OK. Everyone knows I hate Florida. It is hot and miserable. It is expensive. All of the neighbors I love are leaving. We have no family anywhere near by (Atlanta is the closest). The lifestyle of Florida isn't us. We are a family that loves to hike in the woods - can't do that here. We are a family that loves going to small festivals and watching parades - here it costs money to even get into the festival and the festivals aren't parades they are fairs. We are a family that loves picnics and holiday meals with extended family - here there is no extended family and with Nick's pay cut we can't ever go to visit them.
So here is our issue, we live some place we hate. We are middle class broke. When do you just look for a job back home and pack it all up? My husband's job right now might lead him to certifications that would help him down the road. I told him I want out of here in a year, but he says it may be like two or three years. Do you suck it up and live someplace that you absolutely hate, raising your kids around people who are bad influences on your kids, not living the life you want to live for another 2-3 years for the possibility of certifications that may open doors in the future? How long do you wait? We only have one life, we have already been down here two years, how much longer do we give it?
This is so hard. At this stage in my life and at this stage in my kids lives I just want to settle down. I want to live someplace I like around people I like. I want to purchase a home so we own it when we retire. I want to be a part of a community. I want the option to see family and friends again, but if we move back to Michigan (or Michigan area) with my husband's current qualifications it will mean we are broke forever. I know my husband wants more than that for us - that is the reason he went back for his MBA in the first place.
This is just so hard and we are so conflicted. . . .How long do you continue to live a life that you hate for the hope of something better? Can our family survive another 2-3 years down here - financially and emotionally?
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Saturday, May 11, 2013
That dread in the pit of your stomach. . .
OK - this is going to be long and depressing. Just have to get out my thoughts.
Since Nick's 25% pay cut I have just had this dread in the pit of my stomach. I don't want to eat (for many reasons) and I wake up several times every night having a panic attack. I just feel this pit of dread in my stomach for many reasons.
First, I am beginning to think we are not meant to be successful. There is something wrong with us as people, something missing in us that will NEVER allow us to be successful. We have never had any extra money until Nick's last job. Never. It has really only been this last job (and really the last year at the last job) that we have finally felt like we could start to live. We could eat healthy foods and not noodles and butter. We could start looking at putting braces on the kids teeth. We could take them to a Taylor Swift concert. We could go to the movies about once a month. When a car broke (and they brake a lot) we could fix it. For the first time ever I started to relax about money and enjoy life. Part of me wishes I hadn't because maybe then we would have had some money saved, but it was nice to start to relax. NEVER in my life have I been able to do that - EVER.
Then the paycut hit. . . 25% is HUGE. Down here where you are going to pay at least $1500/month in rent on anything in a decent school district, and a bag of apples can cost you $8, a 25% pay cut hurts. There will be no braces for the kids teeth on this pay. There will be no car repairs on this pay. This pay will pay our bills, but only if I cut our food budget by 25% as well. If I can't keep to this new food budget then this pay won't even pay our bills. We are worse off financially then we were before we moved down here - because not only do we have this rent payment but we also have a mortgage size student loan payment to pay as well.
So, added to this horribly tight budget comes the realization that we have little to no help. In Michigan if a car broke we could borrow my mom's until we got ours fixed. In Michigan if one of our jobs was running late than we could have my Mom pick the kids up at daycare - and my step father watched the kids in the summer which saved us a fortune. In Michigan there was always fish and venison in the freezer from family who had extra. In Michigan I had a job that I loved that was very flexible. I had cousins and aunts and uncles that helped to remind me of who I am. In Michigan, with the exception of the LONG winters, I was happy and could be who I am. I know we have family that will help if they can - but they are many states away - Texas/Michigan. We have already gotten some help, and we are so thankful for that. But I am scared.
So, every morning I wake up sick to my stomach. Not wanting to eat because of this sick to my stomach feeling AND not wanting to eat for fear that with this tight food budget that me eating might mean the kids don't. My husband's car is 20 years old - so at some point every day I panic about what the next big repair will be and how we are going to pay for it. Every day I look at Gabe's teeth, that need braces, and wonder how we are going to pay for that. I see the twins teeth coming in and wonder pray they come in straight. I know what it is like to have a mouthful of crooked teeth and how that affects people's opinions of you. I look at Gabe going off to college in 5 years and wonder how we are going to pay for that, along with the girls several years later. I look at the lack of retirement that we have - no pensions through Nick's work - no matching for us adding through Nick's work (like we can even add to it right now anyway) and wonder what the heck are we going to do.
I have been applying for jobs, Dietitian jobs. I remember how my family feel apart before when I worked full time. I remember sitting in the suicide room at Munson with Gabe because of the stress of me working full time before. Can my family survive me going back to work full time? There are a few part time options out there - but not many. I have sent out my resume to every one of them, and thus far have heard nothing back. That also adds a stress - has my two years out of the work force made me undesirable? Then there is the entire daycare stress - all daycares close at 6 - could I even get back here in time from some of these jobs by 6 to get the kids? Could we afford all the kids in daycare? The only full time daycares out there are $500 for the three girls. Gabe would have to go to the school run daycare, another $80 per week, but they don't offer care on Fridays. Could Gabe be OK on Fridays here alone?
I am sick with worry. I am trying to hear Grandma's words, "Don't worry, trust in God." I know worry is a sin. I know it is, but I can't help but worry. Lots of God loving people have horrible things happen to them. I am trying to have faith and just go with it, but waking up in the middle of the night in pure panic is hard.
On top of that - I hate what this is doing to my kids. I hate the kind of wife, mother, and person this is making me into. The twins were invited to a birthday party next week and I asked them what they wanted to get the girl, Lucy said, "Well, there is that swimsuit I only wore once, we can give that to her." And Ellie said, "I think so that we can save pennies we should give her one of our toys." This just stinks. Ellie made a Mother's day card for me and one of the questions on there was, "If your mother had one wish what would it be?" and she wrote, "To be rich."
As a kid in poverty I said to myself that my kids would NEVER know that feeling. I was going to go off to college and marry someone who was a hard worker and our kids would grow up middle class. They wouldn't know what it was like to be hungry or homeless. They wouldn't know what it is like to not have heat or water in their home. My kids would have braces if they needed them and they would have help with college. . . .now I feel like I am failing them as a parent.
I don't know. . . I hate myself right now. I hate my life right now. I hate that I don't know if we are going to be able to meet all our kids needs. I hate where I live. The few people outside this house that I like down here are all leaving this summer so when they go we ill have absolutely no support system down here. I love my kids and right now they are they only thing that is keeping me going - but I don't know how much longer I can keep going this way. I have to find a way out of this because I can't stand my life right now. . .
Since Nick's 25% pay cut I have just had this dread in the pit of my stomach. I don't want to eat (for many reasons) and I wake up several times every night having a panic attack. I just feel this pit of dread in my stomach for many reasons.
First, I am beginning to think we are not meant to be successful. There is something wrong with us as people, something missing in us that will NEVER allow us to be successful. We have never had any extra money until Nick's last job. Never. It has really only been this last job (and really the last year at the last job) that we have finally felt like we could start to live. We could eat healthy foods and not noodles and butter. We could start looking at putting braces on the kids teeth. We could take them to a Taylor Swift concert. We could go to the movies about once a month. When a car broke (and they brake a lot) we could fix it. For the first time ever I started to relax about money and enjoy life. Part of me wishes I hadn't because maybe then we would have had some money saved, but it was nice to start to relax. NEVER in my life have I been able to do that - EVER.
Then the paycut hit. . . 25% is HUGE. Down here where you are going to pay at least $1500/month in rent on anything in a decent school district, and a bag of apples can cost you $8, a 25% pay cut hurts. There will be no braces for the kids teeth on this pay. There will be no car repairs on this pay. This pay will pay our bills, but only if I cut our food budget by 25% as well. If I can't keep to this new food budget then this pay won't even pay our bills. We are worse off financially then we were before we moved down here - because not only do we have this rent payment but we also have a mortgage size student loan payment to pay as well.
So, added to this horribly tight budget comes the realization that we have little to no help. In Michigan if a car broke we could borrow my mom's until we got ours fixed. In Michigan if one of our jobs was running late than we could have my Mom pick the kids up at daycare - and my step father watched the kids in the summer which saved us a fortune. In Michigan there was always fish and venison in the freezer from family who had extra. In Michigan I had a job that I loved that was very flexible. I had cousins and aunts and uncles that helped to remind me of who I am. In Michigan, with the exception of the LONG winters, I was happy and could be who I am. I know we have family that will help if they can - but they are many states away - Texas/Michigan. We have already gotten some help, and we are so thankful for that. But I am scared.
So, every morning I wake up sick to my stomach. Not wanting to eat because of this sick to my stomach feeling AND not wanting to eat for fear that with this tight food budget that me eating might mean the kids don't. My husband's car is 20 years old - so at some point every day I panic about what the next big repair will be and how we are going to pay for it. Every day I look at Gabe's teeth, that need braces, and wonder how we are going to pay for that. I see the twins teeth coming in and wonder pray they come in straight. I know what it is like to have a mouthful of crooked teeth and how that affects people's opinions of you. I look at Gabe going off to college in 5 years and wonder how we are going to pay for that, along with the girls several years later. I look at the lack of retirement that we have - no pensions through Nick's work - no matching for us adding through Nick's work (like we can even add to it right now anyway) and wonder what the heck are we going to do.
I have been applying for jobs, Dietitian jobs. I remember how my family feel apart before when I worked full time. I remember sitting in the suicide room at Munson with Gabe because of the stress of me working full time before. Can my family survive me going back to work full time? There are a few part time options out there - but not many. I have sent out my resume to every one of them, and thus far have heard nothing back. That also adds a stress - has my two years out of the work force made me undesirable? Then there is the entire daycare stress - all daycares close at 6 - could I even get back here in time from some of these jobs by 6 to get the kids? Could we afford all the kids in daycare? The only full time daycares out there are $500 for the three girls. Gabe would have to go to the school run daycare, another $80 per week, but they don't offer care on Fridays. Could Gabe be OK on Fridays here alone?
I am sick with worry. I am trying to hear Grandma's words, "Don't worry, trust in God." I know worry is a sin. I know it is, but I can't help but worry. Lots of God loving people have horrible things happen to them. I am trying to have faith and just go with it, but waking up in the middle of the night in pure panic is hard.
On top of that - I hate what this is doing to my kids. I hate the kind of wife, mother, and person this is making me into. The twins were invited to a birthday party next week and I asked them what they wanted to get the girl, Lucy said, "Well, there is that swimsuit I only wore once, we can give that to her." And Ellie said, "I think so that we can save pennies we should give her one of our toys." This just stinks. Ellie made a Mother's day card for me and one of the questions on there was, "If your mother had one wish what would it be?" and she wrote, "To be rich."
As a kid in poverty I said to myself that my kids would NEVER know that feeling. I was going to go off to college and marry someone who was a hard worker and our kids would grow up middle class. They wouldn't know what it was like to be hungry or homeless. They wouldn't know what it is like to not have heat or water in their home. My kids would have braces if they needed them and they would have help with college. . . .now I feel like I am failing them as a parent.
I don't know. . . I hate myself right now. I hate my life right now. I hate that I don't know if we are going to be able to meet all our kids needs. I hate where I live. The few people outside this house that I like down here are all leaving this summer so when they go we ill have absolutely no support system down here. I love my kids and right now they are they only thing that is keeping me going - but I don't know how much longer I can keep going this way. I have to find a way out of this because I can't stand my life right now. . .
Monday, April 15, 2013
Assumptions. . .
Hello everyone, I hope everyone is having a great day. This blog will be about assumptions. I hate when people assume they know things that they don't. Why do people read into everything? This has to do with our summers.
OK - two years ago my family moved from Northern Michigan to Florida. We left the Traverse City area and moved to a suburb of Tampa. Now, I don't miss the long winters of the Traverse City area but I do miss everything else about that area. I grew up there and only left for college. Most of my family is there, although my husband's is not. I love how pretty it is up there. I love the lakes, dunes, nature trails, and Michigan people are my people - even if they do piss me off sometimes. Florida is a different world. I am deathly allergic to fire ants so I don't like to go outside because I am afraid I am going to be killed. We live in a suburb so we have little to no property and little to no privacy. Winters are pleasant out side, but from April to October it is just too hot to be outside not in a pool and it is too hot to have the windows open. The humidity is oppressive. I wouldn't trust walking through the woods because Florida is filled with bugs/snakes that are poisonous and aggressive. Then that brings us to the people - ever realize that all the strange stories come from Florida? Casey Anthony? George Zimmerman? The 2000 election mess up? Florida is filled with crazy people. People who eat the faces off of other living people. Now - I am not saying everyone down here is bat shit crazy - but there are enough of them to where I don't trust these people. I miss Michigan - my girls miss Michigan - Florida sucks and five of the six people in this house can't stand this state.
So, we moved down here two years ago and we stayed here the first summer. By the time school started the kids all wanted to kill each other. Stuck in a house - not going outside because it is too hot - getting on each others nerves. I don't know why the kids here don't get their break from December to Feb, instead of June - August - because June - August is horrible down here. At the end of that summer I looked at my husband and said, "I won't spend another summer down here." What this means is that every summer the kids and I go to Michigan. We spend about six weeks up there - enjoying family and Grandma's house. The girls and I love it up there - Gabe being the only one who doesn't want to go. That being said - my husband can't join us. He has to work.
The look on people's faces when they find out the kids and I go up while Nick stays here is just annoying. You can see it - they think we have marital problems. Some have even said, "Oh you poor people." What do you mean us poor people? Why does it mean our marriage has to be in trouble if we can spend six weeks apart each year? I know military families who are separated for longer than that.
So here it is - the kids and I go to Michigan for the summer - my husband does not. We wish he could join us. We are sad to leave him, but it is better for my kids to go "home" for the summer than to stay down here missing everyone and everything we love up there. We are hoping my husband can join us for a week or two this summer, but his job may not allow that to happen. He has to work to support us and we are thankful for all his hard work. I personally think this makes our marriage stronger, not weaker. We trust each other to know we will be fine apart for six weeks, and at the same time it makes us really miss each other by the end of it.
OK - two years ago my family moved from Northern Michigan to Florida. We left the Traverse City area and moved to a suburb of Tampa. Now, I don't miss the long winters of the Traverse City area but I do miss everything else about that area. I grew up there and only left for college. Most of my family is there, although my husband's is not. I love how pretty it is up there. I love the lakes, dunes, nature trails, and Michigan people are my people - even if they do piss me off sometimes. Florida is a different world. I am deathly allergic to fire ants so I don't like to go outside because I am afraid I am going to be killed. We live in a suburb so we have little to no property and little to no privacy. Winters are pleasant out side, but from April to October it is just too hot to be outside not in a pool and it is too hot to have the windows open. The humidity is oppressive. I wouldn't trust walking through the woods because Florida is filled with bugs/snakes that are poisonous and aggressive. Then that brings us to the people - ever realize that all the strange stories come from Florida? Casey Anthony? George Zimmerman? The 2000 election mess up? Florida is filled with crazy people. People who eat the faces off of other living people. Now - I am not saying everyone down here is bat shit crazy - but there are enough of them to where I don't trust these people. I miss Michigan - my girls miss Michigan - Florida sucks and five of the six people in this house can't stand this state.
So, we moved down here two years ago and we stayed here the first summer. By the time school started the kids all wanted to kill each other. Stuck in a house - not going outside because it is too hot - getting on each others nerves. I don't know why the kids here don't get their break from December to Feb, instead of June - August - because June - August is horrible down here. At the end of that summer I looked at my husband and said, "I won't spend another summer down here." What this means is that every summer the kids and I go to Michigan. We spend about six weeks up there - enjoying family and Grandma's house. The girls and I love it up there - Gabe being the only one who doesn't want to go. That being said - my husband can't join us. He has to work.
The look on people's faces when they find out the kids and I go up while Nick stays here is just annoying. You can see it - they think we have marital problems. Some have even said, "Oh you poor people." What do you mean us poor people? Why does it mean our marriage has to be in trouble if we can spend six weeks apart each year? I know military families who are separated for longer than that.
So here it is - the kids and I go to Michigan for the summer - my husband does not. We wish he could join us. We are sad to leave him, but it is better for my kids to go "home" for the summer than to stay down here missing everyone and everything we love up there. We are hoping my husband can join us for a week or two this summer, but his job may not allow that to happen. He has to work to support us and we are thankful for all his hard work. I personally think this makes our marriage stronger, not weaker. We trust each other to know we will be fine apart for six weeks, and at the same time it makes us really miss each other by the end of it.
Saturday, April 13, 2013
Reason #214 as to why I will never win a parent of the year award.
I love my children. They crack me up, but I realize I am not the best parent out there - not by far. I don't read to them every night. When they all start talking to me at once I get overwhelmed and can't understand any of them. Well - now I will give an example as to some of my inappropriate parenting.
I will start out by saying that Lucy can be pretty profane. Has been that way since she could talk. Her first word was "kitty", but not to long after that came her first two work sentence. . . "Damn it". She loved that phrase. When ever she would say it she would fist up her little hand and smack it on a hard surface while she said it. Cute big blue eyes and soft curls yelling out , "Damn it!" as she pounded her fist. Hard not to laugh. There were many other profanities, but the image of sweet little Lucy pounding her fist and saying "Damn it" is one that I hope will stay with me long after Alzheimer's has set in.
So a couple of weeks ago Lucy was in her play therapy, a place she goes every two weeks to learn how to deal with her emotions. While she was there Evelyn and I looked in the little shops in that strip mall (everything down here is in a strip mall!) In one of the stores we saw something and I immediately knew I had to buy it for my Lucy, it is something called a Dammit doll.
So I fast forward to lunch today. It was 12:30 - 30 minutes past lunch time - and she was hungry. I was going to make mac n cheese and asked her to get the boxes out - so she pulled three boxes out. She watched me put only two of those boxes into the water - this caused her to unload the missile silos.
"I AM REALLY HUNGRY! YOU HAVE TO MAKE THREE BOXES!" I tried to reason with her (haha - I should have known better) and I said, "Lucy, it will only be you, Ellie and Evie eating. Two boxes will be pleanty." "NO! I AM SO HUNGRY I COULD EAT THE HOUSE! YOU HAVE TO MAKE THREE BOXES!" At that point I told her I was only making two boxes and she needed to stop yelling. This sent her to the living room where she cried like a child who had never eaten in her life for about three minutes. Then she gets up and stomps to her bedroom where I start to hear something getting smacked on the bed frame and out comes, "DAMN IT! DAMN IT! DAMN IT!" She then stomped back out the kitchen, no longer crying but angry, Dammit doll in hand. She scowls at me and starts beating the doll on the counter repeat the phrase three more times. She turns to look at me again and stomps back to her bedroom. Really, all I could do was try to hide the fact that I really wanted to laugh. When I composed myself I asked her if she felt better. She yelled, "YES!"
Man - so funny. I know I shouldn't let her swear - and really we don't generally let her get away with it - but that was funny. Thus - reason number 214 as to why I will never win a parent of the year award. Honestly, I hope when the four of them get together to write the "Mommy Dearest" book that they take some of the proceeds and put me in a good nursing home!
I will start out by saying that Lucy can be pretty profane. Has been that way since she could talk. Her first word was "kitty", but not to long after that came her first two work sentence. . . "Damn it". She loved that phrase. When ever she would say it she would fist up her little hand and smack it on a hard surface while she said it. Cute big blue eyes and soft curls yelling out , "Damn it!" as she pounded her fist. Hard not to laugh. There were many other profanities, but the image of sweet little Lucy pounding her fist and saying "Damn it" is one that I hope will stay with me long after Alzheimer's has set in.
So a couple of weeks ago Lucy was in her play therapy, a place she goes every two weeks to learn how to deal with her emotions. While she was there Evelyn and I looked in the little shops in that strip mall (everything down here is in a strip mall!) In one of the stores we saw something and I immediately knew I had to buy it for my Lucy, it is something called a Dammit doll.
This doll looks like a Voodoo doll, but is made from a pretty fabric. It has a little phrase that is on the doll and it goes like this
When ever things don't go so well,
And you want to hit the wall and yell,
Here's a little dammit doll,
That you can't do without.
Just grasp it firmly by the legs
And find a place to slam it,
And when you whack the stuffing out
Yell, "DAMMIT! DAMMIT! DAMMIT!"
So, I really debated on if I should get this doll for my six year old. Evelyn was with me, telling me, "You have to get it for her." I knew it wasn't appropriate for her, but I just couldn't resist. I has a momentary thought of, "Well, maybe I will get it now and put it away until she is older." You know, when she is older we could joke about it being her first phrase. Of course I didn't wait though and I gave it to her when we got home. Initially she just hugged the doll and didn't want to hurt it. Intially.
"I AM REALLY HUNGRY! YOU HAVE TO MAKE THREE BOXES!" I tried to reason with her (haha - I should have known better) and I said, "Lucy, it will only be you, Ellie and Evie eating. Two boxes will be pleanty." "NO! I AM SO HUNGRY I COULD EAT THE HOUSE! YOU HAVE TO MAKE THREE BOXES!" At that point I told her I was only making two boxes and she needed to stop yelling. This sent her to the living room where she cried like a child who had never eaten in her life for about three minutes. Then she gets up and stomps to her bedroom where I start to hear something getting smacked on the bed frame and out comes, "DAMN IT! DAMN IT! DAMN IT!" She then stomped back out the kitchen, no longer crying but angry, Dammit doll in hand. She scowls at me and starts beating the doll on the counter repeat the phrase three more times. She turns to look at me again and stomps back to her bedroom. Really, all I could do was try to hide the fact that I really wanted to laugh. When I composed myself I asked her if she felt better. She yelled, "YES!"
Man - so funny. I know I shouldn't let her swear - and really we don't generally let her get away with it - but that was funny. Thus - reason number 214 as to why I will never win a parent of the year award. Honestly, I hope when the four of them get together to write the "Mommy Dearest" book that they take some of the proceeds and put me in a good nursing home!
Sunday, April 7, 2013
An idiot angered Angel . . .
Sigh. Here comes another rant. I probably will be profane, just warning you. . .
OK - believe it or not most of the time I ignore things most people say. I do have the, "Wow, did they really just say that?" moment a lot, but usually I can just let it roll off and just look at the source. Really, that is what I should be doing now instead of letting it eat me up and making me ill, but I can't. I have to get it off my chest. In part, I am very mad at myself because I didn't confront this person when it happened, but me being me I was just left speechless after hearing the crap spew from her face. . .
I will say I have a good son. He is a thinker. He thinks a lot about things. He has a way of looking at things and seeing things that amazes me. He may be 12, and when he is not letting his 12 year old emotions get the better of him he is a great person to talk to. Gabe also cares a lot about people. It bothers him immensely when he sees animals, kids, and elderly people go without or be treated poorly. He helps to deliver meals on wheels with me and he loves it. He is nice to the elderly people, and has made a few really good friends among the elderly people. On top of all of this, he is probably the smartest person I have ever and ever will meet. Gabe will be a good man someday.
I will say, I do know my son's flaws. Gabe does not like to be around a lot of people. He is a loner - as are my husband and I. He would be happy if he saw his friends a few times a month, that would be ideal for him. He is easily irritated and hurt by people. People who are energetic annoy him. He gets very upset hearing people fight and yell at each other. He gets very hurt when friends do pre-teen teasing, he takes it personally. Gabe is not charismatic. He says things how he sees them and he won't sugar coat things, and a lot of people see this as rude. Gabe also works very hard to not let anyone know what he is feeling. He sees showing emotions as a weakness so he works very hard to never show those emotions.
That is pretty much my son in a nutshell.
Now, recently we had a get together in our neighborhood. Several neighbors as well as a few other people came, there was food, there was beer, the kids had a lot of fun running around and playing. My girls, being who they are, were in their element. Gabe came up to me once the sun went down and said, "Yah, I have had enough. I am going to bed." He wasn't being rude, he was being him.
A couple of hours later I was talking to a lady who I have met several times. She has a boy my son's age and they got into a physical altercation not long after we moved to Florida.. To make a long story short, my son was swimming in the pool with her two boys, one Gabe's age and one a few years younger. The younger boy kept following Gabe around saying, "Punch me in the face." Gabe said "no" several times until finally he said to the boy, "Do you really want me to punch you in the face?" And the boy said, "Yes! I can take it! Punch me in the face." So Gabe, being the literal person he is, punched this younger child in the face. The boy that was Gabe's age then jumped on Gabe and tried to drown him - and I mean seriously drown him - make him dead. Now, I do not condone Gabe punching this child in the face, and I had a long discussion with Gabe that he should never, ever hit anyone smaller and weaker then him even if the beg him to do it, but this child tried to kill my son. Needless to say this woman doesn't think highly of Gabe and Gabe works very hard at to avoid everyone in that family.
Anyway, to get back my irritation, the girls were being social, like always. I was discussing to this person how social my girls are, they love people, and then I ended it with, "And then we have Gabe." I meant it to be a joke because Gabe does not hide the fact that a party is the last place in the world he wants to be, he is so the opposite of my girls on this that there is something comical about it. This person saw this as an opening and at that point she just ran with it going on and on about how I just have to accept what God gave me and bide my time until he is 18 and will be out of the house. She discussed about how hard it would be to have a child like him but God gave him to me for a reason. In a few more years he would be gone and I could enjoy life again.
I just stared at her open mouthed as she continued to ramble on, eventually getting to how wonderful her kids are and how smart they are. I couldn't say anything to her for a while after that. I tried to tell myself this was the ignorant ramblings of a drunk bitch. I tried to let it go. . . but now I am just mad. Mad at her for presuming things about my son, who she knows little to nothing about. Mad at myself for not spitting in this persons face and gathering my children and going into the house.
I am mad that I didn't tell her this (and again, I am sorry if this is profane but I have to say it somewhere)
Excuse me, how dare you assume that my son is this terrible person who must be endured. You have no right say or think these things about him, because in all honestly you aren't fit to lick his boots.
That child, that child that I must "accept as he is and bide" my time has the most amazing mind of anyone you will ever meet. He will some day cure cancer or make a rocket to visit Mars. He will change the world in ways you have never and will never even be able to comprehend. Just because you do not understand his ways does not mean that he is bad or wrong, he is just not you or your children.
That child cares more about people than you can ever comprehend. That child will put his last dollar into the Salvation army bucket without even thinking, he will try to do it so no one notices it for he doesn't do it for the attention, he does it because it is right. That child begs and pleads with me to bring home every stray cat I see on the streets. That child turns away from homeless and hungry people sad and upset over their situation and angry because there is nothing he can do about it.
On top of that, Gable has over come more in his 12 years of life than many people overcome in 50 years. From being born dead, overcoming autism, and being ridiculed for not being like everyone else - Gabe already has the story that people write books about.
How dare you?! How dare you think these things about another person's child. How dare you have the audacity to say this things to anyone, much less his mother? What the hell is wrong with you?
OK - believe it or not most of the time I ignore things most people say. I do have the, "Wow, did they really just say that?" moment a lot, but usually I can just let it roll off and just look at the source. Really, that is what I should be doing now instead of letting it eat me up and making me ill, but I can't. I have to get it off my chest. In part, I am very mad at myself because I didn't confront this person when it happened, but me being me I was just left speechless after hearing the crap spew from her face. . .
I will say I have a good son. He is a thinker. He thinks a lot about things. He has a way of looking at things and seeing things that amazes me. He may be 12, and when he is not letting his 12 year old emotions get the better of him he is a great person to talk to. Gabe also cares a lot about people. It bothers him immensely when he sees animals, kids, and elderly people go without or be treated poorly. He helps to deliver meals on wheels with me and he loves it. He is nice to the elderly people, and has made a few really good friends among the elderly people. On top of all of this, he is probably the smartest person I have ever and ever will meet. Gabe will be a good man someday.
I will say, I do know my son's flaws. Gabe does not like to be around a lot of people. He is a loner - as are my husband and I. He would be happy if he saw his friends a few times a month, that would be ideal for him. He is easily irritated and hurt by people. People who are energetic annoy him. He gets very upset hearing people fight and yell at each other. He gets very hurt when friends do pre-teen teasing, he takes it personally. Gabe is not charismatic. He says things how he sees them and he won't sugar coat things, and a lot of people see this as rude. Gabe also works very hard to not let anyone know what he is feeling. He sees showing emotions as a weakness so he works very hard to never show those emotions.
That is pretty much my son in a nutshell.
Now, recently we had a get together in our neighborhood. Several neighbors as well as a few other people came, there was food, there was beer, the kids had a lot of fun running around and playing. My girls, being who they are, were in their element. Gabe came up to me once the sun went down and said, "Yah, I have had enough. I am going to bed." He wasn't being rude, he was being him.
A couple of hours later I was talking to a lady who I have met several times. She has a boy my son's age and they got into a physical altercation not long after we moved to Florida.. To make a long story short, my son was swimming in the pool with her two boys, one Gabe's age and one a few years younger. The younger boy kept following Gabe around saying, "Punch me in the face." Gabe said "no" several times until finally he said to the boy, "Do you really want me to punch you in the face?" And the boy said, "Yes! I can take it! Punch me in the face." So Gabe, being the literal person he is, punched this younger child in the face. The boy that was Gabe's age then jumped on Gabe and tried to drown him - and I mean seriously drown him - make him dead. Now, I do not condone Gabe punching this child in the face, and I had a long discussion with Gabe that he should never, ever hit anyone smaller and weaker then him even if the beg him to do it, but this child tried to kill my son. Needless to say this woman doesn't think highly of Gabe and Gabe works very hard at to avoid everyone in that family.
Anyway, to get back my irritation, the girls were being social, like always. I was discussing to this person how social my girls are, they love people, and then I ended it with, "And then we have Gabe." I meant it to be a joke because Gabe does not hide the fact that a party is the last place in the world he wants to be, he is so the opposite of my girls on this that there is something comical about it. This person saw this as an opening and at that point she just ran with it going on and on about how I just have to accept what God gave me and bide my time until he is 18 and will be out of the house. She discussed about how hard it would be to have a child like him but God gave him to me for a reason. In a few more years he would be gone and I could enjoy life again.
I just stared at her open mouthed as she continued to ramble on, eventually getting to how wonderful her kids are and how smart they are. I couldn't say anything to her for a while after that. I tried to tell myself this was the ignorant ramblings of a drunk bitch. I tried to let it go. . . but now I am just mad. Mad at her for presuming things about my son, who she knows little to nothing about. Mad at myself for not spitting in this persons face and gathering my children and going into the house.
I am mad that I didn't tell her this (and again, I am sorry if this is profane but I have to say it somewhere)
Excuse me, how dare you assume that my son is this terrible person who must be endured. You have no right say or think these things about him, because in all honestly you aren't fit to lick his boots.
That child, that child that I must "accept as he is and bide" my time has the most amazing mind of anyone you will ever meet. He will some day cure cancer or make a rocket to visit Mars. He will change the world in ways you have never and will never even be able to comprehend. Just because you do not understand his ways does not mean that he is bad or wrong, he is just not you or your children.
That child cares more about people than you can ever comprehend. That child will put his last dollar into the Salvation army bucket without even thinking, he will try to do it so no one notices it for he doesn't do it for the attention, he does it because it is right. That child begs and pleads with me to bring home every stray cat I see on the streets. That child turns away from homeless and hungry people sad and upset over their situation and angry because there is nothing he can do about it.
On top of that, Gable has over come more in his 12 years of life than many people overcome in 50 years. From being born dead, overcoming autism, and being ridiculed for not being like everyone else - Gabe already has the story that people write books about.
How dare you?! How dare you think these things about another person's child. How dare you have the audacity to say this things to anyone, much less his mother? What the hell is wrong with you?
Friday, March 22, 2013
Am I fooling myself. . . .
Now, what do we do with our little Lucy? That is the question of the day. Little Lucy is very bright, but sitting still in school and focusing on what the teacher is saying is hard for her. She did OK until October of 2011. Then she had a terrible reaction to a DTaP and now she just has a hard time in school. To make matters worse, the school she goes to is very standardized test score driven. The kids are all "yes sir" "no sir" and are quiet until spoken to. It is in this type of classrooms, where the children sit and listen, remembering all they have heard is where our little out spoken Lucy, who has her own thoughts, has problems.
It is obvious that our current school situation isn't going well. She can't focus enough to do the same work as the other students (she is learning though - but that is because she is just so dang smart). Sitting in her seat while a teacher reads a book is beyond her self control. She tries - she tries hard - but every day she comes home in tears because, "I just couldn't do it." This school is not the place for her.
So today I finally took a tour of the school her therapist and everyone at this current school keeps telling me I should send her to. It is a private school about 10 miles from here. Everyone keeps telling me it is designed for "kids like her". I read the reviews of the school - a Christian Based school that uses the BJU homeschooling curriculum. Parents who reviewed the school spoke highly of it. Grades are combined, usually two grades in each room. That isn't an issue since the max class size varies from 6 students to 15. I put it that way because the grades are designated by levels. Level one is for the lowest functioning students, Level two is for mid level students, and level three is for the highest level of student. The level one classes only are allowed 6 students per class. The administrator was very nice, really seemed to care about his facility and the students that were there. It was honestly just a small building at the end of a strip mall.
Sounds great so far - right? It actually seemed like a good facility - but I don't want my Lucy to go there. Why don't I want her to go there? Every child in that school had some level of developmental delay. To walk the 20 feet to the bathroom the kids had to hold on to the rope so no one got lost. Even the level 3 classroom, the highest functioning classroom, isn't on grade level with other schools.
I don't know, maybe I am just fooling myself. I am not blind to Lucy's "issues". I do see her problems with focus, and as much as I hate to admit this - I am taking her in to see if we could try her on some ADD/ADHD medications to see if that would help her. I know her half dozen diagnosis - I know what they mean - but when I look at my Lucy I see a bright, funny child who, in the right school setting, can go off and do anything with her life that she puts her mind on doing. When I look at Lucy I see potential. I don't see a child that needs to be sent to a special school designed for kids that can't do normal school work.
This is, in my opinion, the hardest part of parenting. Making decisions that could effect the course of their life. If she needs this school and I don't send her because, I don't know, maybe I am too proud to think that my child fits in with those other children, and she just stagnates at regular public school, self-esteem falling, falling behind academically because it just isn't the right place for her - this is going to effect the rest of her life. If I do send her to a school like this - what will her future be? Am I fooling myself and blind to what Lucy really needs, or do I see the real Lucy and I just need to keep pushing for her future in the public school system. . . .
I hate this - but I love my little Lucy.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Traveling through time.
Memory is an amazing thing. It really is. Most of the time I am thankful for having such a good memory, because I know a lot of people who don't. There are things I wish I could forget - but I would much rather have the memories of the bad things than lose the memories of the good things.
Lately I have been in my "missing Grandma" low cycle. I always miss her, wish I could call her up and talk to her, but some times are harder than others. The thought of never getting to hug her or talk to her again can be crippling at times. I try to focus on the joy she brought to my life, and not the emptiness her loss has left me with. I try. . . .
So today I was cooking dinner (still working on it). Ellie wanted to watch TV (she is such an addict), but TV brings so many fights to our home that I am starting to really be a control freak on the TV. So 4pm came around and I decided to turn on the TV for her to watch. Normally she puts on Futurama (I know - so not appropriate for a 6 year old), and eventually there are screaming fights over which episodes to watch. Well, I decided that if they want to watch TV I am the one in control over the programming, so I put on Buck Rogers in the 25th Century.
So there I was, in the kitchen peeling eggs with Lucy, while Ellie was watching Buck Rogers in the living room. It was at that moment when my memory sparked and I was in Grandma's living room, in one of those big blue chairs with the chair is pushed up about two feet from the TV, a plate of food is in my lap (mac n cheese or a pot pie) and I was watching TV while Grandma was in the kitchen. In all honestly she was probably eating her dinner alone out there at the table while I was allowed to eat supper in front of the TV (now, as an adult I feel bad about that, but as a kid I was excited to eat while watching TV.) It was like I was back there, for just a moment. The smells of her house fresh in my mind. The feel of the fabric of that chair on my skin like it was now, not 30 years ago. The warmth, security, love and joy that was Grandma was here with me for a moment.
Like traveling through time. . .
Lately I have been in my "missing Grandma" low cycle. I always miss her, wish I could call her up and talk to her, but some times are harder than others. The thought of never getting to hug her or talk to her again can be crippling at times. I try to focus on the joy she brought to my life, and not the emptiness her loss has left me with. I try. . . .
So today I was cooking dinner (still working on it). Ellie wanted to watch TV (she is such an addict), but TV brings so many fights to our home that I am starting to really be a control freak on the TV. So 4pm came around and I decided to turn on the TV for her to watch. Normally she puts on Futurama (I know - so not appropriate for a 6 year old), and eventually there are screaming fights over which episodes to watch. Well, I decided that if they want to watch TV I am the one in control over the programming, so I put on Buck Rogers in the 25th Century.
So there I was, in the kitchen peeling eggs with Lucy, while Ellie was watching Buck Rogers in the living room. It was at that moment when my memory sparked and I was in Grandma's living room, in one of those big blue chairs with the chair is pushed up about two feet from the TV, a plate of food is in my lap (mac n cheese or a pot pie) and I was watching TV while Grandma was in the kitchen. In all honestly she was probably eating her dinner alone out there at the table while I was allowed to eat supper in front of the TV (now, as an adult I feel bad about that, but as a kid I was excited to eat while watching TV.) It was like I was back there, for just a moment. The smells of her house fresh in my mind. The feel of the fabric of that chair on my skin like it was now, not 30 years ago. The warmth, security, love and joy that was Grandma was here with me for a moment.
Like traveling through time. . .
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