bellies hurt and they’re hungry and can’t do anything until they get something to eat. Pansies.

There were 2 five year olds in the house and I don’t know if I had too much champagne or wine or too little sleep, but I decided to let those 2 five year olds give me a makeover. I wasn’t quite going for the Avatar look, but Avatar is what I got. There were way more belly laughs involved in the makeover, though, so it was totally worth it. Colt got over it pretty quickly. His “palms were getting sweaty so he couldn’t do it anymore” and “mama doesn’t look like a mama anymore” so he had to go outside and do man things. Like jump on the trampoline. (Is that manly??? I don’t know!)

You’d be so proud of the boys and the trip there and back. We, of course, had our issues because we were trapped in the car together for 8+ hours each way. But they sure did handle it like champs. I feel awfully proud of myself, too, for making the journey. You know how I hate doing things alone. But I did it. It was fun. It was worth it. We didn’t die. And we didn’t kill each other. We did stop and eat at possibly the sketchiest, and grossest, Wendy’s I’ve ever had in my life, but otherwise got through the actual driving pretty unscathed.

We wish you had been with us. Our friend was so good to Jack. He took him to practice, took him to Dick’s, they did the batting cages, he’s the one that took Jack to the mall and took the boys to take infield. Everything our boy needed before the start of next season. He was happy and having fun, soaking it all up. But, again, we missed you. As we always miss you.

I had a dream about you last night. It wasn’t a good dream. But it was nice to see you. Maybe next time you come see me, don’t be such a prick!

Back to reality tomorrow. It was so nice to escape it for a few days, escape these walls that remind us of you, remind us of what we had and constantly remind us of what we lost. That which doesn’t kill us, makes us stronger though, so we are going to be some strong mother fuckers up in here! Until next time, Jonesie…we love you.

Love,

Poopsie, Donkey and Mr. Tolt

 

Gratitude

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There is so much the boys and I have to be grateful for. We have a roof over our head, food in our bellies, we laugh every day and we love every day. That love and laughter probably wouldn’t come as easily if it weren’t for our beyond amazing (I really wish I had another word for amazing…) family and friends. You all are such a light for us. You keep us strong and able to put one foot in front of the other each and every day.

I’ll start with my parents. What can I say? There is no way I could ever repay you for all you do for us, all you have done for us – even before cancer and travel and death, you were always here to offer a helping hand, guidance and maybe a bit of constructive criticism to see how truly idiotic we were being. You take all my babies at a moment’s notice whenever life is too much for me, or I need a break or I decide dancing with my girlfriends is the way to get through any given night. You help me with so many household tasks that seem overwhelming to me. You make me meals, support my children in everything they do, even with the heaping dose of attitude on the side we seem to be getting these days. You all are everything to me and I could not do ANY of this without. You listen to our biggest complaints and our strongest fears. You always have the best advice (even when we don’t take it). You love me unconditionally even when you don’t understand me. You love my boys unconditionally and always try to guide them in the right direction. Thank you isn’t enough, but, for now, it’s all I have.

My brother and his wife. When Ash first died, my brother was here all day every day just to be that strong force for my boys to lean on. His wife didn’t get mad. She just let him be here. My boys went through a phase for a few weeks where they needed to call/Facetime Uncle G every night or they couldn’t go to bed. He always answered. He never got frustrated (even when both boys were just silent and making weird faces at him). He’s here for them all the time. He’s Uncle G, Coach G, Fun G and sometimes Disciplinary G! He loves my babies like they are his own. His wife gives him the time to really be here for my boys and for that I cannot be more grateful. Let’s face it, my boys need all the strong male help they can get! That is not my area of expertise.

Ash’s brother (and children). We haven’t always been the hugest part of each other’s lives but tragedy tends to bring people closer. He’s been here for my boys (and me) also. Helping coach, taking them to do fun things and always being able to make us laugh. They (who the fuck  are these “they” people) say laughter is the best medicine and it’s true. And you do that for us (with you/at you – what does it matter?!). In all seriousness, we appreciate you so much. You all are another force in our lives that we couldn’t do without.

My friends. Thank you for always including us in your families. You take us in, you feed us, you share stories with us, you give us your time. Time is our worst enemy right now. It tinkers by so slowly and you all must know that because you invite us into your lives to fill your time and fill our time. You answer all my crazy and slightly (maybe more than slightly) annoying texts, you help us when our power goes out, you let us invite ourselves over on family Sundays where I sit on my special perch and my boys ransack all your toys, you include us in family game nights and bowling nights and pizza night. You let us spend the night so that I can drink more wine than is necessary and we can be surrounded by your loving arms. You check on us all the time and you are always willing to help. You love the boys like they are your own. You show them patience when they are struggling. You don’t judge me when I’m having a bad day or break down and cry or curse like a sailor. You, too, love us unconditionally and let me say, that feeling is reciprocated. We are so fortunate for you, my friends. Thank you for doing life with us, tolerating us and making our lives a little brighter every day.

I’m also going to throw some gratitude at my dogs. Y’all annoy the shit out of me but thanks for always keeping me warm at night and thinking the sun rises and sets out of my ass.

Grief (and cancer and death) sucks. It sucks a little less if you’re surround by the best family and friends in the world. And we are.

Also, it looks like the sun is starting to come it. It’s a good day to have a good day.