These are "The Babies", now 16 years old.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
...Happy Birthday from Mom.
Well, you made it! You're 16 today. Or you will be at 4:56 pm and 4:57 pm EST today. That's the time you were born on Thursday, January 26, 1995.
What a day that was. I remember it clearly. I had been in the hospital for a couple of weeks on complete bedrest due to preterm labor and a condition called HELLP Syndrome, which is a very serious, very dangerous (to mother and babies) complication of pregnancy which features dangerously high blood pressure, hemolysis (damaged red blood cells in the mother), elevated liver enzymes (damage to mother's liver), low platelets (mother's blood can't clot, which means she could blead to death), and serious serious fluid retention that made me gain 5lbs overnight sometimes. It's a really icky condition and you feel sicker than you've ever been in your life.
Every day the nurses got me up out of bed, weighed me, helped me bathe, and put me back in bed. I was having blood drawn every 4 hours to check all the levels that needed checking to make sure I wasn't getting too sick. We were trying to buy as much time as we could for you both to grow, because you weren't due until late March and it was only late January.
There was snow on the ground the day you were born. The doctor let me get up in a wheelchair to see it for 15 minutes. That was a big day. About mid-morning my doctor came in to see me and told me that it looked like today (January 26, 1995) was the day you would be born. At this point I was pretty fed up wth being pregnant, but I was seriously scared to death about you being born 8 weeks early. And I told him I'd changed my mind, I could wait for your due date. He told me that wasn't an option. That we had to get you both out pretty soon. The doctor told me it was time to find your Dad and get him to the hospital. I called your Dad and told him it was show time. It took him a while to finally get to the hospital--arriving around 3:30 or 4:00 pm.
We had a little girls name all picked out. She would be named for both our grandmothers. Funny thing was, we didn't know if we had a daughter. We only knew the gender of one of the babies...a boy. He had a middle name, but no first name. So, while we waited as the nurses prepared me for surgery, Dad and I went through the baby name book to finally find a name for our son. We never looked for another boy's name for "mystery baby", because we both felt sure the "mystery baby" was a girl. Thank goodness we were right!
So I leafed through the name book while your Dad paced and stressed out. He looked scared. Really scared. I thought he was going to puke or pass out. I've known your Dad almost 25 years, but I'd never seen him quite like this before. This was OMG scared!
My room was a gorgeous LDRP room...with hardwood floors and a jacuzzi in the bathroom (which only got to use one time, dadgummit). Your Dad was leaving bg black scuff marks on the floor with his dress shoes (he was still in his suit and tie from work). The nurses and I thought this was pretty funny. You could literally SEE the path he was busy wearing into the floor.
So I started tossing out first names to go with the middle name....Matthew...no, that would be two saints names, "too holy-rollerish". Andrew....again, two saints names--"too holy-rollerish". Ryan...no, "too girly" according to your Dad.
Finally, we settled on a name for our boy. Your Dad liked it. He said it was strong and would sound good on the loudspeaker at a football statium. It was, also, a saints name. Our boy would have two saints names, but I didn't clue your Dad in. We had a name. Pretty excsting! The nurse and I cracked up....and we kept the fact that it was two saints names to ourselves.
About this time, your Dad realized he'd forgotten our camera. We werr 30 minutes away from leaving for the OR. Dad decides to dash across the street to buy a camera at Wal*Mart! YES...your Dad actually went into a WAL*MART!!!! Voluntarily!
I left for the OR while Dad got a camera to capture your birth and first moments in life. I walked the long walk to the OR, feeling sort of like a condemned woman. Scared to death for my babies. Would you be able to breath? Would you be ok? Would you live? Would you be sick? What would happen to you? Yeah, this was scary stuff.
STOP. I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE....TAKE ME BACK TO MY ROOM AND LET MY BABIES GROW!! But there was no going back. Along the long walk to the OR, were friends who'd made it to the hospital in time to see me off. I got hugs and encouragement from a friend's Mom. She was there because she knew my own mother would not be there and she didn't think it was right that there would be no Grandma in the hallway waiting for news of your birth. This memory brings happy tears to my eyes as I recall it. No doubt, kids, we are loved!
I stopped to weigh myself on a scale just outside the operating room. Let me just say at this point, I weighed more than your Dad did when he played football in high school! Not good for someone who'd started the pregnancy at a slight 118lbs.
We went into the room outside the OR and I got a funny little cap for my head and shoes for my feet, and then they hoisted my very pregnant self onto the table and started my epidural. All done with that, they prepared to start the surgery and I started panicking--WHERE is your DAD?
Finally, I hear your Dad outside in the room getting his funny little cap and shoes for his feet! YAY!!! Camera in hand. He's got his green scrubs on (and I remember thinking "darn he looks handsome in those") and it was show time. C-sections look exactly the way they show them on TV. Only difference is for yours there were a LOT more people because there were two babies and you were two months early. There were three teams in that room, one for each baby, and one for me. Then there was Dad and also the anesthesiologist who took care of my epidural.
They put a oxygen mask on me, strapped my arms down on the table, put up the screen so I couldn't see what they were doing...and then it wasn't long before I heard "It's a Boy", "look over here Dad..." I heard you cry, but you sounded like a little kitten, not like a baby.
Your Dad looked and then he got queazy...looked like he was going to hit the deck. They asked him if he was OK and he was. They brought this little red boy baby past us...and I caught a quick glance....and I can still see this in my mind's eye. A red, wrinkly, covered with goo, boy baby with a scrunched up little face who didn't look real happy! I said "Oh honey, he's beautiful". To which your Dad replied: "He's not beautful, he's a mess". What a happy memory that is for me! I wonder if your Dad remembers it too?
A minute later we hear "It's a girl...don't look yet, Dad"....and then they whisked our girl to a special table to work on her. Our girl wasn't breathing, wasn't crying, and they didn't let us see her at first. I could hear conversations, but couldn't make them out...
Still no crying. No faint kitten call. WHATS WRONG WITH MY BABY, my mind screamed. The wait seemed like a couple of lifetimes all rolled into one. And then we heard it...the kitten call of our little baby girl!
Eventually they brought both babies over to meet me and Dad for just a second. Long enough for us to look at your tiny little faces, give you your first kiss from Mommy and Daddy and tell you how very much we loved you and how happy we were to finally meet you! And...then it was off to Intensive Care for you both. I all but ordered your Dad go with you both...for some reason, I was truly worried you'd be kidnapped or switched with another baby and I figured your Dad...being built like the football player he was, would be the perfect deterrant to that! :)
I was a little busy in the OR getting put back together by the docs, or I'd have come along too. But you can guess I wasn't in any shape for that.
Eventually I went to the recovery room, and then to my room. Epidural in place. But it made me feel like I was going to fall out of bed, because I was numb from the armpits down and sitting up was difficult. Even with both railings up, it scared me.
Your Dad watched you get your first bath, a diaper, a hat and you took your first tests. Dad came back to my room with two Polaroid pictures of you (Polaroids are instant photos that spit out of the camera--this was long before digital cameras).
Around 10 pm, went to NICU for the first of many times to come. As soon as I saw you, I fell apart and started crying. The reality and enormity of your condition quickly sunk in. The excitemet I had felt at your being born and finally meeting you gave way to sheer terror. Would my babies live?
I asked this question...and I got an evasive answer. "The first 72 hours are the most critical". "Its too early to tell". "We'll have to watch them closely for compligations". "Prepare for the worst, hope/pray for the best".
We weren't allowed to hold you. Both of you were too little and too sick to be held just yet. That would have to wait. We were allowed to touch you and talk to you and tell you how very much we love you. And I was glad for that chance.
We didn't stay long, because there was a LOT of work to be done to get you healthy and home to me and your Dad. Dad took me back to my room and we tried to get some rest, but sleep wasn't coming to me that night.
I can't imagine life without either of you. You're my precious babies. You are my life, my heart, my soul, my everything. YOU are the reason I have gotten up every day since you were born, and gotten on with the business of living.
January 26, 1995 was a BIG day in our lives. And it's been a BIG day in our lives ever since.
You will one day understand the depth and breadth of my love for you when you have your own children. I hope I will be able to share that day with you...the day you become parents for the first time and every time you are blessed wtih God's greatest gift...children. Unlike my Mother, it would take wild horses to keep me away from the birth of my grandchildren. Just wait and see! :))
HAPPY BIRTHDAY...I love you both more than you will ever know!
~~Mom
What a day that was. I remember it clearly. I had been in the hospital for a couple of weeks on complete bedrest due to preterm labor and a condition called HELLP Syndrome, which is a very serious, very dangerous (to mother and babies) complication of pregnancy which features dangerously high blood pressure, hemolysis (damaged red blood cells in the mother), elevated liver enzymes (damage to mother's liver), low platelets (mother's blood can't clot, which means she could blead to death), and serious serious fluid retention that made me gain 5lbs overnight sometimes. It's a really icky condition and you feel sicker than you've ever been in your life.
Every day the nurses got me up out of bed, weighed me, helped me bathe, and put me back in bed. I was having blood drawn every 4 hours to check all the levels that needed checking to make sure I wasn't getting too sick. We were trying to buy as much time as we could for you both to grow, because you weren't due until late March and it was only late January.
There was snow on the ground the day you were born. The doctor let me get up in a wheelchair to see it for 15 minutes. That was a big day. About mid-morning my doctor came in to see me and told me that it looked like today (January 26, 1995) was the day you would be born. At this point I was pretty fed up wth being pregnant, but I was seriously scared to death about you being born 8 weeks early. And I told him I'd changed my mind, I could wait for your due date. He told me that wasn't an option. That we had to get you both out pretty soon. The doctor told me it was time to find your Dad and get him to the hospital. I called your Dad and told him it was show time. It took him a while to finally get to the hospital--arriving around 3:30 or 4:00 pm.
We had a little girls name all picked out. She would be named for both our grandmothers. Funny thing was, we didn't know if we had a daughter. We only knew the gender of one of the babies...a boy. He had a middle name, but no first name. So, while we waited as the nurses prepared me for surgery, Dad and I went through the baby name book to finally find a name for our son. We never looked for another boy's name for "mystery baby", because we both felt sure the "mystery baby" was a girl. Thank goodness we were right!
So I leafed through the name book while your Dad paced and stressed out. He looked scared. Really scared. I thought he was going to puke or pass out. I've known your Dad almost 25 years, but I'd never seen him quite like this before. This was OMG scared!
My room was a gorgeous LDRP room...with hardwood floors and a jacuzzi in the bathroom (which only got to use one time, dadgummit). Your Dad was leaving bg black scuff marks on the floor with his dress shoes (he was still in his suit and tie from work). The nurses and I thought this was pretty funny. You could literally SEE the path he was busy wearing into the floor.
So I started tossing out first names to go with the middle name....Matthew...no, that would be two saints names, "too holy-rollerish". Andrew....again, two saints names--"too holy-rollerish". Ryan...no, "too girly" according to your Dad.
Finally, we settled on a name for our boy. Your Dad liked it. He said it was strong and would sound good on the loudspeaker at a football statium. It was, also, a saints name. Our boy would have two saints names, but I didn't clue your Dad in. We had a name. Pretty excsting! The nurse and I cracked up....and we kept the fact that it was two saints names to ourselves.
About this time, your Dad realized he'd forgotten our camera. We werr 30 minutes away from leaving for the OR. Dad decides to dash across the street to buy a camera at Wal*Mart! YES...your Dad actually went into a WAL*MART!!!! Voluntarily!
I left for the OR while Dad got a camera to capture your birth and first moments in life. I walked the long walk to the OR, feeling sort of like a condemned woman. Scared to death for my babies. Would you be able to breath? Would you be ok? Would you live? Would you be sick? What would happen to you? Yeah, this was scary stuff.
STOP. I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE....TAKE ME BACK TO MY ROOM AND LET MY BABIES GROW!! But there was no going back. Along the long walk to the OR, were friends who'd made it to the hospital in time to see me off. I got hugs and encouragement from a friend's Mom. She was there because she knew my own mother would not be there and she didn't think it was right that there would be no Grandma in the hallway waiting for news of your birth. This memory brings happy tears to my eyes as I recall it. No doubt, kids, we are loved!
I stopped to weigh myself on a scale just outside the operating room. Let me just say at this point, I weighed more than your Dad did when he played football in high school! Not good for someone who'd started the pregnancy at a slight 118lbs.
We went into the room outside the OR and I got a funny little cap for my head and shoes for my feet, and then they hoisted my very pregnant self onto the table and started my epidural. All done with that, they prepared to start the surgery and I started panicking--WHERE is your DAD?
Finally, I hear your Dad outside in the room getting his funny little cap and shoes for his feet! YAY!!! Camera in hand. He's got his green scrubs on (and I remember thinking "darn he looks handsome in those") and it was show time. C-sections look exactly the way they show them on TV. Only difference is for yours there were a LOT more people because there were two babies and you were two months early. There were three teams in that room, one for each baby, and one for me. Then there was Dad and also the anesthesiologist who took care of my epidural.
They put a oxygen mask on me, strapped my arms down on the table, put up the screen so I couldn't see what they were doing...and then it wasn't long before I heard "It's a Boy", "look over here Dad..." I heard you cry, but you sounded like a little kitten, not like a baby.
Your Dad looked and then he got queazy...looked like he was going to hit the deck. They asked him if he was OK and he was. They brought this little red boy baby past us...and I caught a quick glance....and I can still see this in my mind's eye. A red, wrinkly, covered with goo, boy baby with a scrunched up little face who didn't look real happy! I said "Oh honey, he's beautiful". To which your Dad replied: "He's not beautful, he's a mess". What a happy memory that is for me! I wonder if your Dad remembers it too?
A minute later we hear "It's a girl...don't look yet, Dad"....and then they whisked our girl to a special table to work on her. Our girl wasn't breathing, wasn't crying, and they didn't let us see her at first. I could hear conversations, but couldn't make them out...
Still no crying. No faint kitten call. WHATS WRONG WITH MY BABY, my mind screamed. The wait seemed like a couple of lifetimes all rolled into one. And then we heard it...the kitten call of our little baby girl!
Eventually they brought both babies over to meet me and Dad for just a second. Long enough for us to look at your tiny little faces, give you your first kiss from Mommy and Daddy and tell you how very much we loved you and how happy we were to finally meet you! And...then it was off to Intensive Care for you both. I all but ordered your Dad go with you both...for some reason, I was truly worried you'd be kidnapped or switched with another baby and I figured your Dad...being built like the football player he was, would be the perfect deterrant to that! :)
I was a little busy in the OR getting put back together by the docs, or I'd have come along too. But you can guess I wasn't in any shape for that.
Eventually I went to the recovery room, and then to my room. Epidural in place. But it made me feel like I was going to fall out of bed, because I was numb from the armpits down and sitting up was difficult. Even with both railings up, it scared me.
Your Dad watched you get your first bath, a diaper, a hat and you took your first tests. Dad came back to my room with two Polaroid pictures of you (Polaroids are instant photos that spit out of the camera--this was long before digital cameras).
Around 10 pm, went to NICU for the first of many times to come. As soon as I saw you, I fell apart and started crying. The reality and enormity of your condition quickly sunk in. The excitemet I had felt at your being born and finally meeting you gave way to sheer terror. Would my babies live?
I asked this question...and I got an evasive answer. "The first 72 hours are the most critical". "Its too early to tell". "We'll have to watch them closely for compligations". "Prepare for the worst, hope/pray for the best".
We weren't allowed to hold you. Both of you were too little and too sick to be held just yet. That would have to wait. We were allowed to touch you and talk to you and tell you how very much we love you. And I was glad for that chance.
We didn't stay long, because there was a LOT of work to be done to get you healthy and home to me and your Dad. Dad took me back to my room and we tried to get some rest, but sleep wasn't coming to me that night.
I can't imagine life without either of you. You're my precious babies. You are my life, my heart, my soul, my everything. YOU are the reason I have gotten up every day since you were born, and gotten on with the business of living.
January 26, 1995 was a BIG day in our lives. And it's been a BIG day in our lives ever since.
You will one day understand the depth and breadth of my love for you when you have your own children. I hope I will be able to share that day with you...the day you become parents for the first time and every time you are blessed wtih God's greatest gift...children. Unlike my Mother, it would take wild horses to keep me away from the birth of my grandchildren. Just wait and see! :))
HAPPY BIRTHDAY...I love you both more than you will ever know!
~~Mom
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Happy Birthday, Sweet 16!! What advice would you give your 16 year old self if you could go back in time?
Yes, that's right....my sweet babies will be 16 tomorrow. Amazing. Where did the time go? After a lovely meal of ramen noodles and Coke Zero, I've been been pouring over their pictures from the past years. Their birth. Their stay in NICU. Sitting in my old recliner after bath time mugging for the camera. Their first day of school in front of our old house, my old van. At the beach when we visited their grandparents (my parents). I want my old mini-van Mom life back. I want my babies back. Looking at these photos tugs at my heart and brings tears to my eyes.
I know the only guarantee in life is change. Yes, I get that. But why must change always be difficult? The last two years of my life have been a series of very difficult events that have tested my mettle and challenged me to survive like no other time in my life. I have lost all that was dear to me over the past 18 months. A really good job. The house I worked so hard to buy. My car. My independence. My financial cushion and retirement accounts. One of our 12 year old Lab/Boxer pups. And now...finally, God help me, I am facing the loss of my children.
Not because I am a bad Mom. I'm not! I've done a damned fine job with my kids. Their father will even (however grudgingly) admit that over the last 16 years I carried and then raised these children and done a good job ofit. They have turned out to be amazing people. He gladly admits that part and I know he'd like to take the credit, but he can't. He wasn't around.
But their Dad, who has had nothing much to do with the kids since we split up in 1995 has had a change of heart and decided now HE wants custody. The kids are 16 years old tomorrow. Two years left until adulthood....AND NOW HE WANTS TO BE A DADDY???? What the....???
What's crazy is that under laws in our state, children aged 14 and older GET TO CHOOSE who they want to live with, and I am told that most judges almost always abide by the wishes of the child(ren).
My kids have NO idea what they are doing. This choice of theirs, I fear, will turn out badly for all involved. Its like I'm standing on the sidelines watching a train wreck about to happen, and I am helpless to do anything to stop it.
Don't get me wrong, I want my kids to be happy. I really do. But I can't help but look back at my own past, and realize how VERY LITTLE I knew about life at 16. I left home for good when I was 9 months older than they are now. I lived at my best friend's house for a brief period of time....long enough to scrape up some money for a cheap apartment on the wrong side of town. I finished high school by going to school during the day and working at night. I became an adult way too soon, long before I was ready.
I haven't lived with my parents since left home at almost 17. I have the advantage of looking back and understanding the deeply important ramifcations of these kinds of decisions at this stage in life and 16-18 is a terribly important time. It's when the footprint for the reat of your life is shaping up.
I missed out on a lot. I graduated from high school a whole quarter early and went from working part time to full time. I missed my prom. Homecoming. Senior pranks. Hanging out with friends. The last day of high school. Graduation practice. Graduation beach trip. Because I was already a working stiff who couldn't get time off work for such childish pleasures.
WHY was I in such a rush to grow up? WHY didn't I listen to my parents? WHY did I put them an "all or nothing" position?
And WHY are my children doing the same thing now? They have decided the grass is greener at their Dad's. Well, maybe he has more money. Maybe he's funny (for now). Maybe they just know they can squeeze more money out of him and his Dad by playing the guilt card...."You miseed the first 16 yaers of my life...you owe me"??? I don't know why they are doing this. I really don't.
But I know that I am in pain as I sit back and prepare to watch my children take such a similar route as I did at their age, and they have NO idea how their choices now could totally and completely derail or destroy their lives. Kinda the way I did.
My gosh, if I could only go back in time and un-do the damage I did to my life. I'd do it in a heartbeat. I would go back and give myself a real stern lecture about me and my behavior.
This is what I would tell my 16 year old self:
1. Pace yourself. Life is a marathon, not a sprint. Dont rush growing up, you have a LONG time to deal with the headaches and heartaches of adulthood. Enjoy being a kid as long as you can. Once you're an adult, you don't get those teen years back.
2. Stay at home and finish high school with your peers. Go to college and FINISH. GET YOUR DEGREE. "Some college" looks completely crap on a resume or job application. It most certainly does NOT look nearly as impressive as letters after your name, like RN, BSN, PharmD, PhD, MD, DDS, DVM, or whatever that indicates you actually finished school and did something valuable with that time.
3. ALWAYS save 10% off your paycheck on payday. Figure out a way to make it happen. ALWAYS. Even if you have to get a 2nd job to put money in savings. DO IT, because, trust me a rainy day (or DAYS as in my case) WILL COME! Be prepared.
4. Here's the order for doing adult things: high school, college/under grad, grad school (optional), specialised advanced degrees (optional), get your own place, engagement, marriage, honeymoon, children....and then wash and repeat for the next generation.
5. Don't get ANY of those steps out of order, or you risk destroying your life, or at the bare minimum having a crap life. Trust me on this, I know.
6. Life IS better when it's shared. If you love someone, make sure they treat you with respect, and you treat them the same. Make sure they're your best friend first. Looks fade. Chemistry fades. Attraction fades. And when that's gone, you'll be glad you still have your best friend by your side. :)
7. Spend time with your grandparents at every opportunity. Call them. Write them. Keep the lines of communication open. Write down or tape record their funny stories and the family history. Document who/what/where/when on the backs of those old photos. That info is probably stuck in their heads...and nowhere else, and nobody else has it. Just them. They don't live forever, and when they're gone, they're gone and its too late then.
8. Learn its OK to say "I'm sorry". Would you rather be RIGHT or HAPPY? If it's happy, then learing the fine art of apologizing when you're wrong is the route to happiness.
9. Go to church occasionally. Let God know you're grateful for His great gifts....the main one being your life.
10. Honor thy Father and Mother. Especially your Mom. She deserves respect, if for no other reason than she carried you and gave birth to you, and then raised your butt for 16+ years--while she put HER life on hold.
11. Make an effort to get along with your siblings...you never know when you'll need them.
12. Try to enjoy life and live in the PRESENT. Not the past. Not the future. The right here, right now. Make each day count, because you never know what day is your last day.
13. Forgive. Let bygones and tresspasses go. Nursing a grudge only hurts YOU.
14. Keep a journal and write. WRITE. WRITE.
15. Read. Watch less TV. Who cares about the internet, Facebook, Twitter, Blogging, etc (and of course, if I had this conversation with MY 16 year old ME, I would have a difficult time explaining all but TV to my 16 year old ME). ;)
That's about all I can think of for now. I just know that my 16 year old me was headstrong, stubborn and she listened to absolutely NO ONE. Nobody. She likely would have a really good laugh if I told her that in 30 some odd years she would weigh what I weigh, have gray hair (and color it), a few stretch marks and a c-section scar, would be divorced, live alone and have a broken heart because her kids left home too soon.
No, my 16 year old me would tell the middle-aged me to f-off with all this good advice and my cautionary tale of "don't turn out like this, kid". Yeah, she would. In a heartbeat. She would tell me that I am about as dumb as her mother. And she would believe it. Deeply.
Just about as deeply as my own daughter (who by the way looks remarkably like the real-life 16 year old me from so long ago. Except her hair is darker than mine. But the attitude and outright contempt is there in her eyes. The same as it was in mine.
And now I know how I broke my own mother's heart. I suppose I am being paid back.
Guess what Mom?
I got that daughter just like me that you wished upon me so many years ago! Fortunately, she came with a twin brother who has been so much easier on me than she has been.
And so it goes...another generation, another generation gap. I hope I live long enough to see my kids raise their own children to adulthood. Especially to see if my dear daughter gets a daughter just like HER.
Ahhhhh....I feel better just having gotten this off my chest.
Happy Birthday, Sweet 16, kids!
I love you!
~~~Mom
I know the only guarantee in life is change. Yes, I get that. But why must change always be difficult? The last two years of my life have been a series of very difficult events that have tested my mettle and challenged me to survive like no other time in my life. I have lost all that was dear to me over the past 18 months. A really good job. The house I worked so hard to buy. My car. My independence. My financial cushion and retirement accounts. One of our 12 year old Lab/Boxer pups. And now...finally, God help me, I am facing the loss of my children.
Not because I am a bad Mom. I'm not! I've done a damned fine job with my kids. Their father will even (however grudgingly) admit that over the last 16 years I carried and then raised these children and done a good job ofit. They have turned out to be amazing people. He gladly admits that part and I know he'd like to take the credit, but he can't. He wasn't around.
But their Dad, who has had nothing much to do with the kids since we split up in 1995 has had a change of heart and decided now HE wants custody. The kids are 16 years old tomorrow. Two years left until adulthood....AND NOW HE WANTS TO BE A DADDY???? What the....???
What's crazy is that under laws in our state, children aged 14 and older GET TO CHOOSE who they want to live with, and I am told that most judges almost always abide by the wishes of the child(ren).
My kids have NO idea what they are doing. This choice of theirs, I fear, will turn out badly for all involved. Its like I'm standing on the sidelines watching a train wreck about to happen, and I am helpless to do anything to stop it.
Don't get me wrong, I want my kids to be happy. I really do. But I can't help but look back at my own past, and realize how VERY LITTLE I knew about life at 16. I left home for good when I was 9 months older than they are now. I lived at my best friend's house for a brief period of time....long enough to scrape up some money for a cheap apartment on the wrong side of town. I finished high school by going to school during the day and working at night. I became an adult way too soon, long before I was ready.
I haven't lived with my parents since left home at almost 17. I have the advantage of looking back and understanding the deeply important ramifcations of these kinds of decisions at this stage in life and 16-18 is a terribly important time. It's when the footprint for the reat of your life is shaping up.
I missed out on a lot. I graduated from high school a whole quarter early and went from working part time to full time. I missed my prom. Homecoming. Senior pranks. Hanging out with friends. The last day of high school. Graduation practice. Graduation beach trip. Because I was already a working stiff who couldn't get time off work for such childish pleasures.
WHY was I in such a rush to grow up? WHY didn't I listen to my parents? WHY did I put them an "all or nothing" position?
And WHY are my children doing the same thing now? They have decided the grass is greener at their Dad's. Well, maybe he has more money. Maybe he's funny (for now). Maybe they just know they can squeeze more money out of him and his Dad by playing the guilt card...."You miseed the first 16 yaers of my life...you owe me"??? I don't know why they are doing this. I really don't.
But I know that I am in pain as I sit back and prepare to watch my children take such a similar route as I did at their age, and they have NO idea how their choices now could totally and completely derail or destroy their lives. Kinda the way I did.
My gosh, if I could only go back in time and un-do the damage I did to my life. I'd do it in a heartbeat. I would go back and give myself a real stern lecture about me and my behavior.
This is what I would tell my 16 year old self:
1. Pace yourself. Life is a marathon, not a sprint. Dont rush growing up, you have a LONG time to deal with the headaches and heartaches of adulthood. Enjoy being a kid as long as you can. Once you're an adult, you don't get those teen years back.
2. Stay at home and finish high school with your peers. Go to college and FINISH. GET YOUR DEGREE. "Some college" looks completely crap on a resume or job application. It most certainly does NOT look nearly as impressive as letters after your name, like RN, BSN, PharmD, PhD, MD, DDS, DVM, or whatever that indicates you actually finished school and did something valuable with that time.
3. ALWAYS save 10% off your paycheck on payday. Figure out a way to make it happen. ALWAYS. Even if you have to get a 2nd job to put money in savings. DO IT, because, trust me a rainy day (or DAYS as in my case) WILL COME! Be prepared.
4. Here's the order for doing adult things: high school, college/under grad, grad school (optional), specialised advanced degrees (optional), get your own place, engagement, marriage, honeymoon, children....and then wash and repeat for the next generation.
5. Don't get ANY of those steps out of order, or you risk destroying your life, or at the bare minimum having a crap life. Trust me on this, I know.
6. Life IS better when it's shared. If you love someone, make sure they treat you with respect, and you treat them the same. Make sure they're your best friend first. Looks fade. Chemistry fades. Attraction fades. And when that's gone, you'll be glad you still have your best friend by your side. :)
7. Spend time with your grandparents at every opportunity. Call them. Write them. Keep the lines of communication open. Write down or tape record their funny stories and the family history. Document who/what/where/when on the backs of those old photos. That info is probably stuck in their heads...and nowhere else, and nobody else has it. Just them. They don't live forever, and when they're gone, they're gone and its too late then.
8. Learn its OK to say "I'm sorry". Would you rather be RIGHT or HAPPY? If it's happy, then learing the fine art of apologizing when you're wrong is the route to happiness.
9. Go to church occasionally. Let God know you're grateful for His great gifts....the main one being your life.
10. Honor thy Father and Mother. Especially your Mom. She deserves respect, if for no other reason than she carried you and gave birth to you, and then raised your butt for 16+ years--while she put HER life on hold.
11. Make an effort to get along with your siblings...you never know when you'll need them.
12. Try to enjoy life and live in the PRESENT. Not the past. Not the future. The right here, right now. Make each day count, because you never know what day is your last day.
13. Forgive. Let bygones and tresspasses go. Nursing a grudge only hurts YOU.
14. Keep a journal and write. WRITE. WRITE.
15. Read. Watch less TV. Who cares about the internet, Facebook, Twitter, Blogging, etc (and of course, if I had this conversation with MY 16 year old ME, I would have a difficult time explaining all but TV to my 16 year old ME). ;)
That's about all I can think of for now. I just know that my 16 year old me was headstrong, stubborn and she listened to absolutely NO ONE. Nobody. She likely would have a really good laugh if I told her that in 30 some odd years she would weigh what I weigh, have gray hair (and color it), a few stretch marks and a c-section scar, would be divorced, live alone and have a broken heart because her kids left home too soon.
No, my 16 year old me would tell the middle-aged me to f-off with all this good advice and my cautionary tale of "don't turn out like this, kid". Yeah, she would. In a heartbeat. She would tell me that I am about as dumb as her mother. And she would believe it. Deeply.
Just about as deeply as my own daughter (who by the way looks remarkably like the real-life 16 year old me from so long ago. Except her hair is darker than mine. But the attitude and outright contempt is there in her eyes. The same as it was in mine.
And now I know how I broke my own mother's heart. I suppose I am being paid back.
Guess what Mom?
I got that daughter just like me that you wished upon me so many years ago! Fortunately, she came with a twin brother who has been so much easier on me than she has been.
And so it goes...another generation, another generation gap. I hope I live long enough to see my kids raise their own children to adulthood. Especially to see if my dear daughter gets a daughter just like HER.
Ahhhhh....I feel better just having gotten this off my chest.
Happy Birthday, Sweet 16, kids!
I love you!
~~~Mom
Friday, January 21, 2011
A Vegemite Sandwich!.....
Yeah, well this post doesn't really have much to do with Vegemite. Except that I am watching Oprah's grand finale visit to Australia. What an amazing job her crews did capturing her week visting Down Under!
So, one of the goals I've set for myself in my life is to spend a month visiting Australia and seeing as much as I possibly can see in that time. Australia is a HUGE HUGE country. The largest island on this planet. It's also about 20 or so hours by air from where I live (5 hrs to LA from Atlanta, then another 15 hours from LA to Sydney). So, when I go to Australia, I want to spend a lot of time and see as much as possible. We're talking a WHOLE WORK WEEK worth of time to travel there and back. 40 hours!
So about Vegemite. I've eaten it before. A long time ago when I dated an Aussie rugby player who was in the States going to college. I can't remember the fella's name anymore, but I remember very well the night he and his Aussie roommates introduced me to Vegemite, an Aussie delicacy.
Vegemite is VERY VERY salty. Don't smell it before you eat it. If you do, you won't try it. Not even once. I still haven't figured out the Aussie (prounounced Ozzie) fascination with this condiment spread on bread, toast, crackers (biscuits to the Aussies). They even make a vegemite sandwich. Two pieces of white bread, spread some butter on, spread some Vegemite on. And then you wolf it down. Vegemite, if you don't know, is a yeast extract. Basically, left over grain mash from making beer!!!! Yes, thats what it is. And Aussies eat it....like we do peanut butter! It's a staple of their diet.
I have set a goal for myself...I want to visit Austraila during my winter (their summer) 2013. When my twins are out of high school, off to college and I have the time and the freedom to travel. Kind of a 50th birthday present for myself! How I will find the money, I don't know, but I will. I have two years to make it happen. I came up with the down payment for a house in 4 months when I put my heart soul and effort into it, so I should be able to manage a month in Australia with TWO YEARS to prepare, save and plan!
My Vegemite Sandwich....a Yank's Month in Australia (copyright, 2011). That's the name of the book I will write about my experience. What do you think?
So, one of the goals I've set for myself in my life is to spend a month visiting Australia and seeing as much as I possibly can see in that time. Australia is a HUGE HUGE country. The largest island on this planet. It's also about 20 or so hours by air from where I live (5 hrs to LA from Atlanta, then another 15 hours from LA to Sydney). So, when I go to Australia, I want to spend a lot of time and see as much as possible. We're talking a WHOLE WORK WEEK worth of time to travel there and back. 40 hours!
So about Vegemite. I've eaten it before. A long time ago when I dated an Aussie rugby player who was in the States going to college. I can't remember the fella's name anymore, but I remember very well the night he and his Aussie roommates introduced me to Vegemite, an Aussie delicacy.
Vegemite is VERY VERY salty. Don't smell it before you eat it. If you do, you won't try it. Not even once. I still haven't figured out the Aussie (prounounced Ozzie) fascination with this condiment spread on bread, toast, crackers (biscuits to the Aussies). They even make a vegemite sandwich. Two pieces of white bread, spread some butter on, spread some Vegemite on. And then you wolf it down. Vegemite, if you don't know, is a yeast extract. Basically, left over grain mash from making beer!!!! Yes, thats what it is. And Aussies eat it....like we do peanut butter! It's a staple of their diet.
I have set a goal for myself...I want to visit Austraila during my winter (their summer) 2013. When my twins are out of high school, off to college and I have the time and the freedom to travel. Kind of a 50th birthday present for myself! How I will find the money, I don't know, but I will. I have two years to make it happen. I came up with the down payment for a house in 4 months when I put my heart soul and effort into it, so I should be able to manage a month in Australia with TWO YEARS to prepare, save and plan!
My Vegemite Sandwich....a Yank's Month in Australia (copyright, 2011). That's the name of the book I will write about my experience. What do you think?
Saturday, January 15, 2011
And so it goes....life in 2011.
So, here it is...mid-January 2011. I'm not any better at blogging regularly, unfortunately. For some reason I haven't had much to say in a while. Perhaps this is the result of depression. Probably. There's not much uplifting or peppy or...even interesting going on in my life lately. No stories about the kids...they've decided to go stay with their Dad. He lives closer to their school and friends, and he has a car. I do not. I live in a part of town with bus access, which means its not really a nice part of town. But, it is what it is. At least I'm not homeless.
We lost one of our 11 year old pups just two days before Christmas. Our Katie-bell. She was a sweet girl and I miss her like crazy. It still seems like she's just at the vets and she'll be home any day. But...she's not. We had her cremated and her ashes are in an urn waiting to be picked up at the vets. I am going to try to catch a bus next week and go pick her up. I can't leave her there for long. I don't want anything to happen to her ashes. She is...afterall...as loved as both my children. She was family. She was ours. And she mattered. A LOT, to us.
Her sister, Georgie, is still alive but I fear she won't last much longer herself. It has been so sad and pathetic watching her adjust to being an only dog. The last time she saw her sister, Katie was getting into a car...with the kids and their Dad. So whenever we go out for a walk, Georgie checks every car in the parking lot for her sister. And then she checks every place Katie visited the last couple of times she went out to potty. It breaks my heart. Even after two snow storms, her sister's scent must still be lingering, because she goes back to exactly the same spots each time.
I'm really ready for something GOOD to happen in 2011. 2009-2010 have sucked badly for me. I am almost 50 years old and I have nothing to show for my half century on this planet...that is, except for my kids. And I feel like a visitor in their lives lately. Even though I spent the last 16 years of my life raising them singlehandedly without their father's help. Every second of the last 16 years has been devoted to my children and their lives. Every dime I have made has been devoted to the raising and supporting of my children. Everything....EVERYTHING I have done the last 16 years has been about my kids. I haven't dated. I didn't get married after their Dad, I focused completely on THEM.
And now, without them, I have no idea what to do with myself. Who am I, if not a Mom? I don't feel like a Mom anymore. I didn't get to finish raising my children. I guess I am a cautionary tale...don't let MY LIFE happen to you. I should have had a social life while the kids were growing up, but truth be known, it's exhausting just working full time and attending children's activities. WHEN would I have had time to date...or heaven forbid...remarry? How do other women with children do it? I don't know how they did/do.
So, this year, I suppose my goals are: 1) Suitable new employment. 2) a new car (I have none now) and 3) a (gasp) boyfriend? At FORTY-EIGHT? Oh my.
There. I said it. Those are not my New Year's resolutions. Just goals. My New Year's Resolution is simply this: To enjoy life and appreciate the people in my life.
Seems easy huh? Not. I'm a worrier and permanently anxious person. Enjoying anything is difficult for me. That is...unless it's food or other things that are bad for you. Then I tend to enjoy too much. Such is the way of life.
I am cautiously optimistic that 2011 will turn out better than 2010 or 2009, but I'm not counting on it. If I can actually ENJOY this year, rather than simply exist from day to day, it will be a major thing for me.
Let's see what happens, eh?
We lost one of our 11 year old pups just two days before Christmas. Our Katie-bell. She was a sweet girl and I miss her like crazy. It still seems like she's just at the vets and she'll be home any day. But...she's not. We had her cremated and her ashes are in an urn waiting to be picked up at the vets. I am going to try to catch a bus next week and go pick her up. I can't leave her there for long. I don't want anything to happen to her ashes. She is...afterall...as loved as both my children. She was family. She was ours. And she mattered. A LOT, to us.
Her sister, Georgie, is still alive but I fear she won't last much longer herself. It has been so sad and pathetic watching her adjust to being an only dog. The last time she saw her sister, Katie was getting into a car...with the kids and their Dad. So whenever we go out for a walk, Georgie checks every car in the parking lot for her sister. And then she checks every place Katie visited the last couple of times she went out to potty. It breaks my heart. Even after two snow storms, her sister's scent must still be lingering, because she goes back to exactly the same spots each time.
I'm really ready for something GOOD to happen in 2011. 2009-2010 have sucked badly for me. I am almost 50 years old and I have nothing to show for my half century on this planet...that is, except for my kids. And I feel like a visitor in their lives lately. Even though I spent the last 16 years of my life raising them singlehandedly without their father's help. Every second of the last 16 years has been devoted to my children and their lives. Every dime I have made has been devoted to the raising and supporting of my children. Everything....EVERYTHING I have done the last 16 years has been about my kids. I haven't dated. I didn't get married after their Dad, I focused completely on THEM.
And now, without them, I have no idea what to do with myself. Who am I, if not a Mom? I don't feel like a Mom anymore. I didn't get to finish raising my children. I guess I am a cautionary tale...don't let MY LIFE happen to you. I should have had a social life while the kids were growing up, but truth be known, it's exhausting just working full time and attending children's activities. WHEN would I have had time to date...or heaven forbid...remarry? How do other women with children do it? I don't know how they did/do.
So, this year, I suppose my goals are: 1) Suitable new employment. 2) a new car (I have none now) and 3) a (gasp) boyfriend? At FORTY-EIGHT? Oh my.
There. I said it. Those are not my New Year's resolutions. Just goals. My New Year's Resolution is simply this: To enjoy life and appreciate the people in my life.
Seems easy huh? Not. I'm a worrier and permanently anxious person. Enjoying anything is difficult for me. That is...unless it's food or other things that are bad for you. Then I tend to enjoy too much. Such is the way of life.
I am cautiously optimistic that 2011 will turn out better than 2010 or 2009, but I'm not counting on it. If I can actually ENJOY this year, rather than simply exist from day to day, it will be a major thing for me.
Let's see what happens, eh?
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