Last Thanksgiving daddy held my hand tight and told me he had made peace with God and was ready to go home.  It was the last time I saw him before he died.

     If I had realized that this photo would be the only picture I would have of me with both my parents, I wouldn't have goofed around and flung my hand out like that.  When I look at this picture now, what I remember is how comfortable I was with the thought that my mama would never really leave daddy even though at the time this picture was taken, she was only months away from doing so.
     I also see why my daddy's second wife could never accept the family we were; why she despised my mother; why she has worked tirelessly to wipe out my daddy's first wife and the children she gave him.  I see that my parents loved each other and they loved their children.  It was love that remained even through divorce.  It was love that I was blessed to grow up with and was probably the reason that I never thought my mama would really leave.
     My mama lived in an orphanage from the time she was nine after her mother walked out on her daddy.  She didn't know anything about marriage or family dynamics except the popular opinion of the times which was:  If he doesn't make you happy, LEAVE.  My parents would get along great for long periods of time-the calm before the storm-and then have loud shouting matches the result of which were that she would move into my room with me and inform me that as soon as her children were grown, she was leaving.
       I was 19;  my brothers, 18 and 14.  We weren't grown and what I know now is, it wouldn't have mattered if we were.  Leaving was not the solution to her unhappiness.   I can't speak to all situations where couples feel compelled to divorce.  I can only speak about what I experienced and that was my parent's inability to deal with the problems between them.  Their divorce didn't solve any of those problems; it only denied us all the one thing we really had going for us:  love.
      My daddy's second wife of 29 years spends lots of time since his death saying how my daddy was her soul mate.  She spends lots of time saying how he was her best friend and how he will always be with her.  She spends a lot of time reminding everyone that she was his wife.   In the year before his death, she also spent a lot of time reporting how often he had accidents to anyone who would listen; jerking his pants down to "see if you've messed yourself" in front of whomever; snatching his hat off  and commenting on his balding head; telling him that his children didn't care about him and taking every opportunity to embarrass and humiliate him.  She spent a lot of time bullying him and trying to make him leave his 30 acres of dirt and little 3 bedroom rambler to her so she could have the power over what my brothers and I eventually inherit.

      What she is unable to understand is that I have my inheritance.  In the months before he died, daddy entrusted me with a message for mama:  he never stopped loving her and he wished he'd tried harder.  My mama says that now that he's gone she doesn't think about what he was like in his later years or even what drove her to leave in the first place. 
She remembers that she loved him.

  

     I miss the days when mothering was simple.  I felt important and wise and, to some degree, I was.  My present day mothering of  young adult children, who are living with life changing stresses, alternates between them clinging to me in that loving, nostalgic way and punches that knock me to my knees.  As they stumble around and attempt to make their own separate lives, I stand at the ready to assist but all too frequently I am knocked to the ground and chastised for my failure to make everything work out exactly as they wish.

     My offspring don't seem to realize that I am living with life changing stress, too.  It feels as if they believe their father and I have finished with any living of our own.  Our feelings, needs, hopes and dreams are inconsequential to any of theirs.  I suppose their attitude comes from so many years of letting my children be the culmination of all I hoped for as a young girl.  I wanted nothing more than to be a wife and mother; to have a family of my own with which to live.  The problem is that having a family is not a feat to be accomplished;  it is a way of living.  Only lately it feels more like a boxing match where I spend most of my time unconscious on the mat.

 But I am starting to learn how to box;  to keep my head down and heart protected; to avoid the quick jabs ands punches that come my way.  And when I get hit square and fall to the mat, I'm learning how to get back up again.



Realization time is almost upon us.  L has been dancing daily, going to community college, and hanging out with her boyfriend.  Our lives are suspended for the moment wondering what will be happening in the spring.  When she left school to transfer, she was 100 percent sure she wanted to pursue dance but as she's waited and prepared for these auditions, I see her confidence lag.

We're both taking deep breathes and knowing that God will be in her excitement or her disappointment.

I confess:  I was not intending to see a rheumatologist about my neck and feet pain.  But, my doctor's office called and said  "Your sonograms were normal but your neck x-ray showed mild arthritis and bone spurs.  You are following up with a rheumatologist, correct?"

And I said "Ding dang it!" 

What I really said was 'yes' and then made my appointment.

Looks like forty was my peak year and for the last eleven,  I've been heading down the other side of the hill.

A Winner

My son was waiting out on the front porch yesterday when my daughter and I returned home at 4 pm from a girls' day out.   He had been sitting there since 12:30.  He was ticked off because his phone was cut off.

We had an agreement.  I bought him  a CricKet phone in August and paid his first month's usage because-the official reason- he was getting set up in his own place. (The more accurate reason is that I'm an idiot.)  He was going to get his ducks in a row and then pay his own phone bill: $45 dollars monthly for unlimited text and talk.

Yesterday was October 12.  The bill is due on the 7th of each month.  He wanted to know why his phone was cut off and why his bill said he owed a hundred and seven dollars.  Let me say that he came to dinner three or four times in late August and played the good son and I paid his phone bill in September.  I looked up his bill on line and explained how this was OCTOBER and I had paid his bill in SEPTEMBER which was LAST month and he needed to pay for OCTOBER to get his phone turned back on and they were also indicating that he would owe money for NOVEMBER.  I said that I would pay over the phone FOR him and he would have phone service within thirty minutes.  He said "Ok!  I get paid on Friday".

HAHAHAHA!

Lest I sound cold hearted I must explain that 2 weeks ago, S came around and whined about how hard it is to make ends meet working at Target.  He just doesn't make enough money.  He left his bills here, lying on the floor instead of taking them with him and they indicate that the bank has closed his account and he owes them 96 dollars for an overdraft.  He owes Progressive for car insurance, the last installment, and so he is driving around without car insurance.  He also owes his landlord 500 dollars for the month's rent.  I'm not a math genius but his pay stubs indicate he makes roughly 1200 dollars a month-if he bothers to work all the available hours.

A day after these financial revelations, he texted me to tell me he had stuff stolen out of his car.  The driver's side window wouldn't roll up.  He chose not to put it up and leave it up because he has to be able to smoke, doesn't he?  So he left his car in the parking lot at work with the window rolled down. 

Texting is a tricky thing.  Sometimes you text someone something not intended for them and poor old S texted his mom something intended for his friend:  All my pot and my grinder bowl and my gun got stolen.

Come on, Ma.  How many times are you going to let him convince you that this time he's figured it out and he's really trying hard to get it together and by the way could you help me out? 

One less time, anyway.   He wanted me to pay to have his phone turned back on and he would pay me back on Friday.  And I said  "No."   I need 45 dollars.  Now.   Turns out he had 46, but paying by phone has a two dollar charge.  I told him he should go to the CricKet store and pay.  They only take cash and there's no fee and they return your service within 30 minutes.  He snatched up his money, huffed out and slammed the door.

While I was away for the weekend last week, S came to the house and hung around with his dad.  S showed him a budget that said he made about 600 dollars a month.  So his dad payed to fix his window and told him that he'd pay his car insurance.  I gave my husband my information:  I've seen his pay stubs and he makes more than that.  My husband said not to worry that he had left the assistance up to S.  He has to contact the bank and get his fine paid so he has a way to pay his bills when he can't use cash and he has to contact Progressive and find out how much it'll cost to get his car insurance reinstated.  Then he has to come to his dad and let him know that he's taken care of it and how much it's going to be.   And guess what:  He hasn't done it. 

The boy's a real winner.

FibroWHAT?

So now I have muscle and joint pain that my doctor, very sweetly and calmly, explained to me is most likely fibromyalgia.   She ordered some blood tests  just to make sure it isn't anything else and assured me repeatedly that fibromyalgia can be treated and managed.

I looked up fibromyalgia on the internet.  It apparently is the diagnoses you get when the docs can't find anything else causing your symptoms.  I, on the other hand, think that I know what is causing my symptoms:  my son who is driving around without car insurance, smoking pot and refusing to grow up; my daughter who is freaking out about auditioning and her future and what to do with her boyfriend; my oldest son who rejects God and wants to be in comedy and is living in LA with no job; and my husband who needs constant tlc.  All add up to not only literal pains in the neck but pains in the feet and legs, too.