Too scared of what you’d think. Too ashamed of who I was. Too proud to let you down.
I’m sorry, Mom, for not appreciating you more …
I’m sorry for not realizing all the pain and struggle you went through, but still kept a smile.
I guess that’s where I get it from.
I’m sorry for, sometimes, thinking you were weaker than you actually were. I know now that you were the strongest woman I ever knew, and happy that I was able to tell you this.
I’m sorry that I didn’t value you the way a child should value their mother … the way YOUR child should … you only get one mama.
I’m sorry it has taken me being a parent to see this … feel this … but most importantly … Understand this!
SHOULDA … WOULDA … COULDA.
We’ve all been there.
I shoulda said this. If I had more time, I woulda done that. I coulda told you whatever, but I didn’t.
Too scared of what you’d think. Too ashamed of who I was. Too proud to let you down.
People, the average person, may wonder, “what is this, that and whatever…” Be patient … This, that and whatever will slowly come to be … the moment I decide to set them free.
A whirlwind of emotion … some too great to relive, some too small to ever forget …
People talk of memories … My memory haunts me with a childhood of decent quality … Yet my soul hasn’t forgotten the pain that has defined me.
I’m so sorry, MOM … for not seeing … for not knowing.
You were a total magician with that “wand” of yours. Was your power so great that it blinded me to believe you were perfect? Then when you weren’t, it baffled me … Where are my magical powers?! Am I not worthy to carry the “wand”?
At times, my own children, whom I would DIE for, have disrespected me … What have I done that I can’t seem to find my own damn “magic wand” to “bippity boppity boo”, and dare I say … make their world perfect?!
BLAH!! Perfect is boring … but “perfect” for them … What am I missing? I’m honest. I communicate. I give GREAT advice, and wisdom, through my own wrong doings, or at least I try.
I’m sorry, Mom, that we didn’t have more time for these questions to be answered …
I wasn’t done needing you!!!
I feel your presence, daily, and for THAT, I am NOT sorry … I am grateful.
We have a bond that could never be broken … even death isn’t keeping us apart. But how I yearn to hear your voice … feel your touch … this … that … whatever … just …
… one … more … time.
My heart broke a terrible break the moment you took your last breath …
06/22/2018 at 1:20pm
I lost more than “just” my mother.
I lost the ONE person whom had ALWAYS been there for me.
I lost the ONE person whom always knew how to make everything “not so bad”.
I lost the ONE person whom always believed in me, encouraged me.
In that moment, I felt I had lost EVERYTHING.
What I gained was … more patience … compassion … empathy … INTUITION …
my guardian angel.
It has taken almost three years for me to realize what I’ve gained, by losing the one person whom I never thought I could live without ….
Don’t be me … realize your worth … realize you can do anything you put your mind to. Realize that while it’s great to have the best support system, ever … there will come a day when all you can depend on is yourself. Take my advice, and …
Know your worth.
“I hope you know I did my best, while still believing that ONE DAY he would stay sober.”
An open letter to my two adult children & those that may need to hear these words …
I’m soooo sorry you have just suffered the loss of your father, at such a young age. It’s not fair to you. Even though you may have felt prepared for this moment, you’re never, ever really prepared … and that is a fact.
I’m sorry that you never really got to know the man that he “could have been” … You had glimpses, and because of those glimpses, you both had HOPE! We all did.
I’m so sorry that your hearts have, yet again, been broken by by the man you yearn to call “Daddy” … but I CAN promise you, it was the last time.
I don’t want to dwell on bad times. Anyone who has dealt with addiction, knows the dark and dirty it can do to someone. I need you both to know that I am SO PROUD of who the two of you are turning out to be … You are both smart, funny, loving … You are growing into fine, KIND HUMANS, and that was, and is, my only goal for you as people of this world … With all that both of you have been through, I’m grateful that you have chosen paths to better yourselves. It’s easy to fall, and make bad choices when you have every reason to, but it takes courage and strength to stand and power through all the bull shit neither of you deserved, and come out so much better, and happier, on the other side. This is officially the end of the chapter in your lives, that I tried so hard, as your mother, to protect you from. I hope you know I did my best, while still believing that ONE DAY he would stay sober.
That being said …
Let me tell you a story …
Back in 1997, when I married your dad, we had great dreams of having children, owning a home, having pets … that white picket fence … and for a very short time, we did.
You guys were babies when he and I separated, and ultimately divorced … I have about six years of great memories with him …
The way he courted me back in 1995, it was like I was the only female in the world … he really knew how to make me feel special … he would open the door for me … always … even the car door … always … he was charismatic, good looking and just an all around fun guy to be around. There was no greater love in my eyes, at that time. I was head over heels! No one could tell me ANYTHING! I remember the first time I saw him … it was a bright, sunshiny day in July. We were both attending Dover Business College. My friend Sylvia, and I were walking back to class from our break, and your father and his buddy, Dave (Donato), were walking towards us … we totally made eye contact, smiled at each other … and I said to my friend … “I’m gonna marry that boy!” … and I did.
Our relationship was special. I know that many people may never understand what it was I saw in him … but I do. This was way before his addiction. We never fought … until much later on, but that was because of his addictions … it wasn’t who he was. He was kind and gentle, like you Seany. He was actually the type of person who would give you his shirt off his back, if it meant the other person had something to wear, like you, Morgan. I’m not here to glorify him, but I am here to give you a better understanding of the man he “could have been”, and the understanding of why I chose him to be my husband, and your father.
I know you both have your own memories that you will hold on to for the rest of your life. I’m so happy that you have a few decent ones to stick your claws into, and never, ever let them go. One day you’ll be able to forgive him for the hurt and angst that he has caused the both of you, and you’ll smile when you remember the corny, goofy guy he was.
Again, I’m not here to defend the man who once, almost, destroyed me … but I am here to tell you both,
THANK YOU …
Thank you for being the reasons I always got up in the morning … there were many that I would have rather stayed in bed …
Thank you for being the reasons I vowed to be the best mom to you both …
Thank you for being the reasons I worked so hard as a single mom to give you both everything you needed, wanted and more.
But most importantly … Thank you for loving me through all my faults. Everything I have done since you’ve been born, has been for you both.
Life happens and people change, but I hope you know that your father loved you both so much. The problem wasn’t YOU … the problem was that he didn’t love himself enough to change his addiction. Although you have lived through some pretty tumultuous times … the good, most definitely, outweighs the bad … hold on to every silver lining you can … because all you have now are your memories … I hope they make you smile, and not sad. Just know that he is no longer suffering … he really loved you guys the best way he knew how.
To my ex husband, Sean Michael … Thank you for giving me 2 of my greatest treasures in this world. Without you, I wouldn’t have them. I hope you know that I was always there for you, even when you didn’t deserve me to. I went to bat for you more than I ever should have, because like I said before … we all had glimpses of the man you could’ve been, so I had faith and hope. I’m sorry that you couldn’t fight the demons without some type of substance in your body. I wish, for our children, that you could have won, and been there to see weddings, grand babies, graduations, and just so much more … but I know you’ll be watching from above … please protect your children … all of them.
Again, To my children … Know that I love you more than I can ever convey in words. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what, and I feel that your father wanted to be, he just couldn’t.
To Desiree, Eva and Jeffrey … No matter where our paths have lead us and where they will lead us … we all have a bond that no one will ever understand, unless they have lived this nightmare. I don’t take for granted the special memories we do have. They will forever remain in my heart, always.
Lastly … To my husband … YOU … are my rock. YOU … are the one who taught me to think with my head, and not my heart, and I’ll forever be grateful to you for that. You have never let me, or our family down, and we are all grateful to have you in our lives, but most importantly in our hearts. My only regret is that we didn’t reconnect sooner, so we could be together that much longer. I love you, always, forever.
I hope someone finds peace in my words.
I love you all!
RIP Sean Michael Gill … I truly hope you are at peace.
” … week 1 and week 2 … AWESOME. Amazing, actually. Rock Star Parenting, at its finest. We had a schedule. We did electives. Structure. IT WAS REALLY FUN!”
I want to openly speak here for a minute … While I try to write on the regular, I seldom post my work on WordPress, and honestly, I’m not sure why. When quarantine first happened, I made a resolution to myself … I was SO, 100% SURE, I was going to organize this, and organize that … I was SO, 100% SURE, I was going to start posting on here again. I was so 100%, sure. I mean, I had two weeks to get shit done. Time that I always complained, I never had. EVER!
I was GREAT, week 1 and week 2, probably 1/2 of week 3, it’s all a blur. I organized the hell outta my downstairs. My living space was finally livable again. Immaculate. But for the LOVE OF GOD … LIFE happens, and when you are now back to preparing (or, at the very least, SUPPOSED to prepare) all three meals, for all three kids, sometimes 4, plus two adults who are trying their DAMNEST to stay on Keto … it becomes a little overwhelming … quite overwhelming, actually. Being able to eat out several nights a week, was very important to this busy go go family.
And, for F’s sakes people … Let’s not forget that we are now teachers, in the literal aspect, to our children. It’s okay … throw any challenge at me and I will try to prevail, and if I don’t, I will go down my hardest, trying. Again … week 1 and week 2 … AWESOME. Amazing, actually. Rock Star Parenting, at its finest. We had a schedule. We did electives. Structure. IT WAS REALLY FUN! Two weeks, right?! We were supposed to be “locked down” … “in quarantine” … for FOURTEEN DAYS!
THAT, is tolerable.
Week 3, week 4, 5, 6 … It became old, real fast. Every. Fucking. Meal. That’s, a lot! Trying to maintain our living space, that I worked so hard at organizing in the beginning, is like trying to vacuum with no bag. Shit. Goes. Everywhere. The End. It’s near impossible to TRY and keep up with my 10 year old. I bow down to the parents that have littles at home, special needs, more than 1 … I pray for you, EVERY DAY! I pray for us all. We all have our things.
Speaking of which … Have I mentioned how much I miss my job?! It, literally, tears at my soul that I am not working with the kids I did. I miss them all. I miss my girl. The kids at school. My friends at work. Marissa misses her friends. Physical contact with other beings, other than those that live in this house. Oh that’s right … Thing 1 has returned home?! It’s okay … the more the merrier, in my opinion, especially during these times. I’m better than okay with it, for I also know, it won’t be forever. Thing 2 is already planning her escape next year … Meanwhile, poor Marissa … STUCK, for at leastEIGHT more years!! Insert evil laugh.
I’m seriously ADHD. I get so bored, so fast. I want to do what I want, when I want … I don’t want to organize because that’s what I’m “supposed to be doing” … I want to organize because I want to organize. Having all these “beings” at home, at the same time … all on top of each other, nowhere to go … except 100 Living Room Way, or 55 Kitchen Island … hang a left to the Potty Oasis, where the motto is … “If you sprinkle when you tinkle, please be neat and wipe the seat … or your mother will hunt you down”, is NOT the ideal situation to start organizing your life. So what happens next, is mind blowing, to me.
Weeks 7 – 10 … Ten weeks … Seventy-something days, we have finally found a “new way” in this “quarantine world”. My youngest has a new routine, a new schedule. Her teachers are fabulous, she is fabulous. She doesn’t need me as much as she did in the beginning, and where I may be a little sad about it, it’s a testament to her awesome teachers for being, well … AWESOME, and for Marissa being equally as awesome, as well. We miss everyone, but we have begun to “re-learn” each other, if you will. That’s the best way I can describe it. When every day is a constant, go go go, you tend to lose sight of what’s really important. FAMILY is what is MOST important, in my opinion, and as much as you go go go FOR your family, the best you can give them, is just by being there with them.
I call my middle child, the perfect child … well, everything except her damn mouth (not sure where she gets that from <insert evil laugh>) … she typically doesn’t know when to STFU. That’s just a cold hard, FACT! I sometimes feel, that she feels neglected. Don’t worry, she’s totally not … it’s just that “self-entitled” mentality that generation seems to have. She knows she is loved. It’s a huge reminder that it SO matters how you raise your children. YOU are responsible for molding the little creature you created, into a responsible product of society. However, you can only lead a horse to water, you cannot make them drink. I feel that being forced to be home, and not on the go, 1000% of the time, has really made a difference, in how that generation of children think. At least I see the difference in my very stubborn, almost 19 year old, daughter.
We are social beings, by nature. It’s okay to miss our friends, what was our old norm … but it’s so beautiful to see a new norm transpiring. It’s like the metamorphosis of a butterfly … starts out cute, goes through some “things“, makes a mess, secludes itself, and comes out this magnificent creature, on the other side.
That’s how I feel with my family.
Having a blended family is hard. I am NOT here to sugar coat ANYTHING! It hasn’t always been unicorns and rainbows, but we have always prevailed. ALWAYS! Getting thrown into a relationship, neither one was really prepared for, but both were completely committed to, had its share of challenges, to say the least. Yes, we have battle wounds, and yes, we have scars, but YES, we have so manyMORE sublime memories, which thoroughly out weigh any negative there has ever been, ever. This “new norm” we have been faced with, is a beautiful reminder that family, is all we really need to survive, and thrive, in this crazy world, which we are ALL blessed to live.
Even my husband has been a little more helpful / playful, around the house … a little. Let’s be real, he has (or had) the thought process of, I work and provide … you be mom / wife / maid. He had this … Me Dick. You Jane, type mentality, but not really, any more. As a matter of fact, as I type this … outside my kitchen window, I hear my youngest, and my husband laughing, giggling, washing their bikes, together, chasing each other with the water hose.
“Fun Fact”: That wouldn’t be happening any other week night. That’s for damn sure. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t even be home yet.
I guess the point I’m getting at … I don’t know what I want more … Life as it was, or life as it could be. Sure, I miss my friends … but do they miss me as much as I miss them? Maybe. It’s the life we were used to! For the first time, in a long time, I feel like people don’t care what others are doing. I never really did, anyhow. I’ve always cherished the life I have. I know how delicate life can be, or is. I know the struggles of every day life. I have lived them, more than once. I’m up for any challenge that is thrown at me … but I feel like it’s 1985 again … ya know, minus the technology part of the decade, that’s just added bonus at this point. I feel like,LIFEis simple again. Family is what is most important. Yes, while friends play a very important socialization role in all our lives, and I miss mine terribly … BUT, if I’m being honest … I’m still okay with being home, in “quarantine”, with my loves. I almost feel like a hypocrite, because I post on how I want shit to go back to “normal”, but I think I’m all right with this new normal. For the love of God, just don’t take away my lake this summer, and no one will get harmed! Ha!
Another thought … I’m almost afraid that when life does go back, I may be sad. I will miss my husband being here ALLTHETIME, when at the beginning, quite frankly, that scared the crap outta me. I’m afraid that all the conversations I’m having with my children, will go away … again. I say again, because when you are at a certain stage with your children, you are driving them EVERYWHERE. Those car ride coversations … ahhh, there really is nothing like them. Once they get their license, they are driving themselves … All those little, but more than meaningful conversations, went away. Now that we have all been back together, it’s been wonderful having those conversations again. Having my son’s sweet, handsome face in my presence when he comes home from work, (yes … he is essential) has just been the light of my life.
Maybe I’m just getting older. Feeling nostalgic. Feeling the burn of kids growing too fast. I needed to get these thoughts out on to paper. I need for people to believe that everything will be okay. It’s up to YOU to decide your future. How you roll with your own friends and family. I’m not here to judge anyone. I’ve never been that person, anyhow. You do you! I’m ready to start our new normal. I’m ready to hang around people again, in small doses, of course, but what I’m most ready for, and excited about, (and I promise you, this has been a long time coming), I’m ready to dedicate myself, a million percent, to making sure my kids feel the love they deserve. There is nothing greater than feeling loved and appreciated. I know that I’m already that person, but having lost, THE MOST IMPORTANT person in my life, almost two years ago, I haven’t really been the best version of me, that I know I AM! I know this. I accept this, and with this blog, comes the “new, OLD me“.
I have a child that has been driving for almost 2 years, a boy. I also have another child with a permit, and will get a driver’s license in July, a girl. She always wants to drive, and I get it … I was 16 once upon a time, too. She’s a very good driver … Actually, she’s such a good driver, that she “kindly” tells me how to drive, at times … yeah, it’s impressive! <insert heavy eye roll>. That being said, why do I have such a hard time handing her the keys, and just letting her drive?! Things would be a lot less “yelly”, if I just gave her the keys, every single time we have a place to go, but I don’t … and if I’m being honest, I won’t. Because after a lot of soul-searching, I have come to the conclusion, that since I cannot control the hands of time, I can control whose hands the keys land in. She has the rest of her life to drive, I only have three months left to be her chauffeur, before getting a car of her own, and ONLY a little over a year, before she graduates high school, and starts her own life. I know it sounds dumb … I know she should be practicing … and she does, just not as much as she wants. Once she has a car of her own, and the “freedom” to come and go, I’m pretty sure she’ll go, more than she comes, and I’m okay with that, at that point in time. I am the person who likes to celebrate growth and milestones, and very much looks forward to a reason to celebrate my children. I try to not be overly sentimental, however, it’s a different set of emotions, that is so unexplainable to parents who haven’t been here yet. Knowing that the time is coming for my older two children to spread their wings and fly, is a lot to handle. As much as parents “look forward” to empty-nesting, it’s a wee bit scary for this mama. I feel secure in how we’ve raised our children, to be great products of society, but have I really done enough?! Will my “life lessons” resonate with them … Will they remember my words when it’s time to make an important decision?! Oh my goodness … Have I done enough?! It’s a scary reality knowing that your kids will be on their own, making grown up decisions, making mistakes, hopefully learning from those mistakes, and growing from them. My daughter has this false sense of reality, that as long as you’re doing the right thing, everything is peachy keen. In a sense, yes it could be, but you never know what bumps in the road could arise, what crazy forks in the road you will come in contact with, and have to make a decision … LEFT or RIGHT?! Have I done enough, have I said enough, have I taught them enough?! At the end of the day, and in my defense (wink wink) … I know she’ll be okay … I have been in the car with her enough, to know that she will be just fine. She thinks she neeeeeds to practice, I know that even with all the practice in the world, it doesn’t stop all the assholes that ARE on the road, and as long as she’s paying attention and doing the right thing, she will be fine.
For now, I’m holding on to the little girl who never wanted to leave my side … the little girl who couldn’t let me leave the house without her being in tow … the little girl that I have a bond with that no one can touch … the little girl who used to sleep in my bed … the little girl who looked at her mama with those green eyes …
… the little girl that I am just having a hard time, letting go!!
It’s the little things, that make a huge difference …
Sometimes you win, and sometimes you lose, right?! Right. My “conventional marriage”, was finalized in divorce, at some point in Early 2004. We brought another child into our marriage in July of 2001 … my only full-term baby (that’s right, in 2010, I had another premature child, 6 1/2 weeks early), and even she wanted to be born six weeks early, but doctors were able to stop my contractions .. with a little bed rest, I was able to hold her in until 39 weeks … July 2, 2001, it’s a girl … 6 pounds, 6 ounces, at 6 am … Hmmm … you said a girl, right?! Not the devil?! (Again, I joke … sorta)
My ex-husband started cheating on me in November of 2000 … That’s right … You do the math! Yet, I still fought for what I thought was mine … I lost, but eventually, when I realized he got another person pregnant, I won. I won my freedom from him, back … I no longer had feels for him the way a wife should have for her husband … Soooo …
In January, 2003, I moved my children and I to Hickory, NC. I was no longer a wife. I had a new title: Single mom … with nowhere to go. My mom, and my brother lived there, so it made sense. We spent about 6 years there. I have nothing, but wonderful memories, and few close friends that will be cherished forever. I do believe it was when my older two kids were happiest in life, if I’m being 1,000% honest with myself. It’s also where, for four years, twice a year, my son was injected with botox injections, in both legs, and then casted (to stretch the tendons in his calves and ankles) for 6 weeks, each time. Even though his cerebral palsy only affects the right side of his body, the doctors felt that doing it to both legs, at his age, would give him an “even” feeling. Along with the botox, came extensive, intensive, physical and occupational therapies, 2 – 3 times per week, during these four years, and beyond. I could sit here and list the numerous procedures and therapies my son has had to endure, but I can’t remember them all. There have literally been hundreds, and if anything, I’m under-estimating!
Single mom, 2 kids … my world … not such a bad title to hold.
I seem to have forgotten to mention what exactly caused my son to develop cerebral palsy (CP) … At birth, he suffered a Grade III, out of IV, bleed, on the left side of his brain, affecting the right side of his body. In other words, he had a stroke. Given too much oxygen at birth? Maybe. However, for all the things that SHOULD be wrong with him, he is truly blessed, and a FUCKING MIRACLE!! Through the years, I have seen many kids born at 26, 27, 32 weeks. I have also seen many born at full term, with cerebral palsy, requiring a wheelchair, having no speech or any motor skills … I KNOW HOW LUCKY WE ARE!!! It’s trying to teach a kid with a severe disability, just HOW LUCKY HE IS!! Even though I have ingrained, in my son’s brain, that CAN’T isn’t in his vocabulary, I still struggle with showing him that he fucking CAN!!
He can do anything he wants in life … He may have to work a little harder, but he FUCKING CAN! (He’s almost 19, so I don’t feel bad swearing at this point).
In 2008, I decided that my ex-husband needed to be in our kids lives more. So what does every sane, normal person do?! Oh … I upped, and moved back home to New Jersey, in August. This whole section of life, is a whole other blog! wink wink!
August 2009 … Children’s Hospital Of Philadelphia (aka CHOP) …
My son had some testing done at CHOP, to decipher exactly what could be done, surgically, to help aid him in his growing years. You see, it was these tests that clued us in that his right hip was growing in, instead of straight, causing his right leg to be extra tight, shorter than his left leg, and caused him to tippy toe his right foot for many years, walking with an EXTREME limp. What brought me to this point, as his mother?
Mean people! Cruel fucking humans.
Earlier that year, in the Spring, my son wanted to play baseball … a great little athlete, he was (is) … even with his “gimpy limp”. He had (has) an arm on him, like you wouldn’t believe. It’s a damn shame that some people have to be complete, fucking assholes their whole life, and a mother, at that. Being that we were new in town … No one knew that I was his mom. I was so proud of my kid for joining a team, where he hardly knew anyone. The kids were pretty accepting of him … 3rd graders are still sweet! The first time my son was up to bat, he hit the ball … AWESOME! … and as he ran to first base … Cheering him on, I overheard another mom question who my son was … (in my best snotty voice) “Whoooo is that kid?! Isn’t he considered a liability?!”.
NOW, in my best Mama Bear voice, “I’m sorry … WHAT?! BITCH! … THAT is MY kid … He is NOT a liability … he is a fucking miracle, with a heart of gold, and a smile that would melt your cold ass heart! He has cerebral palsy, and has EVERY right to be here, just as much as your perfect little liability, er … son does!”. ((GTFOH!!))
Can you believe the audacity of some people?!
September 21, 2009 … Morristown Memorial Hospital … Surgery Day!
Look at that sweet, sweet face! How could you not fall in love with this kid?! His big brown eyes, super long eyelashes, and a smile that just makes everything okay in the world! Side note: I love his smile so much!!
THIS … was the scariest day of my life. My baby boy was about to endure EIGHT procedures, in EIGHT hours, and while my memory fails me to know the exact terms of each procedure, I can give you the synopsis … Basically, the doctors had to break his hip, rotate it out, put a temporary plate in (which was removed a year later, during another surgery), while it fuses back together, along with lengthening his groin muscle, heel-cord surgery, stunting the growth in his left leg, so his right leg can play catch-up (those tools were called 8 plates, and they too, were also removed, in a separate procedure, once his left leg caught up, about 2 years later) … that’s five … the other three things were minimal. He was supposed to come out of surgery in a body cast, for 6 weeks. It was a last-minute decision, by the orthopedic doctor, to NOT cast his body … Because he knew my son, and he knew it would only hinder his recovery … and he was CORRECT!!
Again … Look at that face … all drugged up, and still has a smile for his mama! GOD, I LOVE THIS KID! So, now that we have gotten through the surgical aspect, now starts the long road to recovery … A full year recovery, and then some. He had to learn how to walk again. “It’ll be a good 12 weeks, before he’s ready to start to walk,” Dr. Rieger said, “However, I decided to not body cast him, in hopes that he may walk sooner.”
And that he did! He walked 6 weeks before he was even supposed to start trying! “YOU ARE FREAKING AMAZING!”, I would tell him time and time again. “There isn’t anything, YOU CAN’T DO!”, would roll off my tongue, over and over. We went through a full year of physical therapy, and unless you knew he had CP, you would never know it. Mission accomplished!
Fast forward to sixth grade … Ahhhhh Middle School!! Difficult transitions to get used to. You’re expected to do more for yourself in school, change classes, etc. When Sean started middle school, we lived in a neighboring town, to where we live now. After the first marking period, his teachers were all telling me that he needed extra help, or maybe he was a resource kid … a kid who needed help in every aspect of school.
WHAT are you people telling me?! I have NEVER had a problem with his schooling, except in 4th grade, but that’s when he had his big surgery, and got a little behind. He was totally fine in 5th grade, when his lowest grade was ONE C, the whole year?! I literally left there in TEARS!! Who the hell wants to hear that their kid is resource material?! NO ONE, but here we were! Because of his cerebral palsy, he was always being tested, and was always “over testing”. They could never find any learning disabilities … EVER!
Other circumstances in my life, caused us to move from that town, to the one I live in now, allowing my son to change schools in the middle of 6th grade. He did okay that year. Seventh grade, we struggled with some bullying and grades … Of course, I thought it was the bullying that was causing his struggle with academics. WRONG! In 8th grade, yes EIGHTH grade … it was his Math teacher, who finally “heard” what he was trying to say. Long story, short, it was found that he had a terrible processing speed. So things that should normally take you a few seconds to answer, would take him a minute or two … or longer … therefore resulting in a documented learning disability. The poor kid was struggling for years, but didn’t manifest, until he had to do things for himself … such as MIDDLE SCHOOL!! I felt like the worst parent ever … for pushing him so hard to do better. His step-father and I really didn’t accept anything, but his best!! To our credit, every teacher, and counselor has told us that if it weren’t for our “push”, he wouldn’t be where he was at that point.
The very first day of 8th grade, he had broken his “bad” leg, in two places, from a little spill on his dirt bike … Here we go again … Getting behind in school, and MONTHS of physical therapy. I remember when Erica, his therapist, asked me what my goal was for him … without hesitation, I said, “I would like to see him run … properly.”
It’s the little things in life, that people without any type of disability take for granted. I had never seen my son run with both arms at his side, pumping back and forth. Instead, the left side worked “properly”, while his right side flailed in the wind. Although cute, he was about to enter the next four years of his life, in high school …
It’s the little things, that make a huge difference, and the day came …
December 18, 2013 … Drayer Physical Therapy, Sparta, NJ
I saw my son run, like a person without CP, for the first time in his life … LIKE A BOSS!
Tears roll down my face, and I’m reminded, we’ve already come so far.
April 24, 1999 … 7:15 am … Trying to place an epidural, in a spine, on a body that has gained over twenty pounds of water weight in less than three weeks, is proving to be near impossible. I was “stuck” in the back about five or six times, before the anesthesiologist said,
“If I can’t get it this time, we’re gonna have to put you under, and do the c-section while you sleep.”
“Ummm … there is a chance that my son won’t live … You WILL get it this time, because I want to see him alive, even if only for a minute!” (Wow! Look at me! Haven’t even met my son, and I’m already a Mama Bear!) With that, the epidural was inserted properly, and within minutes, the doctor who delivered my son, Dr. Yvonne Thornton, entered the room, and said …
“Now, please remember, that his lungs are just now developing. You will probably not hear him cry, when he is born. This is normal. We were only able to give you one steroid shot to help his lungs, versus the two shots, that you would normally get. We are running out of time … for you, but I assure you (in her most sympathetic voice), even though you probably won’t hear him cry, technology has come so far …”
She continued on, but that’s all I really heard … Technology?! WTF does technology have to do with MY SON, and his premature lungs … Actually, I remember a nurse saying that he was so early, that it wasn’t even considered premature, but rather … immature. HA! A title he still holds dearly, to this day!! (I joke … sorta)
April 24, 1999 … 8:54 am … I heard the sweetest little “Wahh!”, that I have ever heard in my entire life! “It’s a boy … One pound, nine ounces, 12 1/2 inches long, apparently with a better set of lungs, than we anticipated!”
I will never forget that sound. I have it on lock down in the memory banks of my heart, and my brain … I will never forget his first, tiniest of whimpers, and the thoughts that scattered through my brain …
That’s my boy!
Stronger than even the doctors thought!
A fighter from birth.
Strength you didn’t know you had.
YOU HAVE PURPOSE!
You got this, kiddo!
I will never leave your side … EVER!
THAT, is my promise to you.
July 30th, 2000 ~ One year “corrected” age ~ When you have a child that is born three months early, you learn a lot of new jargon that you’ve never heard before. You also become super acclimated to the NICU, and you start to believe that you could be a nurse, with all that you have learned. Especially when your child is there for 12 weeks. Today’s word is “corrected age”. He’s 9 months old, 6 months, corrected age. For ONE YEAR, and three months, I had to use this term. It was frustrating. Unless you know, you DON’T know. To the mom who has her babies when they’re supposed to be born, it may sound silly to you, that I complain about this … It seems minimal, in the grand scheme of life, however … it’s ANNOYING … just another way to point out that my kid is different from yours … like I said … ANNOYING, and perhaps, dare I say “judgey”?! The only positive, is that if someone overheard me saying “corrected age”, it brought on the conversation, and I was happy to talk about it. Knowledge is power, right?! Getting back to my point … In August of 2000, I had to bring my son for a developmental check up. I had noticed that he was favoring one side of his body, over the other. When he crawled, at nine months, he would over use his left side, like an army crawl, but the left side did the majority of the work. After a three-hour evaluation, the results were in …
“Your son has a condition called Hemiparesis, which affects his right side.”
Have you said this before, or maybe heard someone else say it? Well, for me, it’s pretty much true. I like everyone (I’m working on this, as it is a legitimate problem). However, why not like everyone? I mean, don’t get me wrong … There are the few people who have rubbed me the wrong way upon meeting them, but I always give it a chance. I mean, what has a “new person” in my life, ever done to me, to warrant me not liking them?!
That would be a big, fat NOTHING.
It doesn’t mean I need them to be my best friend for life (I have one of those), it just means that I give everyone a chance. I do NOT listen to what “Susie May” has to say about “Mary Margaret’s” kids being a real pain in the ass. I make my own decisions about people (and their kids), based on how they treat myself, my kids, and their own kids and family. I do NOT listen to what other people have to say about “Joe Schmoe” down the road, who never mows his lawn (maybe Joe Schmoe is dealing with something that can’t be seen by naked eye), or whatever crazy things people like to conjure up, just to make their own miserable lives, a little more bearable.
WHAT did she say?!
You heard me … It’s fucking true! People tear down other people, because they are not happy in their own person. They want everyone else around them to be equally miserable. Why?!
Well … Misery LOVES company!
We’ve all heard that statement before … But why? Although the person may not come off as “miserable” … You can hear it in every word they speak … They complain about themselves, their significant other, their kids, their job, their boss, their diet, other people (my favorite … NOT), the fact that the sky is blue … the list is endless. So, if misery loves company, and no one wants to be labeled as miserable, why is it so hard to just be happy (or at least fake it … kidding … kind of)?! Why not look at what’s positive in your life, rather than what’s negative … WHY is this so hard?!
I don’t know, but this brings me to another point …
What is it about that one person who seems to love to “drive” people in other directions (sometimes without the other person even realizing what’s happening), rather than the direction they were already “driving”?! Who’s to blame … the person doing the driving, or the person listening to the driver?! ((ohhhh the things that make you go hmmmm))
What is it about that one person who will do anything to make someone feel like they don’t belong … if that person hasn’t done anything to deserve it? Again, who’s to blame, the person doing the insulting, or the other person not standing up for themselves, and asking the questions that need to be answered … “WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU?”.
It’s frustrating. It’s lonely. It’s sad.
See … when you’re the person who feels left out (and I have been, plenty of times), you take a chance on asking what’s up. The chance being … honesty. You may throw hints here and there to your peers, hoping to get answers, but when you’re made to feel like “it’s all in your head” (when you know damn well that it’s NOT) … you stop asking. You stop trusting. You just move forward, wondering what you’ve done so terrible, to be treated so unkindly, when all you really want … is to just be friends.
Honesty IS the best policy!
Is it?! People say that honesty is the best policy … I believe it, but so is communication. However, there are times when communication has been met, without the honest answers. So, how are you supposed to deal with the situation, if you can’t get honest answers, even from the person in question?!
You have to make the realistic decision, and accept that you can’t make everyone happy, so don’t even try. You will only drive yourself insane. So, you smile, you’re cordial, but most of all you’re kind.
Kill ’em with Kindness!
Kindness will never get you hurt. It feels so good to be kind. It feels so good to give. It feels so good to be a decent human being … So why are there so many miserable people in the world?! Maybe they aren’t “miserable” … maybe they are jelly … not grape or strawberry, but legitimately …
JEALOUS! (oh no she didn’t)
Oh YES she did!!! They are jealous. Jealous?! Yes. Jealous. Say the word JEALOUS, five times in a row … It sounds silly, right? However, if you listen … by the 5th time, it sounds like “Gel-US” … Gel us together, and knock out the jealousy!!! (Ahhhh, perhaps another movement I would love to create?!)
If I were in a situation like this, I would say … “JEALOUS OF WHAT?!!? I’m overweight, my house is a “mess”, I live each day to please the ungrateful twits I call my kids, and my husband … not that he’s ungrateful, but I do live to please him too, I’m lucky if I shower daily, and I mean LUCKY, I don’t get paid for my “job”, I’m insecure … shall I go on?!”.
Being jealous of anyone, or anything, is silly, actually. There are so many directions I could go with this, but let’s start here … People tend to create a facade, if you will, of what their lives are, especially in this day of social media. People tend to post about all the “good” in their lives. No one really posts about how crappy of a day they are having, or how much they can’t stand their kid (at the moment) … well, unless they are the type that posts about every single detail of their lives, (yes, you know who you are, maybe not lol) … but for the most part, people are showing their kids on their GOOD days, posts of loved ones that might be ill, needing some comfort, but still not awful, vacations, etc.. We, as a society, scroll through Facebook, Instagram, etc, as if we’ve been doing it our whole lives (umm, you’re doing it now! lol). It’s crazy to think how the impact of social media, truly makes us feel. Let’s be honest … if people don’t acknowledge that they’ve seen your post, with a ‘LIKE’, you may get mad … or, at the very least, a little upset.
I’m sure there are millions of other people who feel this same way. So how do we change this? What can be done different?
When you find out … please let me know!
I’m being facetious … sort of … I would LOVE feedback on this issue. For now, my advice is this … Support and Kindness. Give support, and be kind to everyone in your life. No matter how big or small. Be supportive of your girlfriend, whose husband just lost his job. Be kind to the cashier, who couldn’t muster up a smile, because her family is in dire straits, and she had to quit school to get a job, to help her family. Hell, just being kind to the person who isn’t so kind to you, truly does makes a difference, if not to them, definitely to you.
So bottom line is this … We do not know what goes on behind closed doors. We do not know the reasons why some people are miserable in their own skin. We, as a world, need to be a little more nice … a little more friendly … supportive … positive … and see how much different the world looks. It’s pretty amazing!
Peace, love and happiness to you all!
(even the haters!)
Do you know what it’s like to be me
Happy, easy-going, loving, carefree
Your vision of my face
You can clearly see
I’m smiling, I’m joyful
I’m bursting with glee
PLEASE … Do not be mistaken
While I smile for you
Inside, my heart is breaking
Broken … shattered, really
Somehow I’ve failed you, my son
Somehow I’ve failed you
My number one
Tell me what it is that
I haven’t done
You see, in my head
We’ve already won
From where you were
To where you are
Do you even realize
You’ve come so far
Dig deep, my son
For you will see
That pushing yourself
Will set you free
Can’t is a word
You’ve always been told
To eliminate from your mind
No matter how old
Remember the time
You knew how to walk
Then surgery stole it
We sat, and we talked
“Mommy, oh Mommy
This isn’t fair
Why did God create me
Just to make me wear
Braces on my legs
I’ve been casted too
Procedure after procedure
Please tell me it’s true
I’ll walk again, Mommy
Maybe one day soon
Tell me I can, Mommy
Please sing me a tune”
From my heart they would come
Along with my song
I could hear him hum
My sweet young man
You have come so far
I wish you could see
Beyond every scar
That God makes no mistakes
You do have a purpose
For heavens sake
Never give up
My eldest son
Never give up
My number one