I'm Still A Hit

Alright, I’m still a hit, of course, I’ve had to lower my usual standards, it used to be the under 12 crowd, then the 10 and under, and lately even the ten year olds have outgrown me, so now it’s down to 2 and under, and I’ve noticed even that crowd occasionally gives me a look that implies I may be teetering on lame.

Interesting week. Trading in temporarily at least the corporate games for the Lil Tikes. Corporate games cause me problems. I was brought up to tell it like it is, not to indirectly, passively imply that someone has done something that they may or may not have done, based on me having a bad moment. You know what, the Fisher Price games are much less stressful, more real, and much more fun. OK, so stomping someone that is a waste of 3-D space may be fun to some, most times, the one stomped doesn’t have the intelligence to figure out what they did to get stomped, they cry to someone, and next thing you know it’s off to Human Resources to explain the importance of being politically correct.

More accurately, I’ve become my niece’s own personal toy. She’s much nicer to me than the kid in the Hollywood rendition. I still have it…for years I was a hit with the twelve and under, then with video games today, I can no longer compete. So, I moved to the ten and under. I pulled that off until they all discovered girls and the mall, so I have to take what I can get. I’ve giggled, danced, sang, made silly faces, and have suddenly recalled Cookie Monster’s voice to ad lib on their first story books.

Alanis has her list of recommendations, here’s one of mine. If given the opportunity, let loose, live a second childhood while still at a phase in your life where you can enjoy and remember it. I think I’ve experienced more this week, been more alert, awake to life than in many years. I’ve taken off a few years in my age, mind, soul.

Given the choice between corporate games and Fisher Price…Fisher Price wins hands down. Now just hopefully it isn’t true that your face freezes if you squish it up for too long, that will definitely impact my newfound fountain of youth.

My question was answered and it doesn't look good

Today was such a sad awakening. Everyone has been in awe of my sister in law, living in a prestigious neighborhood, beautiful home, lavish lifestyle. This week I've been spending my days visiting, assisting in taking care of my niece. What more could I ask for, right? Honestly, I don't believe her life is any happier than mine, and I found myself less than envious of her life.

Her neighbor's house was TP'd. Nothing different than what I've seen this summer in neighborhoods close to my home. Her neighbor, a retired NFL player, who I've had the chance to meet, chat with when I'm taking my niece for walks. Great guy, he and his wife seem focused on their family. The funny thing though, that's the only known celebrity in the area, yet his family is the only one I've come across on my adventures. Sure there are numerous playgrounds built around their community, but from all appearance it seems a ghost town. The only signs of life would be a TP'd house and graffiti laced sidewalks.

It would seem that these families live in their massive, controlled air environment, never having to step out into the world around them. It would appear that they hide in their own little world, letting no one in or out. I don't get it. No cars on the streets, no kids in the parks, only a few dogs, which I was surprised would be allowed in that environment.

So, I guess this answers my dilemma from a few days past, when I wondered how the dogs and children seemed so happy, yet the adults seemed so self-absorbed. The kids and dogs are so excited for their brief escape, to breath real air, instead of canned. The adults, are so used to being locked away in their own virtual world, safely locked inside their man made prison, that they have no clue how to interact with those in the real society. They've only chatted on-line, communicating with co-workers via remote offices using email and teleconferencing to accomplish any sense of teamwork.

Is this how we prepare for the next stage of human development. Maybe all of those science fiction flicks weren't so outlandish, as it would seem they are becoming more of a reality. So sad the state of human nature today, how we are cutting ourselves off from civilization.

My heart has been stolen, never to be returned. That's OK by me, because it was instead enlarged to encompass yet more souls in. The object of my desire isn't even aware how easily the key was found. All it took was a coo, bwmmmmm, moo. As simple as that, a connection made.

Oh, I don't believe it was all one sided. We shared a moment, a day. I'm sure to anyone around it was mumbled chit chat, but to us it was a cherished union. It was the most magnificent day I've ever had, besides with my immediate family...for them there is no replacement, merely an addition to.

Yep, this week I've been given the privilege of playing nanny for my niece. Definitely the best gig I've had. I was overwhelmed when the call came in. To me it's an opportunity to be a part of her life that unfortunately just doesn't happen often enough.

She's a precious little angel that blessed us one year ago. Gone are the days of sleeping the day away, not really knowing or realizing much in her surroundings. Now, today, we played peek a boo, sang songs, read books, took a stroll.

Last time I saw her, the time began on a difficult note, tired child, unknown person, and her mother. Easy choice for her to make. Today, all of that changed. She cooed, she gabbed up a storm, I'm sure she was filling me in on all the details of her life, and what she's seen so far. To top off the day completely, I had a helper. Natalie is eight years old, and lost her father to illness this summer. So, I got an earful today, and for once, I had the right answers...still fresh in the memory. I pictured my youngest, who was seven when his dad passed. I'm sure they were both watching over putting me in the right place at just the right moment. I couldn't have asked for a better opportunity. The mere thought of being there for someone else who really needs a friend...there's nothing better than that in the world.

I had so much fun, I can't wait to go to work tomorrow. I did have to make a disclaimer already to my sister in law. She was so proud of her daughter's precious poses, princess looks...the minute her back was turned I saw the true angel in all her scrunched up glow. My new friend walked away with a smile, a thank you, and a feeling of being heard and cared for. If we could do like the shampoo commercials, telling two people, just think what a wonderful effect that would have.

All Grown Up

Children grow up no matter what, no matter how much we want to hold on, they grow wings and soar. Granted, I've had a few extra years on this creation, however, some of those years were tarnished through his drug use, and my tough love. He's recently returned from the edge, having faced consequences for choices he's made.

For many years, he remained distant...his friends knew much more than I could ever hope. Those same people caused so many problems in his life. It was so difficult as a mother to close the door, wish him the best, pray for him often, but not allow his misery to inflict pain and suffering as well as the destruction of the remaining family unit.

He was our weakest link, not him, the child I knew and raised, but the addict. Many times showing up for a meal or a shower. Countless times, calling, begging me to loan him money, my time, my energy; me only willing to offer a prayer that he find his way back to the light of life.

That day FINALLY has arrived for him. He's now been sober for six months, and not only because incarceration forced sobriety on him, but by his own choice. He just bought a car, is employed and set to return to a local college this fall.

It's been one of the toughest journeys I've had to hike, but without the tough love, he'd most likely still be in jail or worst, dead. By the grace of God, I have my son back, and it's been such a rewarding process watching him open his wings and soar, as hard as it is to see him all grown up, becoming a mature, productive member of society. The "real" him is finally reaching the surface, and what a beautiful spirit he was hiding deep within, in the darkness.

It's funny, as parents, we really don't know what the final product will become. Our children go through so many different transformations before our very eyes. No matter what we do, we can only do the best with what we have to work with, add all of our love, try to nurture and guide. Sometimes they take a beaten path, but the true spirit will finally emerge, given time, sometimes tough life lessons. We can't beat ourselves up for the paths they choose, we are merely here to guide, love them unconditionally, sometimes that requires tough love to break through, and support them when they do come through the other side.

Today, I sigh with relief, that although I realize he's all grown up, he'll always remain my little boy.

Why Do The Good Die Young?

While doing my usual scans of other's blogs, I came across one so touching that I added it to my MUST READ list. His entry was about a storm, the force of mother nature and how it puts life in perspective. What I failed to see, was the entry was from a dying man. He so graciously visited my site after receiving my comment. We've exchanged a couple of emails and comments now.

Today, I was surprised to see an email from what feels a old friend. I had mentioned in a message about our experience when the boys' father passed away. He responded asking some personal questions about our experience.

I'm unsure what length of time he has remaining on this earth, but do hope he sticks around for awhile. I was honest in my responses that although I understood their father's choice, that he had endured all the pain he could stand and his quality of life was going to diminish so greatly that he hardly considered it a life.

With most of my posts, the last thing I expected was an email from someone asking me my thoughts as a loved one left behind how difficult it was on me. I always thought I'd fill a void of Erma Bombeck, not Oprah.

I do hope my newfound friend chooses to hang around with us for awhile still, but I did assure him that the selfishness in the human nature doesn't make that journey easy for either side.

Based upon my experiences lately with many people, I'm left wondering where did our quality of life really go? I didn't see any quality in the people I passed, and most of them didn't seem worthy of being missed...so why is it someone that inspires others is taken so soon, while others, fester, recreate, and cause general misery to those around them for many, many, many years.

Drowning in the Fishtank of Denial

Just how long can someone swim before they need to surface for air? How long before "enthusiast" reaches fanatical? Not sure, but know I'm drowning in the fishtank of denial. What is that point when a hobby goes over the top, and no matter how many euphemisms one can create, no longer adequately describe the situation?

Let's just say, I know a few fish "enthusiasts". Don't get me wrong, fish are wonderful, relaxing, calming creatures. However, what do you do when said person has not one, not even five, but an entire room designated for fish tanks, as well as those display tanks that decorate the rest of the house. Most times, I humor myself, reminding myself often that at the fish auctions, they declare themselves enthusiasts. I've seen lately though the look of concern from people when they stop by to visit. I can see the wheels spinning, and I don't believe enthusiast is the word that is coming to their mind.

In an effort to help me remain in my sea of denial, I've seen changes in the social network, that I can EASILY find as fanatical. It's just downright strange.

The scariest part to me, is I've now begun witnessing my children recite the savings per trip for more supplies and equipment. Never would I have thought fish could be so needy. (Clearly you can see I don't share the enthusiasm.) Did you know, they require water changes constantly, and not only demanding clean water, but requiring you to test it to assure its up to their standards. They can't even clean up after themselves.

Here I thought they merely needed a tank, water, and a ugly plastic treasure chest that bubbled occasionally. The fish in Finding Nemo were definitely less demanding than any I've seen in recent times. Fish are more time and energy than any newborn baby; the only advantage is not having to get up in the middle of the night for feedings.

I better stop before I can no longer justify the word enthusiast and have no choice by to face the fact that maybe I'm dealing with a few fanatics.

A Break from the Usual Postings

Hmmm, I'm beginning to see a trend here at Blogger, not a bad thing just something that came to my attention. I've noticed since I began consistently posting new entries the changes in the AdSense choices. When I vent about my neighbor "Eddie Haskell" or lately Malibu Most wannabe, the ads pop up for psychotherapy; when I post about my own kids, A.D.H.D. ads appear. My post earlier today about my morning adventure raised a bit of concern to me. Life Insurance popped up, hmmm, what are they trying to tell me?

I hope no one took my blog entry so literally as to call the authorities on me. I can assure you all the children survived this morning's entertaining escapades. I fought the urge of those thoughtless daydreams of being single with no children. Honestly, I'm in it for the long haul, just occasionally have to question my own sanity, which in itself, I remember hearing is a sign that sanity still exists. If you've heard of a different theory than that, please don't share. I'd much rather drown in my sea of denial.

When Mom's Go Wild!

If you heard of a small 3.2 earthquake in San Jose, have no fear, it was merely me, snapping as my last nerve had been stomped on, ripped out and torn to shreds. I'm usually a very mild mannered individual, kind and caring. That all changed at about 11:04 AM. After two non-stop hours of "stop touching me!" STOP!!! Stop it. Follow that with stalking their prey; meaning older brother chasing after his younger brother to torment him further. It amazes me, Pavlov's dogs learned at a much quicker rate than I witnessed this morning.

I grew up with two older brothers, so I can sympathize, to a point. I don't recall chasing my brothers after they tormented me endlessly. I also was able to read them well, knowing exactly at what point I could push an issue before they exploded in rage. It benefited me, survival skills I believe is what most would consider them.

Ironically this morning I saw a post about sibling rivalry, and just four simple steps to stop it. Please! Apparently, if the expert was a parent, she must have only one child. I can buy that sibling rivalry is "normal", but to what extent before it is completely over the top.

It would be considered insane by some, but I finally had to point out to a child that one of the benchmarks for my success as a parent was helping them survive to adulthood, and that I was going to need his help in reaching that milestone. He had pushed every possible button in each and every brother, and honestly, I didn't realize how many buttons they actually had until this point. I saw rage like never before in three people, I thought I actually did see the steam coming from the ears of one, another looked like he was having a fit much like seen in Roger Rabbit.

Finally I have calm, for a moment. I'm relishing the silence, as I know it's not long lasting. One thing that does concern me with the timing of the fits of rage; the phone company is tearing out our driveway to solve one of their on-going phone line issues, and I saw children with a measuring tape trying to scope out the size of the hole. I'll be really concerned if they also start measuring their brother's proportions to see if it's a fit. More concerned should be the child that caused the complete meltdown of all around him, but he's having too much fun, I'm sure plotting out his next attack, and sizing up possible victims himself.

So, if any of you figure out how Pavlov's whole system worked, let me know...I'm running out of creative solutions to the sibling rivalry that seems to be raising our roof.

Too Close for Comfort

Nothing like a near death experience to remind one of their blessings in life. I definitely have someone kind enough to be watching over me lately. In the words of my dad, I guess it wasn't my time to go yet.

Last week while frantically looking for information to assist us in caring for my father-in-law, I stumbled onto a possible ghost writing opportunity. Later I landed my first partnership with a local pet store, where they will link my virtual art gallery to their website as well as display brochures and samples in their store. The scoop, I've been willing to hand over my first born child for either of these opportunities.

Then Sunday night, for some unknown reason, at least at the time, everyone was still awake in the house, way past the normal hour. Just as I was beginning to doze off, the sound of my son frantically screaming "fire" brought me back from the edge. Apparently out of all places, a fire had been ignited under the kitchen sink. After struggling with fuses, we found the one to cut power to the garbage disposal, and finally regain control of the situation. Three sleepy children swearing never to sleep again, EVER, adults ready to fall over with exhaustion, struggling to maintain calm and sanity.

I was somewhat surprised, and very grateful when I awoke the next morning, house still intact, and the ability to find someone to assist with the problem. Maybe to some my ordeal was minimal, I am just grateful that this happened when it did, and not much later, as we would have all been deep asleep, and the damage could have been life altering, devastating. I know we all sleep very sound, and honestly I'm not sure we could have escaped. The situation grew almost uncontrollable quite quickly.

By Monday morning, I was back on track with the Gratitude List and definitely on my knees. I do know something was watching over us. In my mind there is no other plausible explanation, and whomever that presence was, I'm indebted forever to them, and wouldn't be surprised if they are one of the Five People Waiting for me when I get to the other side.

Good vs. Evil

In my attempt to teach my children to treat others the way they’d like to be treated, I feel maybe I’m doing them a disservice. I’ve battled for a few years now with Eddie Haskell. This kid is a heartless, game player, that messes with the minds of other kids just for the fun of it.

I’ve had plenty of “chats” with this child, to no avail. Sure, he’s scared of me, now overly polite when he sees me, but still as conniving as ever. Seems he has a difficult time with odd numbers, meaning, loves to find 2 people to pit against each other for his pleasure. Since there are one of him, three on my side, and a few other stragglers that have a break from him through joint custody agreements, more often than not, his victims come from my house.

We’ve seen him get a guitar, because they became popular in our house. Skateboards, he’s had a few, as you guessed it, we have avid skateboarders here. Usually one of my sons brings home friends, he sniffs out his prey, and attacks, takes credit whenever he can and latches on to people much like the dreaded leach.

I’ve had the opportunity to watch all the neighbor kids on skateboards, having been designated the honorary cameraman on many of their park adventures. Well, let’s just say this kid is more like Bucky Dent than Bucky Lasek on a skateboard. With a few of the kids it’s their passion, and they have no fear to try new tricks. Suddenly he’s put in a competition with my son, who has absolutely no fear and practices for an average of five hours any given day this summer. His latest victim is the judge, and miraculously he pulls off victory twice over my son, and declared the “BEST” skater on the team.

Why can’t kids just get along? Is it necessary to complicate everything in life, beginning so soon? The saddest part of this is I’ve seen what floats to the top in the corpporate world, and don’t think this kid will ever figure it out. Why? This behavior of his will benefit him through his whole life.

So, I’m stuck. Do I abandon trying to teach my kids good values and trade it all in game playing 101? Personally I cannot stand those who play those games, have absolutely NO RESPECT for them. Maybe another little “chat” will do the trick, or just buy me a few days of serenity. The problem with this whole parenting thing is you just don’t know how you’ve done until it’s too late to correct any mistakes you may have made.

The Rest of the Story...

Closure is so important to all of us, whether realized or not, and as I know inquiring minds are dying to find out the scoop, here you go.

Catfight was easily won. Well, not so much a competition as to actually getting a glimpse into a 30ish old GIRL who is desperately trying to cling on to the best thing she ever let slip away. Sure, she tried her best, but I blocked all of her punches. I loved her comment about if you knew me, you’d understand. The funny thing was, I knew her WAY BETTER than she thought. So, my thorn was easily removed, and if she should try to send any more cards to MY house, phone calls, IM’s; closing them with “Luv Ya” I will realize it is merely a desperate attempt by a pathetic individual. Little cutsie hearts over your “i” may be appropriate for the Paris Hilton crowd or immature girls roaming the halls in high school, however, there comes a time when they lose their appeal and are merely pathetic. So, I have closure knowing that her concept of BFF with my significant other is merely a one-sided friendship that is no threat to me, and now instead of cringing, I’ll say a little prayer that she find her way in life.

Secondly, after a conversation with a doctor yesterday it was determined that Manipulation is NOT a disorder, but Lewy Body Disorder is. So, in essense we are dealing with a disorder in a dysfunctional personality, therefore, it’s a very blurry, confused situation. I had to accept that it’s not personal, that it truly is a brain degenerating, getting old and wearing out. It is a TRUE disease. As one headlined screamed out to me “Scrooge Probably Suffered from LBD” Woo Hoo!!!!!!!!!

Imagine having to sit down with a 10 year old to tell him that it’s going to be like having a little brother in a 74 year old body. After the initial glaze left his eyes, I think he understood.

Have no fear, I found another forum for THE ventfests that will be involved on THIS roller coaster ride. I’m determined to keep my sanity and most importantly my warped sense of humor. Worst case scenario, I checked and my standing reservation at the Padded Inn is still available.

Disorder or Dysfunction?

When is something a disorder? What’s makes it so? In my mind, a disorder, especially those that occur later in life are totally random. Hurt feelings hit everyone in that person’s life. Manipulation is selective pain innvoked on others. How do you find treatment for both, when there is so much gray area to cover. How do you truly discover what can be treated through medicine versus psychologically?

Recent episodes have included mind boggling symptoms, that are ever changing. Confusion with clarity to call the one with emotional baggage er, ties. Feel my pain, don’t you feel bad, fix me, BUT…only on MY TERMS. To me that’s not a disorder but rather a dysfunction.

Above that, add a medical diagnosis that maybe it’s Lewy Body so it’s unpredictable. Even medical professionals are now saying that if it truly is Lewy Body it’s the slowest progressing case they’ve ever witnessed.

With over fifteen years dealing with recovery, and many more dealing with manipulation, my input comes across as a cold hearted, uncaring, biased outsider, who just hasn’t a clue as to the significant changes this person has gone through over the last few years.

Well, true, I’m an outsider…true, I’m warped in my opinion, but the fact is, the person has been the same cold hearted, self centered individual I’ve encountered for the last five years.

How do you possibly tell someone you love that their parent is a lying, self centered, self serving piece of something cows would say ewww about? There is no politically correct way of spinning that one. Hell, Karl Rove couldn’t spin that one and make it look good.

This man made my life a living hell for three of those five years, bitter, hell yeah. Forgiving, I can do that, forget, no way. My belief is this man has had people fishing for him for so many years that he never had to learn to fish for himself. He’s burned bridges to safety without a care, and now he’s feeling the consequences for all of those bad choices he’s made in his life, and searching for someone to fish some more. His antics have increased in drama due to the fact that he’s cried wolf so many times, most of the sheep are gone, and only one lifeline remains.

As he’s looking for pity from the one remaining ally, he’s giving credit to all the wrong people. In the process he’s pushing away the one remaining teammate he has, foresaking them while thanking those who have not been there, have not cared, think he’s full of it.

If it truly is a disorder, I would go to the ends of the earth to help, but I’m having a tough time diserning what is real and what is fabricated. We’re back again hearing the doctor’s mention Lewy Body, and back to feeling the guilt and pain, hoping that we do all that we can to help a man not seeming worthy of our love and assistance.

Thorn In My Side

It’s been quite an interesting few days in my life. My father-in-law was having every form of symptom known to man, that was healed, completely cured when I told him I was on my way to pick him up. With the symptoms I was hearing about, it surely wasn’t safe for him to be alone in his house.

Top that, with a job offer to be a nanny for my neice through the rest of this year, yanked out from under my feet. They found someone for less money, so they had to do what was best for them. Granted in most cases money is a motivating factor, but I’ve yawned through many a boast of $3,500 earrings, $10,000 living room sets, blah, blah, blah. Now she’s worried about saving money on her daughter’s care.

Follow that up with an ex-girlfriend that has been a thorn in my side for five years. She won’t climb back under her rock. While on the desktop in our room, I got an IM message from her…OK, so I know she wasn’t addressing me, but she still uses cute little nicknames and writes Luv ya. To say the least, this does NOT go over very well with me.

I’m drafting an email to get to the bottom of this one. The only time I’ve kept in touch with someone who I broke up with was when the court ordered it for the children’s sake, so needless to say, I don’t understand her mentality. She’s been asked nicely to stop, and instead just seems to find new approaches. Whatever the case, the motives don’t seem good to me.

Do I face it, as I now have an email address? Do I just accept that she is not going away? Somehow, someway, this thorn needs to be pulled out before it festers. Any advice, love to hear it. I'm quickly running out of ideas and patience here.

Saying Goodbye and Thanks for the Life Lessons

Yet another year has passed. Today, he would have been 56 had he not just thrown in the towel on life. As difficult as it was dealing with him throwing obstacles onto my path of life, it still can seem odd without him here.

It's becoming easier, healing a bit closer with each passing day. Some days I can still get so angry that he checked out, leaving me to raise three boys. On days when I hear how great dad did something that doesn't come as naturally to me, it can still cut like a knife, but those times are less frequent.

I have to stop and realize that some of the obstacles I've faced, actually led to my growth as an individual. You don't realize how strong you are, until the safety net is not in place. So on what would have been a special day to you...

I’d like to thank you for all that you’ve helped me learn in this life and all you’ve given me. It has not always been easy, but we managed to accept things and move on with our lives and show the children a united front despite any personal differences there were.

I’m happy for you, relieved that your pain is over, and know that you are with your mom and at peace. I am very grateful that acceptance and peace was made between us all, leaving no unresolved issues. I am grateful that the boys will have wonderful memories of you, camping, fishing, and baseball. I am grateful that they will see all the people whose lives you touched.

This is not an easy time, but we will go on, with you watching over the boys as they pass milestones in their lives. We will do our best here to keep your memory alive through them, and assure that they grow up to be healthy, happy, productive members of society.

Thank you for the gift of three beautiful children, with so much love in their hearts. I will always be grateful for that.

God Bless You and Thank You. Goodbye, Rocky, we’ll miss you.

Let's Party!

Lowered expectations seem to be everywhere these days. The latest to fall is the new standards placed on alcoholism. Thanks to the likes of Lindsey, Paris, Britney and the rest of the white trash ho down, they’ve decided it is not feesible to expect alcoholics to abstain from alcohol forever. So, the new expectation is sobriety for ONE YEAR.

When I entered recovery, I remember hearing the statistics. I believe 1 in 10 made it through the first year, however, if you could abstain for five years, your probability of remaining sober jump to 85%.

Bill Wilson and Dr. Bob must be rolling around in their graves to think that the program they devised that has worked for scores of people is being torn down so that recovery rates can look better.

I’m shocked, but I guess I shouldn’t be totally surprised. Everyone needs to feel success at lesser costs. I should be happy, according to the new standards, I’m cured. Let’s Party!

Terrible Two's

What do you do when you see the terrible two’s without a toddler in sight? Lately I’ve seen more than my fair share of temper tantrums, unfortunately the throwers are way beyond the stage of life when they are acceptable, and definitely no longer cute.

Actually, temper tantrums, although sometimes humorous to passerbys, are never really cute, no matter what age. The growing trend I’ve seen is these hissy fits lasting from adulthood into the golden years. As a public service, let me tell you a temper tantrum at these points in your life are pathetic no matter what angle the lens is.

What do you do when you have an in-law throwing hissy fits into his 70’s? In-law! That means you inherited this one; no emotional ties, no paybacks, no guilt trips involved. You either ignore, and stay as far away from them as possible, or you take my route, call it as you see it. Mental note, my method is not the best choice, especially if you care about serenity, calm or stability.

I have found there is absolutely no winning, no draws…nadda. It is the quickest route to total chaos. You will NEVER EVER be seen as helpful. You will not win. You will ALWAYS be the outsider, the bad guy.

I’m stuck today with “why do you hate my father?” In my mind I can alphabetize or place in numerical order the countless answers to that question. That is left better unsaid, just remember those words of wisdom.

This man has burned every bridge he has ever had. Shredded every safety rope, down to a thread. The brain does NOT engage prior to the opening of his mouth. My favorite, is clueless when called on it. He has one advocate left, and unfortunately for me, it had to be the one man I married. Every conceivable solution is met with his lack of willingness. I’ve spent countless hours devising plots and plans to no avail.

Top that with life experiences that were traumatic. He survived the internment camps of WWII, buried a wife and a child. Who wouldn’t be depressed? It’s easy to victimize your situation with those struggles. I keep that in mind, and should I ever forget, I’m constantly reminded. I’m not cold. I’m very empathetic, and will eagerly go to the ends of the earth to help someone in need, with one slight catch…one must be willing to want my assistance.

He and I have many similarities, more than he could ever think possible. I’ve survived abuse, neglect, abandonment, addiction, divorce and death, some of those by the age of six. The major difference is I REFUSE to let anyone or anything keep me down. Life experience I use to learn from. I don’t accept being a victim. I’m constantly learning and growing. God knows, when something is painful, I can procrastinate like no one else, but eventually I get down to the dirty work needed to heal, to move on, and move forward. I NEVER GIVE UP on myself.

So, for the moment, I’m the cold heartless, judgemental outsider who will just NEVER understand the situation at hand, banished to my doghouse yet again.

Maybe it’s true that I don’t get it, but I think the true problem is that I understand it all too well.

Vindication!

The studies have proven what has always been known by the female population. We do NOT in fact speak more than our male conterparts. Despite the myth I'm sure begun by men. I wonder how much someone was paid to perform that study. Whatever the price I could have given them that information for half the cost, if only someone had asked.

Why would I be privy to that information while all the world remained in the dark. Simple. One day on our street is time enough to have shown them that the conception that we talk more then men a falsehood.

On any given day in our neighborhood you will find most of the men in conversation. How do you think we find out who is doing what. The men. Not only do the men on my street talk more, they also are more well known to gossip. Why do the women not partake as often you ask? Again, simply put, we have more things to do with our time.

While we're busy taking children from place to place, the guys are gabbing up a storm. We're getting dinner together, doing laundry, getting kids in the bath, and refereeing the latest arguments. Once we're ready to relax for the evening, we hear better coverage than if life were lived on the nightly news.

We know how much Joe Blow really paid his new car. What everyone on the block does for a living, how much they paid for landscaping, what they earn. Who has the best jobs. Play by play action of what's happening in the latest drama. For some time it was my oldest son's activities that was the source of conversation. Now, he's in recovery, his name pops up from time to time, in a more positive light. The gossip has changed over to the latest divorce drama, and the effects on the child in the middle.

It must be a way for them to build themselves up. I know myself that after hearing all that's happening in all of my neighbor's houses, I feel much better about my life.

So ladies, next time a man tries to throw that myth that all women do is gossip, you can let them know what I heard from the guys on the block. That should put an end to that falsehood, and vidicate us for the centuries of misconceptions about who in the house talks, and yes, gossips the most.

Parents Revenge

Hear ye, hear ye, all of you parents struggling with the terrible two’s or twenty’s. I have gathered some valuable information to help you through your trials and tribulations.

It’s amazing how a weekend with an elderly woman can create such enlightenment. There is much to be learned from our elders. Personally, I have experienced a profound attitude adjustment towards my children and all of the chaos they create. I was able to see the similarities between the two age groups, and can tell you that the second childhood is very real.

A weekend of errands with grandma can teach you so much. It begins as such a simple request, usually brought up after mentioning that she needs your signature on a legal document. It’s a blur of fine print with the word Beneficiary at the top. That is her trap. Once you sign on that dotted line, you belong to her.

You say to yourself, it can’t be that difficult taking her to the store? So you tell her “No problem.” You place her gently in the front seat; fold the wheelchair and walker, loading them in the trunk. Drive two blocks in 104°temperatures to the drug store. You unload the trunk; unload grandma, who is apprehensive due to a recent fall. She is grabbing your arm so tightly you can feel your pulse. You then explain, much like you would to a two year old, that under no circumstance is she to leave this spot until you return. Now to park the car; the parking lot is packed, after what seems an eternity, a space finally opens up. You hike back half a mile to accompany her through the store. You relish in the cool air-conditioned environment. Not so bad you think.

Before fully catching your breath, she brandishes her list, which resembles your son’s list to Santa, scribbled in random order as things came to her aging mind. After grabbing the toothbrush and moving onto aspirin, she reaches denture cream on the list. After backtracking several times through the store, you yank the paper from her hands, and refuse to leave the aisle until the list is completely scanned repeatedly to assure no other items are needed.

Your adventure does not stop here. After four hours are spent in the drug store, it is time to reload the car and drive back to her apartment. You unload her wheelchair and walker, which by now feel like a Sherman Tank. You carry her from the car. You then return to carry a trunk full of purchases up to the door.

At this point she discovers the lack of space in her house. This requires strategic mapping to assure the safe storage of the store’s inventory to avoid a late night phone call telling you there’s been an terrible accident caused by a poorly stored heating pad falling from a shelf.

Next stop, the grocery store. Another list is presented, but after your experience you convince her to stay behind and rest, as she exclaims, “I’m exhausted”. Sweat is dripping from your face, and she’s tired? She follows up with guilt that only a mother knows; “I wouldn’t need to get so many things if you came to visit more often.”

When planning for our Golden Years, most of us think of our financial and medical needs. We make sure that our 401K plans are earning the best possible return and all necessary policies are in place. Although very prudent, these are merely pieces of a well-designed retirement, but not a complete plan. Think outside the box. Financial planning is a tool to assure that revenge against our children has a much higher return.

I studied the manipulation that took place last weekend, and am making mental notes for my revenge while the experience is still fresh in my mind. The best part is that medical breakthroughs are extending our quality of life, allowing us much more free time to aggravate those sweet, innocent children of today for many more years to come.

If they choose to fight and argue amongst themselves for a video game controller, I can now sit calmly with a smirk on my face. I’ll be contemplating my countless, passively irritating visits to the stores, which will require their assistance. Age causes the mind to fade; thoughts are not as clear as in years past, which can and will lead to my lapse of memory of the store layouts. My random lists of items to retrieve if planned well in advanced will lead them on more challenging scavenger hunts than they ever experienced in childhood and will cause more aggravation than I ever endured with their endless whining, complaining and arguing. Just the thought of it makes the worst tantrum or meltdown a bit more tolerable. So if you happen to see a screaming child in the store, and his mom is composed, with a slight grin on her face, rest assured she is merely planning for her future.

Mother of All Monarchs

Most children have fond memories of pets they've owned and cared for. In our house, we've experienced this to an extreme by most any rational person's understanding. How many households in America can say they've been the proud parent of a fly trainer.

The strangest experience has to be Mouzer. Our feline friend has come to realize she does have a staff, her humble servants. This, the same cat that used to be happy with a huge bowl of food and water filled a week at a time, now refuses to touch any food that has been out for more than one hour. Why should she? She has three boys that are at her beckon call.

It has to throw prospective visitors when they enter, hearing three otherwise normal boys meowing to a cat, as she orders them around.

The usual day for our Mother of all Monarchs begins by leading one of her many servants to either the front door to decide if the weather is acceptable for basking in the sun, or maybe to the kitchen for breakfast followed by lounging on a patio chaise.

I thought it just my kids that had lost their mind, but even the most adamant self-proclaimed cat haters have been caught speaking Mouzer's native tongue. I believe our royal subject would be startled should she venture out far enough where people spoke in the gibberish language we know as English.

It's odd, what starts out as a pet, takes over our hearts and house, ruling with a furry paw. Our Queen has just awoke from her deep slumber, and is searching the house for a humble servant to bow to her royal commands.

Gone But Never Forgotten

It's always a shock to the system to run into a ghost from our past. Recently I ran into an elderly gentleman at the gym who looked so much like my long lost grandfather. Grandpa was the most loved individual taken from me when I was a young child. Although he passed many years ago, I still see signs of him usually on the anniversary of his passing, and usually when I pause from the chaos of a normal day to remember him. He has shown me pictures in the clouds, a happy thought, or just a calm happy feeling. Never have I seen anyone who resembled his physical form in all of these years. Just seeing the man at the gym filled me with a happiness from my youth. It made me drift down memory lane.

Grandma and Grandpa lived halfway between school and home. Every Friday afternoon I stopped by to visit. He seemed to wait for my arrival. We would venture across the street to the neighborhood candy store, where we chose something from all of the many types of sweets available. As a child, it felt like a trip to visit Willie Wonka. I still cherish those simple memories of time spent with Grandpa.

Seeing him at the gym the other day, my eyes lit up much like they did on those careless Friday afternoons. To me, it was yet another sign that although no longer here, he always remains close to my heart.

Each and everytime a departed loved one has made their presence known to me, it has brought a sense of relief or answers. It's also brought a sense of calm to my hectic world.