7 years later…

A friend introduced me to Anne Lamott.

She gives a Ted talk about the 12 truths she learned from life and writing.  The two that immediately popped out at me are “stop helping so much” & “Just do it!”.

The other 10 are also spot on. But, in this moment in my life these two popped out to me personally.

Stop helping so much: I spent the last twenty years helping others even when I didn’t want to. I started to resent people because I was helping them. Today, that idea seems backwards to me. Today, when someone asks me for something I have learned to pause and think about it before saying yes. Sometimes I say “Let me check my schedule and get back to you”. I like to be able to say yes with the feeling of really wanting to help. If I say no, its because I really can not help. Something about the situation either doesn’t feel right with me or will be taking me away from something that is important to me. One of the ways I have combated the guilt I feel for not helping is advising on where else they can go for help. Sometimes people have to do a little more work, to help themselves.

Just do it: I used to start things and never finish. Or I would never start and talk about it for months or years. When I decided to change my life 7 years ago I never imagined I would become a “Get it” kind of girl! Today, one of my weaknesses may be my strength. I don’t think before I do. I get an idea and run with it! I try it, sometimes I fail and sometime I succeed. I do not let fear lead me, I let it trail behind me on my coat feathers trying to catch up. It’s always there. I am pretty sure if I thought too much about it, I wouldn’t do it. I would let the evil little committee in my head tell me I am crazy, slow me down or halt me all together. But, NO, today I just do it! Now, I own a business I love, I balance life with family (sometimes), and I am still married (happily, most days). Imagine that!

My 7 year anniversary is tomorrow. Happy 7 year to me! The day I decided to Just do it, for me!

Anne Lamott gives a Ted talk here. Love her balance of humor on serious topics. Must listen!!

 

Happy Mother’s Day

Every morning he says “whatda we have?”  This morning my response was “dance class”.  He replies “Chuckie cheese?’  I say, “No, Johnny you didn’t earn it.”.  Then he places his forehead against mine and kisses my nose gently.

This is the typical morning with John first thing.  He usually turns into a clown by tickling me, burping or farting.  But, he always says “exxxxxcuse me”.  He’s polite like that.

This morning for some reason he also asked for Grandpa and signed it.  I feel like his presence is here to say Happy Mother’s Day as well.

I am the luckiest mom in the world to have been chosen by John. He’s a clown, loving, feisty, polite, and more…and somehow I feel like I had nothing to do with all that.  I love this kid to bits!

Happy Mother’s Day!!!

Every visit has a memory

Every visit has a memory

Worst night this time around…

Every time John has a hospital stay there is something horrible that happens that we will never forget.  The first 13-month stent has a bunch of bad memories.  Like the time they placed an IV in his head because they couldn’t find his veins, they were so narrow.  Or the time they called us into the hospital at 2am saying this might be it, we need to get in fast.  I remember the rooms we were in and the people standing there.  Their faces are a blur but I know how many people were standing around and what they were doing.  This time around I will never forget tonight 3/13/17.  John destated to the 40’s on his oxygen.  I haven’t seen him that blue since he was a baby.  The whole experience is making me question every decision I have made this trip to the ICU.  Nothing like a trip to the ICU to fester up that mother’s guilt.  What should I have done differently? Maybe I should have come sooner? You know, like any mother except my decisions are based on life and death.  Oh, the fucking pressure!!! No wonder I drank!

I think what keeps me from breaking down is the fact that Kevin is breaking down.  He can’t stand this and emotionally collapses.  I end up having to hold him up, talk him down and tell him everything will be all right.  Tonight, after he went home I wanted to cry. But, I didn’t because I had to take care of John, get him to sleep and make sure he got his meds.  Then, when he fell asleep I sent Kevin a text letting him know.  Kevin called me.  How grateful I am he calls me today.  He was crying saying this isn’t fair and how hard it is to see John like this.  I sit and listen, tell him I understand and recommend he takes a hot shower and sleep well tonight. But, don’t forget to say your prayers.  He agrees, calms down and we hang up.

It’s my insatiable need to be in control that prevents me from breaking down.  I need to be the one barking out orders and telling people what John likes and doesn’t like, making recommendations on what to do next, talking to the doctors. It’s my character defects working to my advantage. I’ve yet to see a parent sobbing while making medical plans with a doctor in the ICU. It just doesn’t work that way.  You hold your shit together and do what you need to do.

And you remember every single detail and pray that the next time it will work out the same way.  And when it doesn’t you panic inside but manage to brainstorm more ways to move forward. And each step you take forward there is a heart wrenching twist in your gut praying it works. When it does there is a victory dance in your stomach that is hard to explain. When it doesn’t it is like a loss, like you are one step closer to losing him.

People that cry

My son John has been in the hospital.  He has the flu which means he needs ventilator support and drugs that open his airway and more drugs to counter the side effects of those drugs.  It’s a vicious cycle with the drugs, scares me to think the damage it’s doing to his body.  But, extremely grateful for the good it does.  Wednesday and Thursday night I never left the hospital.  I closed the store Thursday night because no one could cover my shift.  The kids that work for me seem too busy to work at times between college, family and social obligations.  Friday morning, I had to go into the shop to clean a machine.  I figured while I was out I would catch lunch with Nora and her daughter Zoe. 

Zoe is a feisty, bossy little lady that is descend for great things.  She’s a princess on some days with her Frozen princess Ella dress and a regular little girl on other days with her Pajama wearing style. She loves to make people smile but she has to be fed first.  She’s a girl after my own heart.  Nora and I arrived at Fannies, our favorite BLT hot spot, at the same time.  She was walking from her car with little Zoe trotting beside her chatting while I crossed the street to meet them at the front door.  Something about Zoe’s spark made me emotional.  I started thinking about Johnny and how he loves to make people smile.  My heart was broken watching him struggle in the hospital.  The last three days he hasn’t smiled at all.  When Zoe seen me she walked right up to me and hugged my legs.  The top of her head reaches just above my knees.  Her skinny little arms grabbed hold of my knees and gave a big squeeze.  Then she looked up at me and handed me two stickers.  Nora explained that she wanted to share her stickers to make me happy while I am so sad. The water works came on so much so that I couldn’t bring myself to sit down and eat lunch. 

This scene lasted less than a minute but has forever been engraved in my mind.  It reminded me of my own childhood and how we dealt with tears and sadness.  As a child, if I saw someone cry I was like a deer in headlights.  I didn’t know what to do.  The thought of providing a sad person with a hug or pat on the back was completely awkward to me.  It still is sometimes today. 

My father never cried, other than when his mother died and my son was born. I believe the fact that he didn’t cry was a life accomplishment for him.  While my dad was dying from cancer I set up his bedroom in our living room, Sunshine Rehab he called it.  I was forced to enroll John back in school instead of homeschooling because I knew I couldn’t handle the pressures of caring for Dad and John at the same time.  The first day of John’s school I came home crying because I felt they didn’t want him there, I was almost 5years sober at this time so crying wasn’t a weakness anymore, it was my strength.  My dad just stared at me like a deer in headlights.  A few days later he confessed to me that when he seen me like that, crying and all, “I almost cried”.  Imagine that.  He said it like it was an accomplishment that he didn’t cry.  As if crying would have been a bad thing. 

The last time my dad cried was with me.  He told me he was sorry I had to go through this.  I asked, “This?  Go through what?”.  He said, “Having to watch me die. You had to watch your mother die and now you are watching me die and I’m sorry for that”.  I said, “Thank you for allowing me to be here to take care of you, I love you”. Then we cried with our foreheads touching each other. 

Dad said, “Im gonna miss you”

I said, “You’ll be gone, Im gonna miss you more”

And I do ❤

First blog post: Who am I?

Today, I am an entrepreneur, a mother and wife. As I type this my son has his head resting on my thigh with an oxygen mask attached to his face via a home concentrator. Its bedtime so my husband is downstairs watching TV and probably sleeping because I have the kid watch night shift. It’s a routine we have become accustomed to over the last 12 years. More on that later…

The past me was a nine to fiver for a 500K corporation. I was working my way up to the top, having liquid lunches, meaning Bacardi, and kid free. Until I fell into marriage, became a foster parent and had my son John. Then, I was a stay at home mom turned medical advocate with a crash course in medical jargon and an education advocate with “due process” always in my master plan, but thankfully never initiated. This ME became a lonely housewife that liked to party.

Once you hit your bottom there is no other place to go but up. If you are desperate enough to change and surround yourself with the right people they will give you the steps to keep you moving forward even on your loneliest days.

The future ME, I haven’t met yet. I take it one day at a time and let my life play out the way it should. 10 years ago, I never would have imagined being the owner of a successful sweet treat shop. I’m pretty sure anyone who knew me couldn’t imagine it either. I think this is why I am blogging. I want to start thinking about what I want to do next. Writing has been such a healing process for me over the years. Some of what I wrote I shared on social media sites and some I did not. This is the time for me to heal from my past, move forward and write about it.

Maybe my future me is a writer?