Saturday, October 31, 2015

What to say.....?

I don't know what to say, so I'll just blurt out what's on my mind....

On Sunday night, I started this rosy post about how lucky I am to have a wonderful Husband who provides for us so well, for having a smart Son who usually makes good decisions, for my Son being able to play a Jr. football halftime scrimmage years ago on Ford Field during a Lions pre-season game, I was going to write about how we've done things we consider normal that are part of people's bucket lists.  We've seen NHL, NFL and MLB games....the tickets were either free or low in price.  I took it for granted that everyone must have been to a pro game.  We aren't even sports fans.  We enjoy a game when we go, but don't seek them out.  What brought all this on was my Husband feeling too bad to go the Lion's game someone gave him tickets for.  I told the ladies at work (I had to put in a few hours on Sunday) that he was deciding not to go and planning to give the tickets away.  All of them said that was on their bucket list.  We've been to New Zealand, most of the 50 states and to a few provinces in Canada. There are some people I know who've never even been on an airplane, or seen a metropolis. It hit me then that we are blessed.  We have lived a lot of people's dreams.   I worry and fret about money, we struggle to make ends meet and have a tad of overlap.  We are like everyone else.

On Monday I sent my Husband a text telling him I love him, thanking him for being a great provider, keeping us safe and despite our mutual mediocre parenting that he is a great Father and that our Son was lucky to have him and so am I.  Monday I nagged my son in texts but failed to say I love you in any of them because his friends read them sometimes.  Today...I don't care. I will tell him I love him in texts because of Tuesday.

On Tuesday my "Pollyanna" outlook died. My Son sent me one of the worst texts I've ever gotten.  He told me to contact my friend "Lucy"  because her son "Will" committed suicide on Monday.  I thought it was a macabre game that Will was playing with his friends, it being so close to Halloween and all.  I went to my friend's facebook page.  It was horrible and ugly because it was true.

I sent her a text, she responded with thanks.

Will is my son's age, they spent time together as three of us Mom's yapped after school when we went to pick them up.  They rough housed with each other, Will, his little brother, my Son and another friend's son.  Will and my Son were in one class together.  That was enough for the poor teachers at their middle school.  The boys moved on to HS and we Mom's didn't hang out waiting for them anymore, they had after-school activities.  In other words we drifted and I am filled with "I meant to's".

Thursday we went to his viewing.  It was gut wrenching.  To look upon the face of a young man I had known, who was friends with my son was terrible. Will was all over the room.  Photos of Will as a baby, him in his various activities, him growing up, his family, his brother, his baby book, photo albums. his baby shoes and at the foot of the coffin, his empty hunting boots.  Lucy was holding up as well as she could.  I've never seen Lucy not be Lucy, but her spark was gone.  Will's brother is filled with hate.  He blames Lucy for it all.  I know he has to blame someone.  I know in time he will blame Will and be angry with him, but it's much too soon for that.  He's lost his courage.  Will was the "devil may care...push the limits" guy and his brother is a reserved methodical person.  Will was a helium balloon whereas his brother was his tether.  They were good for each other.

Friday, we went to the funeral.  We were there in time to get seats.  It filled up two chapels, standing room only.  I heard Lucy break and I saw Will's brother break.  Neither one went to the other.  Lucy has lost both son's for all intents and purposes.  Time will heal part of this, but not all of it.  Nothing will ever heal all of it.  The ceremony honored Will's life.  My Son sat with me and let me hold his hand a lot.

I seem to be crying at the drop of a hat.  I am so sad the family is so fractured.  I know they need each other to heal but they may never truly come together to support one another.  The parents are divorced and remarried.  The divorce was over 10 years ago and remarriages happened at least 10 years ago, so it wasn't a catalyst.  No one, aside from Will, truly knows why he felt this was the best or only option.

People often turn to God only in times of need or despair.  I pray when I think of a person.  I thank him when I look around at my life and the people I know.  We don't go to church but we do believe, we are saved, our Son is dedicated and is currently questioning and searching like most teens.  I keep hearing God heals all wounds.  I believe that he does, but only if the people are willing to accept that guidance and help.  When deep wounds heal the scar tissue is always tender for a very long time and can easily tear.  When people are trying to heal it seems they tend to tear at the scab or the new skin to rehash and open healing wounds.  I've seen it and I've lived it.  Very few people can seek and accept that healing guidance and move forward with a small scar, I failed that test.  There won't be any small scar with this wound, this is a gaping hole.

I am thankful for so much, my Husband, my life, our pets, but most of all my Son.  I just want to hold him and never let him go.

If anyone reading this has a teenager in their lives, make time for them.  Even when they are behaving like idiots, driving you to drink, causing you worry and fear, make time for them and think of how much you love about them.  Tell them.  If, by chance, a teenager is reading this.  Know that no matter how insignificant and unloved you feel, you aren't.  I don't care who you are, or what you've done.  Someone cares very deeply for you.  You've sent out ripples that will impact people you don't even know.  When people tease you, make fun of you, tear you down and try to ruin your reputation, remember, it's only a few years.  You just have to make it to college, you just have to hold on until then.

Get help.  I know teens won't rat on each other, I know that parents can't fight those battles like we did in elementary school.  It kills us to watch you hurting inside.  We, as parents and former teens, want to help.  If you can't turn to your parents, go to a teacher you like and just talk.  Let it out.  Don't hold on to the crap people say and do.  Know that they have more serious problems than you do.  They hurt people because they are mean, spiteful, rude kids who never learned a lesson on life.  Trust in fate and know that what they dish out will come back on them, it may take years, but they will get exactly what they've dished out somehow.

 If your parents or a person in charge (teacher, principal) is hurting you emotionally or physically, call a teen helpline, go to a shelter, turn to a friend's parents or a trusted Teacher or Preacher.  Help yourself with their guidance.  Live for yourself.  Live to spite them if that's what motivates you.  There are better ways to get revenge on a person (even a parent who's hurt you), revenge is moving on, not having them in your life by your choice then living the best life you can, the life that makes you happy, the life that allows you to reach your dreams.

High school is hard!  The idiot who said "these are the best years of your life" was a delusional maniac.  They are only good because you have no bills to pay and you don't have to support yourself financially.  These are some of the worst years you will ever have.  Years sound like forever to teenagers, take it hour by hour, day by day. All you have to do is take it one step at a time, one day at a time.  I have felt unloved, I've been the joke at school, I've been the weirdo.  I chose to act and dress the way I did because that way I controlled what they made fun of.  I never let them in far enough to find out what my real problems were.  Put up a mask if you have to, in order to protect yourself.  If you have one good friend who knows you, the real you, then you are truly blessed.  Very few people keep in touch after high school.  When high school is over your real life starts.  There is a light at the end of the dark tunnel and it won't always be a train.  Sometimes it's just the end of the tunnel where the world opens up. You just have to get through that tunnel.

If you made it to the end of this entry....kudos because it was long and very personal.

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Ditzy Friends are the Best!

Ditz-as defined by Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary is a silly person who often forgets things.

Ditz – as defined by the Urban Dictionary equates us with Valley Girls…I’m like so totally cool with that!  Like ya know??

Ditz- as defined by The Free Dictionary is a scatterbrained eccentric person

I agree for the most part with these definitions.  Airhead also comes to mind as does distracted from trying to train a husband and teenager to act as mature as the cat.  I come by my ditzy moments honestly.  I was often a ditz as a teenager out of necessity.  There were people I didn’t really want to hang out with, who would be joining our group on an excursion or to a party.  “I like totally forgot!!” about the party or excursion so many times when an annoying person was to be joining us.  I also acted scatterbrained to get out of certain chores or to avoid other unpleasantries.   Being a semi-ditz at times was detrimental because there were some fun things that I genuinely forgot about because my mind was all over the place. 

Having a ditz as a friend is an excellent friend indeed.  We can be your excuse for not wanting to go places too.  Blame it on the ditz!  Chances are we won’t care, won’t get wind of it or will totally forget it in a few minutes. 

Everyone should have at least one ditz as a friend, unless of course you are a ditz, then you want to cut that right the heck out!  One can’t have two ditzes in the same social group.  The meeting would possibly trigger a blackhole or some other unimaginable physical horror.  When ditz’s collide nothing good can come of it.    

Ditziness is also great for gift giving.  I can go Christmas shopping with my husband in July or August.  Pick out a few things, watch him buy them, then he hides them and I totally forget about them until Christmas morning!  We did that one year with purses.  I vaguely recalled from time to time looking at purses but couldn’t remember if I’d purchased one or not.  Turns out it was two of them.  I used to have a thing for shoes, now I have a thing for purses.  I tend to stick to the same few pairs of shoes because I need more sole stability now.  I do miss high heels but will survive. 

I’m not a ditz all the time.  Just when I’m tired of thinking, tired of being a grown up or just plain tired in general.  Not to brag, but I’m actually fairly intelligent.  I just choose to allocate that intelligence as needed then hide behind masks such as sarcasm, ditziness (It can be hard work to act vacuous or vapid) or churlishness.  I’ve been taken advantage of many times it’s easier when people think I’m far too dim witted to do something to be of use to them.  I don’t want people in my life who want to use me and abuse me.   I want people in my life who value me, who can put up with all my masks and allow me to drop the masks at times.  I like being able to be counted on by friends with whom I share a mutual respect.  I don’t act ditzy at work either.  I have done this in the past to avoid crappy shifts at a crappy job when I was a teenager. 

The song Because I’m a Blonde could, at times, be my anthem (aside from the fact that I’m not blonde). A certain level of ditziness can help mask pain too; both emotional and physical.  When I’m spending time with certain people I hide behind a wall of stupidity.  It’s easier to have them become angry because they think I’m an idiot, than it is to allow them to take out their usual hateful aggression on me simply because I’m around.  I can hear the clucking now.  I have indeed told these people I don’t like being treated the way they treat me.  I have stood up for myself a countless number of times, all to no avail.  I choose my battles and battling once again for mutual respect isn’t worth it to me.  I’d rather just cower for a few days in abject stupidity pondering when the next basket weaving class might form up.  There is no escaping spending some amount of time with these people, otherwise I’d be all over it!  The  people who mistake me for stupid often show how ignorant they truly are, thus leading to a lot of hilarity when their own idiocy trips them up in public.  Every so often I enjoy popping off with a level of knowledge they don’t think I possess.  The look on their faces is priceless. 

Having a ditz or a pseudo-ditz in your life is a must.  I have had ditzes in my life and I’ve been the ditz.  I am of course totally stupid, and an absolute ditz and quite possibly the worst parent on the planet at the moment, for I have a teenaged child.  I have been assured by other people who seem reasonably smart and fairly reliable that by the time he’s 25 or so, I will become less stupid and he will actually ask my advice.  I am hoping this is true and not a fairy tale told to give me a false sense of hope.  If it’s true then I am gonna be pretty darn ditzy for a really long time then! 

Monday, October 19, 2015

Let them eat cake

Or pie...pie is good too...oh but so are cookies and some ice-cream and other frozen desserts....

Well, it’s finally happened.  My son is 17.  I am 25 again.  We’ve survived another year of birthdays, anniversaries, and all those celebrations involving cake as we head into the holidays.  Everyone loves Christmas or Easter, a lot of people love Thanksgiving or the 4th of July.  Memorial day and labor day picnics are a must for most people.  We are not most people.  I am not most people.  I prefer a nice shady dark cool corner somewhere.  I must have been a spider or other cool, dark corner dweller.  Perhaps I was a resident of the desert with no rain and approximately 20 hours of sunlight with temps in the low 200’s.  At any rate, in our household cake season is on hold from June to Oct.  Thusly I have decided to relocate my birthday to a more acceptable month in order to spread out cakery. 

I am thinking August. 

In June we have Annibirfather’s day  (anniversary, Husband’s birthday (yes someone was crazy enough to marry me) and Father’s day)  One year I forgot what day it was and failed to wish my husband a happy birthday upon first sight.  He looked crushed and said “Well??”  I was all like “What?”  Then he told me it was his birthday.  I proudly announced No, your birthday is tomorrow.  He asked me the date of his birthday (yep I knew it) I told him and he said “that’s today” again in airhead mode I was all like “Omg it’s so totally not!”  I’ll check my phone.  That damn backstabbing piece of technology agreed with him about the date!  That jerky phone!  Warranty my butt.  I turned on the news, looked at a paper…I pulled out all the stops.  Everything  in the world had banded together with him in some wicked “fool the wife” prank leaving me totally confused.  I meekly wished him a happy birthday and scuttled off to make or procure a cake.  Since June is very cake heavy with Anniversary, followed one week later by birthday, then Father’s day about a week after that.  I get one cake for the target birthdate, unless we are jonesing for frosting, then I use the earlier date.  If other desserts have entered our lives I may go all wild and post pone it until Father’s day.  

Then boom…….dearth of cake.

July is a berryish month with cookies and halva or something else kind of light and or frozen
August is frozen confections, sherbet, ice cream, fruit bars, fresh fruit, cookies 
September is back to school drown your teenage tears in this lovely cake, but don’t cry on my side of the frosting.
October my son and I have birthdates one day apart.  His is literally the next day.  He likes one kind of frosting, I like another.
November is pieish
December is every dessert not nailed down
January, still mopping up desserts from December
February is Valentine’s day cake
March or April is Easter cake, the other is whatever cake I end up making
May is Mother’s day cake and Kitty’s birthday.  Pao doesn’t really eat cake, but he does like real whipped cream and likes cakes made of his favorite food with a pup-peroni  stuck in the top.

That eventually returns us to the fact that there is a stretch from July through August seriously devoid of cake.  I must sacrifice my birthday for the greater good of cake-kind..  There will be frosting roses in August and they will be mine, mine, all mine!!  Until I cut the first slice then share it around.  I’m not a total cake hog! 

Well, I’m another year older, I’d like to say wiser but I’m not sure.  According to recent research conducted by my son on a bad day I am “senseless and irresponsible” because I did something to upset young master tyrant.  I have also been told just how often I’m ruining his life…which seems to be whenever I utter the word “No”.  I have learned a few new things this year, such as temping is a lot of fun in the right environment.  I think I prefer temping to actual full time employment status.  Temping allows me to say no if I’m having a bad run of things.  I’m also learning new things at everyplace and refreshing my skills.  I have learned that cat bites don’t infect if properly bled and then licked by said biter.  In his defense he was chewing his own nails and mine got in the way.  He decided it was high time I learn to chew my nails like a proper cat.  I’ve totally digressed….

So my new birthday is in August.  I am not yet sure of the day but I may float the day based on what desserts we have on hand.  I must plan ahead!  Cake is serious business and not to be purchased or made frivolously!