Talk Thursday: Endings...and Beginnings

Yep, I set the topic again, so I feel obligated to write. I have written on other's topics (maybe twice, to my shame) so I don't feel like I'm totally favoring myself. :)

Usually, endings are sad. The last few years I've had some that are happy, and some that are sad.

Happy Endings:

Leaving Utah

Child Support

Sad Endings:

My grandmother's passing

My doggie's passing

Beginnings are always more optimistic - there's so much room for opportunity to hope and dream about how things will turn out. The beginning we've experienced over the past few years are well documented on this blog.

When you get into your 40's, it's a little harder to find beginnings, frankly, at least for me. My kid's lives are really still beginning and that's fascinating, but it's their lives, not mine. I might start another new job in the next few years - but more and more, as friend Shawn says, the time I (and he) spent at the Mothership working for Jenny looks like an aberration in one's career, not a constant. Everything else has been a job. I've been with TH for almost 16 years and all signs point to it's going to last (thankfully!). I'm not moving ever again, I've decided, so that's out. Let's face it, I am truly the picture of your middle aged Mom.

But....

One thing that has happened is, in a way, a beginning for me. Big Bit has chosen a college. He is going to go to the College of Idaho, the fine institution I wrote about previously and which I attended for all of one semester. Because of the cost (private school = $$$) and because like me as a college freshman he doesn't feel like he would live well in a dorm, he's going to live with us. It's about a 25 mile drive one way, but trust me, the gas in his car (Honda Civic) in no way compares with the cost of living on campus, and he needs to stretch his dollars to last as long as possible.


Since he started school, we've had Big Bit with us a lot - during year round school, probably 4 months total or more of the year, summers during middle schools, weekends frequently etc. (Of course, prior to that I had him full or half time at least). He spent his freshman year in Utah with us, which was wonderful, but it ended badly (not because of anything he or I did, but a third force if you know who I mean) and he went back. He was worried for me and him if he stayed with me.

Now, he's an adult, or as Little Bit put it "He can do whatever he wants, can't he Mom?"

So, in an odd way, Big Bit's graduation, which is an ending, is a beginning for both him, and me. I don't look at him coming to school here as "I win" or anything like it. He picked a school he wants to go to, and we happen to live near it. It saves him money to live here, so he will have less student loan debt at the end.

But still, it's going to be fun to see college through his perspective. I hope he handles it all far, far better than I did. I think, in spite of his shyness that I fully share (and more) that he will be able to enjoy school and not do something stupid like get married (too soon).

Now to go see about selling a kidney to pay for school, as well as the new roof that we weren't supposed to need for 3 more years (augh). That is all.

PAID IN FULL

As of yesterday....I have experienced an epic event. I PAID MY LAST CHILD SUPPORT CHECK. EVER. EVER. EVER.

Well, let me restate that. I have paid the last dime I have to pay that benefits someone other than my child more than my child himself. Let me clarify a bit. Actually, since January I have been paying Big Bit directly, as I had stated my preference to do so starting with his birthday and EHFH actually said (via Big Bit, of course) that it was fine to start early. So, this year hasn't been too bad.

However, it was a really weird feeling to mail that check yesterday. I am not glad Big Bit is grown up, mind you. (at least not all the time, most of the time I'd like him to be 7 again, and his brother a newborn - they were so stinking cute and one didn't talk back and the other couldn't!) Whether a child lives with you full time or not, that sensation of leaving the nest is one that I think is universal. It's an odd feeling to know he's in charge of his decisions and consequences and as of mid-June, whether he goes to school any further or not.

Also, I do not dispute the obligation of a "non-custodial" (term makes me laugh, 'cause kids, there's been a whole lot of "custodial" duties I've continued to perform through the years, from dental visits, to braces, to immunizations, to haircuts - all fun for me, actually) parent to pay money to the other in order to benefit the child. My beef was more around the fact I far rather would have put it into a college fund, which would be approximately twice the size of the check that Big Bit's other parent has given to him for college. And yes, he could afford to do without the money. As did I - when Big Bit lived with us in Utah, every cent I received went straight to his college fund. He was amazed at how much I'd actually accumulated from that time alone.

It's a really liberating feeling to know that from now on, ANYTHING I do for Big Bit financially is because I want to, because we've discussed it, and because it makes perfect sense (hopefully, anyway). I think I feel a little at loose ends. Odd.

Money, and Big Bit, have been the things that have tied me to EHFH for 16 years longer than I wished to be. I know I wasn't going to write about him anymore, but this is really about me. And how all shackles are off now. All I HAVE to do is enjoy and continue to have a relationship with my beloved firstborn. I feel like I'm 27 again. Anything's possible.

I leave you with this thought. He Thinks He'll Keep Her, indeed.

A Wonderful Life

I know I've not been a fountain of optimism on this blog lately. Well, you're going to have to put up with one more dose of negativity, and Lord knows I hope it's the last for a while.

TH got up this morning to make lattes, as he always does, and much to our dismay found our beloved dog, Margarita, had died during the night. She was 11, would have been 12 in April, and yes, for a Labrador, that's on the upper end of the scale. She had arthritis in her hips pretty badly, but other than that and a general slowing of her activity level, she was in fairly good health. She'd just come through her last checkup in January with good results beyond her known mostly old-age related issues.

She was the biggest pain in the ass as a puppy you could think of. The first thing she did when my Mom brought her in our house at 2 months was poop and pee on the kitchen floor. I was about 3-4 months pregnant. You can imagine my joy in having to take care of a puppy when I was exhausted. But of course she was so stinking cute and we grew to love her in spite of (sometimes because of) her sometimes Marley-esque activities.

As she matured, she became a sweet and lovely dog. She loved people, her family, especially her boys (Big Bit in particular), she listened, she didn't dig or chew and she was very intelligent. Last summer she actually caught a squirrel (quite by accident I think) and you would have thought she was a pup again, she was so proud of herself. She was loyal, bossy (she would snatch her sister's stuffed animals when she walked in the door).

Her mother, who some friends owned, died at the same age she was now, I think, and had far more health problems for far longer than our pooch. She didn't have a prolonged illness and I hope didn't suffer at all, or if so only very briefly. So I know she was lucky in that respect. But, damn it, we're going to miss her.

And yesterday was National Margarita Day. I kid you not.

Love you, Pookums.

Talk Thursday - Long Time Gone

"You're a long time gone...keepin' your secrets for too long. Baby, you ain't half of what you used to be....in this dim October sky, I've got no tears left to cry...And I'm finally learning you can't be too strong....I'm a long time gone" - Gin Blossoms, Long Time Gone.

Well, since it's my topic...I'd better write on it.

I went to church Sunday, as I do most Sundays (not all, sadly, in the winter I am a sloth who has trouble rising before 9 when the sun comes up unless it involves going somewhere warm or getting paid to show up to work). As one of the ladies I work with says, I don't go to church so much because I think I have to in order to keep my faith, but I'd hate to see what kind of person I'd be if I didn't go. She said that about her, not me. I think.

I had already sent out the topic, and had some idea of what I would write about. But then it was the Women's service at the church as happens once a year. Yeah, you'd think I'd know that. But I'm not terribly involved other than showing up, worshiping and giving money. Lutherans aren't the most friendly bunch in the world, and while I really like our Pastor, who's in his early 30s and, for a Pastor, fairly liberal in his ideas, I don't fit in with his "group" who are about his age, and I don't fit in with the older people, (i.e. anyone 10 years older than me) because they just seem very comfortable with each other, and despite the fact they've seen my mug on and off for 15 years, they don't seem to interested in pursuing a conversation, and as I've mentioned before I'm shy. (note to Kristi - when Shane has a church, make darned sure you go talk to that nice lady in her early 40's who's standing off to the side and isn't quite sure how to proceed. She'll love you for it).

So, anyhoo, there I am in church, led by the ladies, and very nicely, too. Then the woman who was doing the sermon got up. And, kids, she rocked my world. I'm not quite sure what to make of it. I thought I knew at first, but now I'm not sure how to pull it off.

What I've taken from my experiences a "Long Time Gone" is that you can do something with the best of intentions and be brutally, totally, and completely punished for it. Due to my not being the primary custodial parent the majority of the time since Big Bit started school, I've had everything from people who broke off conversations upon finding out my situation to "family" members saying (though not to my face, of course) that I was probably unfit or at the very least an extremely poor mother for not being in the same town as my child. (Please note, one of these family member should be investigated by Child Protective Services, and I'm not the only person who thinks that. So I thought she had a lot of nerve. No, she doesn't read this, so it's not any of you). I had someone tell me when I announced I was pregnant "Oh (bleep)". I took this as an assumption that I would not be able to keep custody or raise a second child effectively.

In fact, I will note for the historical record, there has never been any allegation I'm unfit. I just had the cojones to stand up for myself, and to some guys, that is enough of a crime.

I knew my truth, why I did make certain decisions and not others. Certain decisions were made by "independent" third parties who at the end of the day didn't seem independent at all. I've made my peace with that part of it, as it were. I don't claim to be without blame. I have plenty and I take responsibility. But I can't stand to even hear EHFH's voice anymore.

The woman, who had also been through a bad divorce, though one with different parameters than mine, said that you have to forgive. Not for the other person, but for yourself. I've heard this before, in other times and places, but this time it really hit me. Whether you believe in Christianity or you think it's bunk, this is a precept that does make a lot of sense.

You see, Friday is Big Bit's 18th birthday. I've been going through this crap for SIXTEEN YEARS. Let me repeat: SIXTEEN years. And while when I got divorced I had no hard feelings as such towards EHFH, he has made it his mission over the last SIXTEEN years to make my life a living hell whenever possible. His actions have pretty much made what affection remained morph into something pretty close to hatred. And while he hasn't always succeeded in his quest, he's succeeded enough to make me more than regret giving him that power. If you add in our married and divorced time, it's coming up on 25 years. That's a lifetime.

So I resolve to forgive on Sunday night. And I'm feeling very "Christlike in my love and forgiveness" to paraphrase the Church (not my Church but "the one true Church"). Then Big Bit calls me last night to talk to me about his FAFSA that has to be filed so he can get qualified for his scholarships, private grants, etc. He and his father are yelling at each other. Not screaming, but yelling pretty loud. I flashback to being afraid, with a two year old in a diaper in my arms, backing up towards a refrigerator, with a very enraged man in my face. I tell Big Bit that I have to get off the phone.

"Call me when you're done". I know it's not serious, honestly. I know they're just both mad, not violent in any way. Big Bit is 6 foot tall and at least 185 lbs. But it gives me the heebie jeebies.

Then, when Big Bit calls back, and I explain that I couldn't stay on the phone because it was creeping me out, he has the raw nerve to say "You aren't good with confrontation".

Oh, I'm good with confrontation, son. I held you in my arms ready to defend you to the end with your dad screaming in our faces. I'm glad you don't remember. I confronted 12 hours of labor only to go through major surgery to have you. And I'm glad I did. I bought my lawyer a freakin' Corvette to try and keep you with me. I'm just not good with screaming.

It's obviously hard to forgive. But it's a long time gone, and I'm tired of secrets. And yelling. It is time to forgive. Wish me good luck, I'm going to need it.

Other than posting pics of Big Bit's graduation which may include pictures of him, this is the last time I will mention that man, forgiveness or no. It's time for that as well.

Role Models

I was out posting on a Packers blog last night (http://www.packergeeks.com/) in case you are interested - and over the last day I have had an exchange with a guy named Phil Hanrahan. Phil is a Wisconsin native who wrote a book called "Life After Favre". Phil seems to be a really nice guy and a good writer - we've chatted a bit at Cheeseheadtv.com (no, it's not an internet stalker thing, we briefly discussed my old flame Fuzzy Thurston). I highly recommend his book - not just because you might be a Packers fan (and yes you should be, Steven) but because it's an interesting portrait of a town and its kindred spirits (like me) that kind of lost its center a little over a year ago, and how they began to recover that center.

Should a sports team, or a first round Hall of Fame quarterback be your center? Perhaps not. And maybe I'm exaggerating a bit. But the town of Green Bay seemed a bit hollow after last summer. So did I, in a way, sadly enough - and that brought me to the next thought.

Sir Charles Barkley once famously said that athletes "shouldn't be role models". Bullshit. Yes, I said it. I agree that pastors, firefighters, policemen, honest politicians, teachers, parents and so on should be role models as well. But here's the thing - athletes get paid for doing what they love to do for a living - and often quite handsomely. Is it a bad thing to show kids that you really can do what you love for a living, even if that things is "playing"? (I don't think it installs in these kids that "I too can be Sir Charles Barkley - at least in most kids). Do you think that if you asked most firemen if they'd rather be the starting quarterback for (insert favorite team) instead of what they're doing that they'd say no? I really, honestly think not.

Kids figure out that parents, teachers etc. are not perfect WAY before they figure it out about the athletes they admire (if any, of course). It isn't right they should believe that an athlete is right about anything, or perfect by any means, but the longer they look up to that example - a good one - the more they can be inspired to do what they love and to do good things for others. A lot of these guys have charitable foundations and endeavors that are quite worthy.

That's why Judas showing his colors bothered me so much. It wasn't that I thought he was perfect - far from it. Child out of wedlock, Vicodin and alcohol addiction, you name it, he's probably done it - and been caught at it. And, seemingly, had taken responsibility for it and grown as a person, as one does in these situations if handled in the best way possible. It's that he displayed, in a very public way, what he thought of the people he professed to love, those who supported him through his very public trials and humiliations with true forgiveness and not just because he was a "winner". Packer Nation loved him also because of the personality he displayed, the joy of playing and the joy of sharing those moments with fans. Professional athletes, people are watching you.

So if you are in a position where you get to do what you love to do, and get paid handsomely for it, you are a role model (this goes for actors too, but more so sports figures). It doesn't mean you have to be perfect. It means you should be honest, you should never be Tiger Woods (that many mistakes, anyone can screw up in life, but really on this one sheesh), and you should accept that you have a responsibility to the kids of this country.

Whether you want it or not.


'Nuff said.

On The Subject Of Things That Suck

Update: Friday, February 13. Charles passed away this morning. God Bless and RIP.

TH has been a Dungeons and Dragons guy for many moons now, since high school.

When he was at loose ends around 6 years ago (because the Mother Ship was foolish enough to let him go), he met up with Steve the Lawyer (of Golden Mallet Fame), Jim, the Professor (of Ugly Hoodie Fame) and lastly, Charles (another lawyer, loyal to the Mother Ship). They all shared this interest and went on to have many nights full of Mountain Dew (Yvette will get the reference even before finishing reading). While we lived in Utah, anytime TH came up for work, Charles, especially, was the one who said "come stay at my house...anything you need is yours." He is so very, very shy, but for TH, he made the effort and though I didn't know him well, it made me care for him very much.

Well, as of tonight, Charles is in the hospital. He has cancer, which we've long known, never with much hope for recovery, short of a miracle. Still, especially given how long TH's mother lived with her own particular form of this horrible illness, you just never expect someone to really go. You expect the miracle. But we think this time, it may be not happening.

And he's forty damn years old. Never married. No kids. Loving family and friends yes, but somehow I feel he's been robbed of the chance to live all of the facets of life he may have desired.
Some things just suck.

Be well Charles. Whatever happens, be well.

In his honor (thanks Yvette) I post the below video because I think, right now, he'd rather be having Cheetos and Mountain Dew and laughing at this stereotypical D&D adventure.

WE SOLD THE HOUSE

AND IT CLOSES IN 12 DAYS.

Guess TH and I had better really get everything out of there tomorrow. Holy Cow!

Happy Happy Joy Joy, Happy Happy Joy Joy....