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Feb
28
I’ve started to write this post for several days, but I keep stopping as soon as I get past the title. I’ve had this inner struggle going on about whether to write it at all, but it’s been on my mind for days, so I guess I will share what’s in my heart.
My son has had a friend since probably first grade. My boys don’t seem to have “best friends” but this boy had been to our house and came to Nolan’s birthday party sleepover. Nolan has stayed over at his house and went to vacation bible school with this boy and his family, so they are good buddies. I liked this little boy, he was polite and no trouble at all. But it made me nervous when Nolan went to his house, because his family restricted TV and electronics. I don’t think that’s a bad thing, actually the opposite. The family was so conservative that I had a talk with my son about not using the word “butt” when he was over there. The little boy made Nolan a wallet out of duct tape once, which was quite impressive. When Nolan asked how he could do that, I said probably because he’s not watching Spongebob all the time. Honestly, I was in awe of this family, and possibly just a little jealous of their parenting style.
This is the part that is hard to write, hard to say, hard to think about. My husband and I were watching the morning news last week, and the news anchor said that a local high school teacher had been charged with sexual battery of a 16 year old student. Then they showed a picture of Nolan’s friends dad. Mike and I instantly looked at each other and said, it’s not possible. I was literally shocked speechless, and my first gut response was that it couldn’t be true. But I was also sick to my stomach at the thought, and deep down, I didn’t know what to think. My husband was adamant that it had to be a mistake, and I was hoping he was right.
Later that day, I checked online for more information. I was shocked and saddened to read that the man had admitted to it, and had turned himself in at the police station. The article I read went into graphic detail about the crime, which I can’t and won’t repeat. I forwarded the article to Mike, and he agreed then that it probably wasn’t just a horrible mistake.
Because of my husband’s job, the details of this case are not shocking or surprising to him. He sees much worse every single day. But he doesn’t bring those stories home, so I’m not used to hearing it. It is shocking to me, and it has haunted my every thought for several days. No matter how many times you read about this in the paper or hear it on the news, there is nothing that can compare to how it feels when they flash the mug shot on the screen and you know the person. God help me, my son spent the night at his house.
Mike and I are certain that nothing happened to our son when he was at their house. But we still had to have a conversation with Nolan that we never wanted to have, about someone that he knows. Of course we wanted to make sure that nothing had ever happened to him, but I also wanted to make sure that we talked to him before he heard anything at school. I felt like I was taking an ice pick and shattering my sons innocence when he asked why this person was in jail.
We all feel the same revulsion and anger and outright hatred when we hear about someone hurting a child. I don’t care if the child is 6 or 16, there is nothing more abhorrent than that. This case has been particularly hard for me. Obviously because we knew this person and my son spent time at his house. But all the times I’ve read or heard similar stories, I have never once dug deeper and thought about how this affects the family of the perpetrator. This hasn’t just hurt the teenager involved. It has devastated that family, the wife, the children, the parents. So many lives will never be the same.
I don’t know this family well enough to know what is going to happen in their household. I know the kids haven’t been to school all week, and I told my son, they may not be back, at least not to the same school. I explained to Nolan that the reason he can’t say anything about this, to anyone but especially to his friend if he ever comes back, is because no matter what that man did, he is still that childs father. I can’t imagine the hurt and confusion and fear those kids and their mom are feeling right now, and my heart aches for them as much as I ache for the teenage victim.
This has also made me seriously doubt my judgment. I know that’s irrational, because there was no way I could have known and I had no reason to suspect anything. When my kids were younger, we would talk about how you never get in a strangers car, no matter what they say. I would take it further, and say that there are people that we know that we still would not want you to go anywhere by yourself with. Not because they were “bad” people, but simply because we didn’t know them well enough to send our kids off with them. The kids always wanted specifics, so they’d say, what about our neighbor, and I’d say yes or no, depending on how well we knew the person. There were very few people that I would trust my kids with unconditionally. It makes my physically ill all over again when I realize that this person was someone I would have trusted. I did trust. How can we ever be sure?
We live in a suburb, and this kind of thing makes the front page of the newspaper. A couple of months ago, a youth minister was arrested and charged with a similar crime. That man had been a substitute teacher at the 7th grade center, where my other son goes to school. Because these things happened so close together, in our small, safe suburb, the paper not only wrote about the crime itself but published a long article about safety, how to recognize the danger signs and how to protect your children. Good article, in theory. In reality, there might not be any danger signs until it’s too late.
What do you say to your kids about things like this? How much do you tell them, and when do you tell them? There is no hiding behind picket fences, assuming we’re safe because of our nice schools and quiet neighborhoods. I’ve had a big, unwelcome reality check, and it’s taking me awhile to wrap my mind around this.
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Feb
25
Life is so funny. I really believe things happen for a reason, and what comes around, goes around. Sometimes that just smacks me right in the face.
I love my thirteen year old son. But this has been the year of struggles with him. After years of saying it would never happen, we got him a cell phone to take to band camp this summer. Then when he came home from camp, and didn’t touched the phone all summer, we patted ourselves on the back. He wasn’t one of those texting obsessed kids that we all know. HA.
Then school started, and that phone has been the thorn in my side ever since. We have taken it away, we have limited his hours of use, we use it as a consequence for just about everything because he is obsessed with his phone. He would stay up all night texting if we hadn’t put a curfew on the phone. I’ll admit, there have been times when it has been very handy for him to have a phone, but I still have nightmares about that cell phone.
I suggested to my son that he give up his cell phone for Lent. I have always given up something for Lent, and I encourage my kids to do the same. So far, they are happy to give up things like spinach or any green vegetable, which completely misses the point of sacrifice. I knew there was no way my son would give up his precious phone, but I suggested it anyway. He laughed.
While I was fixing dinner tonight, he came moping into the kitchen. He clearly needed to tell me something but was hesitating. Finally, he told me that he had just dropped his cell phone into a sinkful of water. His beloved, cherished phone. In the water.
I hope this doesn’t sound horrible, but I honestly could not contain my joy. I broke into a huge smile. Of course I asked how in the heck did that happen, but there’s never a logical explanation for these kind of things. And I didn’t care. All I knew was that my arch nemesis, the dreaded cell phone, was dead. He tried to deny it, and said that it was still working. And the phone gave a good effort. It sputtered a few times, tried valiently to come back to life, but it was dead.
Tanner wasn’t too upset, he was actually laughing at how that could have happened to him, the most dedicated texter in the seventh grade. When my husband got home, Tanner told him what happened. Mike looked at me, and told Tanner to leave the room so that we could do our happy dance in private. It was a day of celebration at our house. The phone is dead.
After a couple hours, Tanner finally accepted the fact that the phone is wrecked. He gave a half hearted attempt at asking if there was any way he could have a new one by tomorrow, but gave up when we collapsed on the floor from laughing. The child doesn’t have any money, so there will not be a new phone. Funny how things work out.
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Feb
23
The sick time. Nolan was unbearably cranky this weekend, and the only thing we could think of was that he must be overtired, because this was way beyond normal crankiness. But he woke up this morning barely able to talk, so we made a trip to the doctor. Poor kid has strep throat.
Besides stomach flu, which is absolutely the worst, I hate strep throat. My husband, Mr. Healthy-As-A-Horse, has had strep throat once in the 20 years I have known him. Which is why, when the boys or I come down with it, his response is, Oh it’s just a sore throat. But the one time he had it, it knocked him down too. The man stayed in bed for 2 days, and you can’t even imagine the whining I heard.
If one of us gets sick, usually all of us do – not my husband, but the boys and I will pass everything around. So right about now I’m stomping my feet and throwing a little fit, because I do NOT want strep throat. I am a baby, I know, but I’ve got stuff to do and cannot take time out to be sick. Plus, it really really hurts.
Because I feel sorry for my little guy, I’ve stocked up on chicken soup (NO, I don’t make homemade. Chicken and Stars are magical, anyway), popsicles and pudding, so he can eat without hurting his throat. Let me ask you, who will do this for me if I get sick? Now, if you are one of those rare but fortunate women that have husbands who will nurse you back to health, don’t tell me about it! Just kidding, I am completely jealous if that’s the case. Because my husband, who never gets sick, does not feel much sympathy for us puny weaklings that do get sick. He would make a horrible nurse. I was sick last year and it turned out to be strep and bronchitis. After fighting it for a long time, I finally just went to bed, and slept about 15 hours. My husband was shocked, and a little annoyed, at my long nap. He couldn’t understand how anyone could sleep that long. I had to explain, Honey, that’s what sick people do. Heaven helps us if that man ever gets the flu.
Anyone else stuck at home with sick kids?
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Feb
17
Don’t be fooled by that title, this is not a political blog. But I felt like this was too important not to write about. I’m sure you’ll agree.
I mentioned to my husband, just as an offhand comment, that I had read that President Obama had the power to release all of George Bush’s secrets. I just thought that was an interesting news tidbit. Nolan was there and heard my comment. He gave me a startled look, and we had this conversation:
Nolan: George Bush has secrets?
Me: Yes, most people do actually.
Nolan: (looking shocked) You mean, like he ran around the White House naked?
Me, after cracking up: No, probably not that secret.
Nolan: What OTHER secret could possibly be worse that that???
I guess when you’re 11, being naked, and having people know about it, is the Worst Secret Ever.
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Feb
16
My sister-in-law and niece came to visit us this weekend. My niece is 9, and it always makes me happy to watch my tough as nails teenage son with her. With the rest of us he has this attitude that we are just not cool enough for him to look up from his Very Important text messages to give us his full attention. But my niece is the only girl with 3 boy cousins. She adores my sons, and especially Tanner. They’ve both always been very good with her, and played with her even when it meant Barbies. But I totally expected that to end, and one day they’d just ignore her, or barely tolerate her.
I was pleasantly surprised when I found my 13 year old tough guy and his darling 9 year old cousin playing Guitar Hero, free style, her singing “I’m a Pretty Princess” and him playing back up. Is that not the sweetest, cutest thing?
What was not sweet or cute was when I asked him to help me clean the house before they got here. I gave him specific chores, which included vacuuming the house. I had most of the cleaning done, and saved the vacuuming for very last. I assumed that as he vacuumed, he’d glance around the house and take care of anything that needed picked up or put away.
I don’t even know why, but I made a quick run through of the house just before they were supposed to get here. I checked the guest bedroom – where they sleep. At first glance, it looked good. But wait, what was that white thing dangling from the bottom of the desk chair? Could it be a pair of boys underwear??? How did that even get there, when it’s the guest bedroom?
My son was no help in figuring out why there was a pair of tightey whiteys in the guest bedroom, maybe because he was rolling on the floor laughing. I’m not clear on how he managed to vacuum that room and not notice them, either. I am just so glad that I decided to check that room one last time.
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Feb
9
Since my last post, where I admitted to my horrible, no good, cranky mood, I did the unthinkable, the unimaginable. I took a break. Actually, I gave myself permission to slack off for a few days. I can’t slack off everything, I still have that mothering gig that is full time plus overtime. But I didn’t work as hard, didn’t get much housework done, and stayed away from the computer. I do love this blog, and blogging is so cathartic for me. But at some point, something has to give, and it could not be me.
You know what’s funny? The fact that I suffered through a really horrible couple of weeks, with very little sleep and lots of stress, before I would give myself permission to take a break.
My son has been having a hard time at school, a really hard time, which means he has not been sleeping well and has been having headaches. He came home one day last week, and it had been a particularly bad day. We talked for a long time, and without hesitation I told him he could stay home the next day. Before you yell at me for that bad parenting call, he did have a dentist appointment that would keep him out of school all afternoon, so I really just let him sleep in. But I didn’t hesitate to let him stay home for the morning, after we talked and I realized how stressed out he was getting.
My husband has had a couple of very busy, stressful weeks at work. He has some “use it or lose it” vacation time, so he just decided he needed Friday off, to recover from the past week. He didn’t hesitate or agonize about that decision or ask permission from anyone, he just took the day off, because he needed to.
The key here is with my husband, and me with my son, there was no hesitation. They needed a break, so they took a break. My son did have to get my permission, but I was ok with it. So why, when it is me that needs the break, why do I put if off? Why do I make a mental list of reasons why it is impossible for me to take a break? That’s what I do. I know I’m tired, I know I’m stressed out, I know that it’s getting so bad that even things that normally make me very happy are starting to annoy me. But I hold out, pushing myself on, til I’m ready to crack from exhaustion. Which is where I was last week. Which is where I’ve been many times before, because I just will not give myself permission to let things go and take a break.
I wish I could say I took my break in Maui, or the Bahamas. It wasn’t that kind of break, darn it. But I got some sleep, and even though I know this is true, I’m always amazed at what a difference it makes. I got some sunshine and exercise. I talked to old friends and sought advice from new ones. Talking it out is another great stress reliever, so my tendency to bottle everything up is working against me.
The things I was stressed about? Still here, but I’m in control. I can turn off the worry machine at bedtime, and just let it all go. I’ve vowed to try to take better care of myself. I need to for my own peace of mind, and so that I can take care of the people that need me.
Is it just me that has a problem with taking a break, or is it moms or women in general? Why was it so easy for me to see that my son needed a break and let him take it, but I can’t do that for myself? Why was it so easy – and it always is- for my husband to say, I need a day off? What is it like for you, can you see the warning signs and let yourself take a break when you need it, or are you like me, ignore the signs and agonize over taking a rest? And how do you give yourself a break, what do you do that helps you get back in the groove of life? This is something I really want to get better at, knowing myself and what I need and then giving myself what I need. So how can I do that?
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Feb
5
February did not come in with a bang, more like a thud. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, other than I’m tired, which is pretty normal. But I’m grouchy and have been snapping at my family. Usually I can rationalize that away, because gosh darn it, I am tired. But it’s a little out of hand this week.
I spent most of the night apologizing to everyone for being such a bear. The way things are going, I ‘ll probably have to spend another night apologizing again. Unless I can just hide out til my grouchiness goes away. My family probably wishes that I could do that, too.
It’s horrible when you’re just cranky, for no real good reason. I don’t count tired as a good reason, because for me tired is a way of life. I have got to shake this bad mood. I feel like I’m hiding away too, not returning phone calls, not blogging, just hiding.
Tomorrow is supposed to be sunny and warm, so I’ve put Go For A Walk on my list of things I have to do. Being outside and in the sun always helps me. I’m sure last weeks ice storm and the bitter cold contributed to my crankiness. Could we just get started with spring a little early this year? I am also insanely jealous of all the lucky bloggers going to BlissDom this weekend. I wanna go too!
What helps you when you get in a funk? I would say chips and salsa help me, but I’m old enough to know that gorging on chips and salsa isn’t really helping.
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Feb
1
1. The end of a cold, bitter, unproductive week.
2. The ice is melted and gone, replaced by sunshine and warmth.
3. A peaceful weekend. You can only truly appreciate this if you are living with a teenager.
4. The start of a new month. It will be better.
5. Bruce Springsteen performing at half time.
Make the world a better place by finding grace in small things.
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My boys
Where did those little guys go?Cuteness overload
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