I have been tagged, so I will play along. (oh, and I don't feel like studying for an exam tomorrow...)
20 random tidbits about Katie...
1) I can touch my tongue to my nose (very handy in the winter, during drippy-snot season.)
2) I know 42 words that can be spelled using only the letters in Todd Hollandsworth's name.
3) I have a cool t-shirt collection.
4) I moved into my first house 4 years ago today.
5) I once was "escorted home" by the police after T.P.ing a boy's house (Aah, Josh Eakright!)
6) I bought my husband a $950 DVD. (Funny story...now, anyways!)
7) My favorite pair of shoes (my adidas sambas!) were given to me by my 8th grade boyfriend, and I still wear them almost every day! (Last x-mas, Tommy almost bought me a new pair, but finally just looked at me and said "you're still gonna wear the old ones, aren't you?" Yup!)
8) I carry a baby spoon in my purse, because I have a freakish inability to consume a mixed drink without stirring it constantly. (OCD? Perhaps...but I prefer to call it quirky!)
9) I have a full-ride at school, and this year, it even covered the cost of an iPod! (How that helps me to study better is none of your business... plus I can't think of a good reason. Who cares?!? Free iPod!!!)
10) My brothers call me "Dade" because I once said I wanted to become "an ice cream dade" (whatever that is...)
11) One time while we lived in Oregon, an entire 16 floor building was evacuated because your truly accidentally set off the fire alarm!
12) Because of a man named Ralph, I can sing my ABC's backwards, count to 18 in roman numerals, tell my kids that M-O-M-M-Y needs C-O-F-F-E-E, and feel free to dream aloud about a Cubbie World Series. (Ralph's World, the most creative indie rocker/children's folk music dude in the world. Parents, if you love your children at all, you will check him out.)
13) My friend Jen and I once recorded an original song ("Coche Azul." Oh, and don't ever ask to hear it, because I'd rather eat my own brain than play it for anyone.)
14) 3 of my four babies have birthdays within a two week span.(May 17, May 18, June 3), and my fourth baby's birthday is the day after mine. (Sept 7, Sept 8)
15) Though I very rarely drink soda, when I do, it disgusts my hubby. I like it warm and flat, so I open it the night before, and leave it on the counter so its "ready" the next day.
16) I have a raised birthmark on my left arm that used to pulsate when I breastfed.
17) My next-door neighbor is 102, and was sitting on her porch giving out candy and trinkets to the neighborhood kids today, chatting away and having a grand old time. She's so cool. (Her husband is 98, and when we moved in, we forgot what he said his name was, so we just decided to call him "Ray" amongst ourselves. 3 years later, we finally found out his actual name due to a misdirected piece of mail. It's Ted.)
18) I've always thought I hated tuna salad, but I tried it last week, and it ain't half bad.
19) In high school, I was the girl who wore the absolute craziest stuff (like the "plaid outfit" which consisted of about 8 different kinds of red plaid...pants, shirt, necktie, vest, socks (with my clear shoes!) belt, scrunchie...it was out there!)
20) The first purchase for our home was a garbage disposal...which is still in it's box in the closet as we speak.
Ta da! Have a good one, kids...now go get funky.
later gators,
kater the potater-hater
Monday, October 31, 2005
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Simply put, it has been so long.
It has been so long since I have written. I wish I could say it is because I have been too busy having joyous day after day, but it isn't true. Heck, I even wish I could say there has been nothing to write about, no emotion worth putting in words, but that isn't true either.
It has been so long since I have felt real. It has simply been so long since I have been a whole person.
Yesterday, Kristin called me, and if it weren't for caller ID, I wouldn't have known it was her, for all I could hear were tears, an occasional sniffle, a few outright sobs. Immediately, I cried, too. The feeling that flooded into me was one that is hard to explain. It's an old feeling, from when I was just a little kid, 6 or 7 maybe. A feeling of fierce protectiveness, more than merely empathy, the feeling I would get when something made Laurie cry. To hear her cry would squeeze my heart, and make me cry too. It is not that I was upset by what bothered her, I would cry because the sound of her tears broke my big-sister heart. When Kristin cried last night, I felt that same feeling, and it's associations. I cried because I hate hearing my sister cry.
Of course, as we talked, I found plenty of other reasons...
You know how there are those stages of grief? Denial, sadness, anger, bargaining, and acceptance, I think they are, though perhaps not in that order. I have been told many times that it is okay to skip around, and repeat some stages, and get all haywire. Well I have come to realize that the step I have been hitting recently doesn't quite fit the labels. It isn't really acceptance, though it's close. It's more like "un-denial." It's like I keep being struck by the reality of it all, over and over. Laurie is really dead. My sister is gone. The reason it isn't acceptance is because "acceptance" sounds like it is probably a good thing, a step in a positive direction, and that is just simply not how this feels. It feels worse than it has since March. I feel lower, more broken, more broken-hearted now than I have since she quit living. I feel like it makes even less sense each day, as I get further and further away from the time when I still had her. It simply has been so long...
PS My mom had to dial the phone and make the first appointment for me, but it got the ball rolling...
It has been so long since I have felt real. It has simply been so long since I have been a whole person.
Yesterday, Kristin called me, and if it weren't for caller ID, I wouldn't have known it was her, for all I could hear were tears, an occasional sniffle, a few outright sobs. Immediately, I cried, too. The feeling that flooded into me was one that is hard to explain. It's an old feeling, from when I was just a little kid, 6 or 7 maybe. A feeling of fierce protectiveness, more than merely empathy, the feeling I would get when something made Laurie cry. To hear her cry would squeeze my heart, and make me cry too. It is not that I was upset by what bothered her, I would cry because the sound of her tears broke my big-sister heart. When Kristin cried last night, I felt that same feeling, and it's associations. I cried because I hate hearing my sister cry.
Of course, as we talked, I found plenty of other reasons...
You know how there are those stages of grief? Denial, sadness, anger, bargaining, and acceptance, I think they are, though perhaps not in that order. I have been told many times that it is okay to skip around, and repeat some stages, and get all haywire. Well I have come to realize that the step I have been hitting recently doesn't quite fit the labels. It isn't really acceptance, though it's close. It's more like "un-denial." It's like I keep being struck by the reality of it all, over and over. Laurie is really dead. My sister is gone. The reason it isn't acceptance is because "acceptance" sounds like it is probably a good thing, a step in a positive direction, and that is just simply not how this feels. It feels worse than it has since March. I feel lower, more broken, more broken-hearted now than I have since she quit living. I feel like it makes even less sense each day, as I get further and further away from the time when I still had her. It simply has been so long...
PS My mom had to dial the phone and make the first appointment for me, but it got the ball rolling...
Thursday, October 13, 2005
My baby sister is 21 years old!
My beautiful, wonderful, brilliant, hilarious, charming, kind, AMAZING Kristin...
I cannot believe how you have grown. You blow me away, baby girl, by the woman you have become. I am so proud to have you as my sister, it makes me eyes water and my smile stretch.
I know I told you this last night, but I want to tell you again, because it is 100% truth, every word...
If all, all, all the 21 year old girls in the whole wide world were lined up in a huge single file line, I would start walking, and walking until I found you! Then I'd pick you up, and swing you around, tell you how very much I love, love, love you, and take you home forever.
Happy Birthday, darling Kristin!
I cannot believe how you have grown. You blow me away, baby girl, by the woman you have become. I am so proud to have you as my sister, it makes me eyes water and my smile stretch.
I know I told you this last night, but I want to tell you again, because it is 100% truth, every word...
If all, all, all the 21 year old girls in the whole wide world were lined up in a huge single file line, I would start walking, and walking until I found you! Then I'd pick you up, and swing you around, tell you how very much I love, love, love you, and take you home forever.
Happy Birthday, darling Kristin!
Monday, October 10, 2005
I knew I didn't like Drew for a reason!!!
And yet, I am still a good sport. Fine. here is your stupid tag-list. (although it is a bit interesting, if not suprising to see what you are listening to, Drewpie!)
THE RULES: List five songs that you are currently loving. It doesn't matter what genre they are from, whether they have words, or even if they're any good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying right now. Post these instructions, the artists, and the songs in your blog. Then tag five other friends to see what they're listening to.
1. Don't Phunk With My Heart (Black Eyed Peas)
2. How Could This Happen To Me? (Simple Plan)
3. Held (Natalie Grant)
4. Sweet Child O' Mine (GNR)
5. Sarah (Paul Alan)
And now for the fun part...(by the way, I don't know how to link, so deal!) Y'all are tagged!!!
AnnMarie (http://juaintheam.blogspot.com/)
Debbi D. (http://debdun10.blogspot.com/)
Anna P. (http://ampointyourtoes.blogspot.com/)
Kim (http://bumpyroadsontheway.blogspot.com/)
Mandy (http://pixiethawts.blogspot.com/)
Lub, and lub, and lub!!!
THE RULES: List five songs that you are currently loving. It doesn't matter what genre they are from, whether they have words, or even if they're any good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying right now. Post these instructions, the artists, and the songs in your blog. Then tag five other friends to see what they're listening to.
1. Don't Phunk With My Heart (Black Eyed Peas)
2. How Could This Happen To Me? (Simple Plan)
3. Held (Natalie Grant)
4. Sweet Child O' Mine (GNR)
5. Sarah (Paul Alan)
And now for the fun part...(by the way, I don't know how to link, so deal!) Y'all are tagged!!!
AnnMarie (http://juaintheam.blogspot.com/)
Debbi D. (http://debdun10.blogspot.com/)
Anna P. (http://ampointyourtoes.blogspot.com/)
Kim (http://bumpyroadsontheway.blogspot.com/)
Mandy (http://pixiethawts.blogspot.com/)
Lub, and lub, and lub!!!
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Nightswimming...
Nightswimming deserves a quiet night.
The photograph on the dashboard, taken years ago,
Turned around backwards so the windshield shows.
Every streetlight reveals the picture in reverse.
Still, it's so much clearer.
I forgot my shirt at the water's edge.
The moon is low tonight.
Nightswimming deserves a quiet night.
I'm not sure all these people understand.
It's not like years ago,
The fear of getting caught,
Of recklessness and water.
They cannot see me naked.
These things, they go away,
Replaced by everyday.
Nightswimming, remembering that night.
September's coming soon.
I'm pining for the moon.
And what if there were two
Side by side in orbit
Around the fairest sun?
That bright, tight forever drum
Could not describe nightswimming.
You, I thought I knew you.
You I cannot judge.
You, I thought you knew me,
This one laughing quietly underneath my breath.
Nightswimming.
The photograph reflects,
Every streetlight a reminder.
Nightswimming deserves a quiet night, deserves a quiet night.
-R.E.M
The photograph on the dashboard, taken years ago,
Turned around backwards so the windshield shows.
Every streetlight reveals the picture in reverse.
Still, it's so much clearer.
I forgot my shirt at the water's edge.
The moon is low tonight.
Nightswimming deserves a quiet night.
I'm not sure all these people understand.
It's not like years ago,
The fear of getting caught,
Of recklessness and water.
They cannot see me naked.
These things, they go away,
Replaced by everyday.
Nightswimming, remembering that night.
September's coming soon.
I'm pining for the moon.
And what if there were two
Side by side in orbit
Around the fairest sun?
That bright, tight forever drum
Could not describe nightswimming.
You, I thought I knew you.
You I cannot judge.
You, I thought you knew me,
This one laughing quietly underneath my breath.
Nightswimming.
The photograph reflects,
Every streetlight a reminder.
Nightswimming deserves a quiet night, deserves a quiet night.
-R.E.M
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Thanks, Mom...
For:
1) My new carpeting, entertainment center, window treatments, etc!
2) Coming to the parade with us to show the children the proper way to scream "CANDY!!!"
3) Reminding me that the block party is coming
4) Letting me ramble about school at random times
5) Getting me cool books that are exactly what I need for encouragement
6) Being so proud of me, even when I feel like I have no idea what I am doing
7) Teaching me the sheer joy of the clearance rack
8) Laughing with me until we cry
9) Crying with me until we laugh
10) Squeezing me out of your body 27 years ago, give or take a few hours...
I love you oodles.
Tommy, thanks for letting me have a Todd Hollandsworth jersey, even if it makes me cry. He might be a Brave now, but he is still the "Fun Cub" to me. Besides, studies show that 60% of the time it works every time. Lub.
1) My new carpeting, entertainment center, window treatments, etc!
2) Coming to the parade with us to show the children the proper way to scream "CANDY!!!"
3) Reminding me that the block party is coming
4) Letting me ramble about school at random times
5) Getting me cool books that are exactly what I need for encouragement
6) Being so proud of me, even when I feel like I have no idea what I am doing
7) Teaching me the sheer joy of the clearance rack
8) Laughing with me until we cry
9) Crying with me until we laugh
10) Squeezing me out of your body 27 years ago, give or take a few hours...
I love you oodles.
Tommy, thanks for letting me have a Todd Hollandsworth jersey, even if it makes me cry. He might be a Brave now, but he is still the "Fun Cub" to me. Besides, studies show that 60% of the time it works every time. Lub.
Friday, August 26, 2005
Dear Anonymous comment #9...
Anonymous said...
Why do you allow the kids to rule the home?
11:54 PM
Dear Anonymous,
First, and most importantly, kiss off.
Seriously, you are a piece of work. Try as I might, I simply do not understand people like you. I do not understand what it is about going out of your way to be cruel and insenstive and 100% devoid of any compassion that is so attractive to you. I just do not understand why you delight so much in your inhumanity. Can you explain? Can you tell me what is going through your head? What happened to you to make you bitter, mean, and ashamed of yourself? To paraphrase your own question, why do you allow evil to rule your heart? Perhaps if you share, we'd all know better how to pray for you...
In the meantime, I just wanted to make sure I express how grateful I am to so many of you who have offered your time to me, and your prayers. They are certainly coveted. I am truly blessed to have such a wonderful fellowship surrounding me...y'all are good.
Always,
Katie
Why do you allow the kids to rule the home?
11:54 PM
Dear Anonymous,
First, and most importantly, kiss off.
Seriously, you are a piece of work. Try as I might, I simply do not understand people like you. I do not understand what it is about going out of your way to be cruel and insenstive and 100% devoid of any compassion that is so attractive to you. I just do not understand why you delight so much in your inhumanity. Can you explain? Can you tell me what is going through your head? What happened to you to make you bitter, mean, and ashamed of yourself? To paraphrase your own question, why do you allow evil to rule your heart? Perhaps if you share, we'd all know better how to pray for you...
In the meantime, I just wanted to make sure I express how grateful I am to so many of you who have offered your time to me, and your prayers. They are certainly coveted. I am truly blessed to have such a wonderful fellowship surrounding me...y'all are good.
Always,
Katie
Sunday, August 21, 2005
A toast...to the end of an era...
Alright, this post will be brief (as I am procrastinating thoroughly right now, but really don't have the liberty!) I just wanted to share something that has been on my mind for the last week or so... life, as I know it, is over.
Tomorrow morning, at 8 am, I start my final year of nursing school (assuming I do not fail out!) I'll study, and slave, and work my little butt off to keep my grades. Tommy and I will run a schedule tighter than Daisy Duke's daisy dukes. The kids will have baseball, ballet, tae kwon do, tap dancing, birthday parties, first grade, and ten million other things sure to come up on a daily basis. Tommy officially will take on a management role, after 6 months of studying, training, testing, and jumping through hoops of fire. And in May, when I graduate, I will be a real live nurse. Everyone and their mother has heard that there is a nursing shortage, so there is no worry that I will find a stellar job right after, if not before graduation. I'll take that job, and love it, and slave, and work my little butt off to do well. Tommy and I will run a schedule tighter than Daisy Duke's daisy dukes. The kids will have baseball, ballet, tae kwon do, tap...etc, etc, etc. Catch my drift?
Today is the last day of my summer break. Tomorrow, I begin the journey that doesn't end until retirement. Sure, maybe I am being a bit overdramatic, but in lots of respects, it really feels like today is the last day of an era in my life, and tomorrow is the first day of another.
Kinda depressing, kinda cool. Anyhow, wish me luck...
Tomorrow morning, at 8 am, I start my final year of nursing school (assuming I do not fail out!) I'll study, and slave, and work my little butt off to keep my grades. Tommy and I will run a schedule tighter than Daisy Duke's daisy dukes. The kids will have baseball, ballet, tae kwon do, tap dancing, birthday parties, first grade, and ten million other things sure to come up on a daily basis. Tommy officially will take on a management role, after 6 months of studying, training, testing, and jumping through hoops of fire. And in May, when I graduate, I will be a real live nurse. Everyone and their mother has heard that there is a nursing shortage, so there is no worry that I will find a stellar job right after, if not before graduation. I'll take that job, and love it, and slave, and work my little butt off to do well. Tommy and I will run a schedule tighter than Daisy Duke's daisy dukes. The kids will have baseball, ballet, tae kwon do, tap...etc, etc, etc. Catch my drift?
Today is the last day of my summer break. Tomorrow, I begin the journey that doesn't end until retirement. Sure, maybe I am being a bit overdramatic, but in lots of respects, it really feels like today is the last day of an era in my life, and tomorrow is the first day of another.
Kinda depressing, kinda cool. Anyhow, wish me luck...
Friday, August 19, 2005
Minty Fresh!!!
Around our house, bedtime is 8:00, give or take a bit. Some folks might balk at that, thinking that 8:00 is ridiculously early, heck it isn't even completely dark then. However, walk a day in my shoes, and you will soon see why those last fifteen minutes until the witching hour may as well be fifteen years.
Our day starts at a decent hour, depending on the whims of the children. Typically, it's around 8 am. The tricky part is that it is a daily gamble on whether or not the children will choose to head right in to get mom and dad moving, or make a pit stop somewhere first. By pit stop, I basically mean "find something that they are forbidden to play with, and simply go to town!" Examples of previous adventures? Permanent marker all over the computer monitor, white-out everywhere (including themselves), more selections of "artwork" on the walls than I can even count, the consumption of literally pounds of candy(which was stored on top of the fridge, mind you!) I'm sure I am missing plenty (oh yes, the time they covered Maya's entire bedroom with a fine layer of baby powder, that was fun!) but you'll have to take my word for it, we've been through the ringer.
I might add that there are many "misadventures" gone on with my children that have taken place at other times of day than the wee hours of the morning, such as the day that I was in the shower, pregnant with Isaiah, and had "trapped" the children upstairs with me via baby gate. Unfortunately, I had neglected to double check that there were no safety scissors within reach (yup, not the real ones, I'm talking about the stupid round tip, don't cut anything including paper dumb ones.) Midway through my 3 minutes of (relative) peace, I heard Maya's little voice from the other side of the shower curtain. "Mommy, Denver gave me a mullet!" Slowly, I peeked out to find that he had indeed. Diligently, yet quickly, he had lopped all the hair (and only the hair) on top of her head to a half-inch length. It was awful. The only way to salvage anything was to cut all of it, her whole head to that length, and call it a pixie cut. If you have never seen it, and want a good laugh, let me show you some pictures. Trust me, Maya's head is far too round for that look!
Or recently, for example, during the 15 minute visit from our mortgage people to have some papers notarized, I sent the children to the basement playroom, and chatted with the friendly notary. I actually said the words "uh oh, it is just too quiet! I wonder what they are up to..." After the kind woman left, I wished I could have eaten my words, so badly did murphy's law bite me. It turns out they were hungry, so they saw no problems with sneaking to the kitchen to grab a bag of groceries not yet unpacked, and make a snack. I am pretty sure it has happened to all of us at one point, as we have made ourselves a peanut butter sandwich...one thought: I should get some shampoo, and make a giant sculpture with it and this peanut butter. No? Never happened to you? Well then I guess my kids are the first! It was quite impressive, but a monster pain to clean up. (Normally, I'd make them clean it themselves, but I had visions of the bubbles created by a full bottle of shampoo and thought better of it!) I sent the two older kids to their room, and let Isaiah follow me around as I cleaned. When I went upstairs 25 minutes later, I noticed something odd, almost funny, but clearly odd. A perfect little "trail" of toys, shoes, odds-and-ends, in a neat little line, leading from the front door up the stairs, to the open door of the bedroom, which was empty. I ran outside, baby on my hip, and panicked. No kids in sight. I called out their names, normally at first, but then louder, and finally yelling. Just as I was about to have an actual freak out, they appeared around the corner...two blocks up. They had packed their little suitcases, loaded them into the wagon, and decided to run away. I was simply beside myself with anxiety, scared out of my wits, and at a complete loss for what I needed to change for disciplinary action.
I've tried everything...time-outs, spankings, hot sauce on the tongue, confiscation of toys. I must point out that I am a no-holds-barred mom. When I take a toy to be thrown out...it is thrown out. A spanking is a bare butt, "spare the rod, spoil the child" sort. A time-out is sitting alone on the naughty chair being ignored completely. I'm at my wits end.
Recently I perused a book from a dear friend, Debbie, and it has been insightful. Just today, I reread Dare to Discipline by Dr James Dobson, a favorite of mine even just as a reminder that I am not an idiot, that discipline is real work. I needed to reread it this evening due to the behavior last night. After 2 hours of completely ignoring my requests for them to sleep, (some of those requests were nice, others were yelled, and everything in between) I left them alone, and sat for a half an hour reading my school books for my classes starting monday, and talked to a friend on the phone. When I went to check on the progress, I found them wide awake, and very minty. They had taken not one but FOUR tubes of toothpaste, and emptied them everywhere. The bathroom was a disaster, my bed was covered, a bucket of water was dumped on the rug in my room. It was very icky. They got the works from me. Yelling, spankings, a tablespoon of toothpaste for each of them to swallow, even a proclamation that I am not their mom anymore tonight. (I made them call me Mrs Michel and everything!) I went downstairs, waited, and listened. That seemed to hit home, as they wailed that they still wanted a mommy, and they needed someone to take care of them. After awhile, they talked, and decided that they had in fact done a very bad thing, and agreed that they should really be good. We talked about it this morning, and they have been pretty well behaved. Even still, I am exhausted. Fried out. Beaten up. Just plain beaten.
Don't get me wrong, I am certainly not alone. There are gwadzillions of other moms out there in the same boat. But at the same time, I can't speak for anyone but myself, and for me...I need to get proactive. I need to follow through on the promise I made to my shrink, and acknowledge step #1 according to Dr Dobson on how to maintain my sanity. I need to ask for help. I need to ask people who want to help me to step in and help me. Perhaps it is the desperation of last night, the thing that is making me actually agree, not just theorize about how it is a good idea, but that's cool, because my rope is fraying rapidly, and I need a break. No wait, not a break, many breaks. Dr Dobson says "#1. At least once a week the mother should go bowling, or shopping, or 'waste' an occasional afternoon. It is unhealthy for anyone to work all the time, and the entire family will profit from her recreation." My personal good ole Dr Dunlap wrote me a "prescription" for it, to hand over to my loved ones, since I feel far too guilty to come right out and ask. I've gotten gutsy enough to ask two people that I love, and both have agreed without hesitation. Even still, I hate putting people out...but not today. Today, my hands are still tingly from the menthol and I probably have fluoride poisoning from the amount of toothpaste I cleaned up. Today I have circles under my eyes, and even I can tell that I am getting sickly looking. I am stressed, and I need some help. I need a break...ASAP.
On that note...anyone want to babysit tomorrow night? (Or any night, really! That's the downside of Tommy's work schedule, I'm in school in the morning, and he leaves at 1 for work, so he does what he can) It's last minute for sure, but it would be a great gift to me this weekend in particular. Several of my old Fridays/small group/Willow girls are going for a girls only camping weekend. Cindy, Lindsey, Lisa... women who lift me with laughter. If there's anybody out there who might be willing to take the kids Saturday night, it would matter. It really would. (Oh, don't worry, the kids only like to terrorize me, everyone else is pretty safe!)
Furthermore, if the mood ever strikes, and you feel like enjoying my children, I'm humbly asking that you will. I know that admitting that I am simply not strong enough, smart enough, or cool enough to do this whole mom thing alone is a big step, a step that I know many moms aren't taking. For those moms (and you know who you are!) please call me, and know that the barter system of babysitting works wonders!
Well, it's been a half an hour since the kids went to bed...time to assess the damage...much love to y'all...
Our day starts at a decent hour, depending on the whims of the children. Typically, it's around 8 am. The tricky part is that it is a daily gamble on whether or not the children will choose to head right in to get mom and dad moving, or make a pit stop somewhere first. By pit stop, I basically mean "find something that they are forbidden to play with, and simply go to town!" Examples of previous adventures? Permanent marker all over the computer monitor, white-out everywhere (including themselves), more selections of "artwork" on the walls than I can even count, the consumption of literally pounds of candy(which was stored on top of the fridge, mind you!) I'm sure I am missing plenty (oh yes, the time they covered Maya's entire bedroom with a fine layer of baby powder, that was fun!) but you'll have to take my word for it, we've been through the ringer.
I might add that there are many "misadventures" gone on with my children that have taken place at other times of day than the wee hours of the morning, such as the day that I was in the shower, pregnant with Isaiah, and had "trapped" the children upstairs with me via baby gate. Unfortunately, I had neglected to double check that there were no safety scissors within reach (yup, not the real ones, I'm talking about the stupid round tip, don't cut anything including paper dumb ones.) Midway through my 3 minutes of (relative) peace, I heard Maya's little voice from the other side of the shower curtain. "Mommy, Denver gave me a mullet!" Slowly, I peeked out to find that he had indeed. Diligently, yet quickly, he had lopped all the hair (and only the hair) on top of her head to a half-inch length. It was awful. The only way to salvage anything was to cut all of it, her whole head to that length, and call it a pixie cut. If you have never seen it, and want a good laugh, let me show you some pictures. Trust me, Maya's head is far too round for that look!
Or recently, for example, during the 15 minute visit from our mortgage people to have some papers notarized, I sent the children to the basement playroom, and chatted with the friendly notary. I actually said the words "uh oh, it is just too quiet! I wonder what they are up to..." After the kind woman left, I wished I could have eaten my words, so badly did murphy's law bite me. It turns out they were hungry, so they saw no problems with sneaking to the kitchen to grab a bag of groceries not yet unpacked, and make a snack. I am pretty sure it has happened to all of us at one point, as we have made ourselves a peanut butter sandwich...one thought: I should get some shampoo, and make a giant sculpture with it and this peanut butter. No? Never happened to you? Well then I guess my kids are the first! It was quite impressive, but a monster pain to clean up. (Normally, I'd make them clean it themselves, but I had visions of the bubbles created by a full bottle of shampoo and thought better of it!) I sent the two older kids to their room, and let Isaiah follow me around as I cleaned. When I went upstairs 25 minutes later, I noticed something odd, almost funny, but clearly odd. A perfect little "trail" of toys, shoes, odds-and-ends, in a neat little line, leading from the front door up the stairs, to the open door of the bedroom, which was empty. I ran outside, baby on my hip, and panicked. No kids in sight. I called out their names, normally at first, but then louder, and finally yelling. Just as I was about to have an actual freak out, they appeared around the corner...two blocks up. They had packed their little suitcases, loaded them into the wagon, and decided to run away. I was simply beside myself with anxiety, scared out of my wits, and at a complete loss for what I needed to change for disciplinary action.
I've tried everything...time-outs, spankings, hot sauce on the tongue, confiscation of toys. I must point out that I am a no-holds-barred mom. When I take a toy to be thrown out...it is thrown out. A spanking is a bare butt, "spare the rod, spoil the child" sort. A time-out is sitting alone on the naughty chair being ignored completely. I'm at my wits end.
Recently I perused a book from a dear friend, Debbie, and it has been insightful. Just today, I reread Dare to Discipline by Dr James Dobson, a favorite of mine even just as a reminder that I am not an idiot, that discipline is real work. I needed to reread it this evening due to the behavior last night. After 2 hours of completely ignoring my requests for them to sleep, (some of those requests were nice, others were yelled, and everything in between) I left them alone, and sat for a half an hour reading my school books for my classes starting monday, and talked to a friend on the phone. When I went to check on the progress, I found them wide awake, and very minty. They had taken not one but FOUR tubes of toothpaste, and emptied them everywhere. The bathroom was a disaster, my bed was covered, a bucket of water was dumped on the rug in my room. It was very icky. They got the works from me. Yelling, spankings, a tablespoon of toothpaste for each of them to swallow, even a proclamation that I am not their mom anymore tonight. (I made them call me Mrs Michel and everything!) I went downstairs, waited, and listened. That seemed to hit home, as they wailed that they still wanted a mommy, and they needed someone to take care of them. After awhile, they talked, and decided that they had in fact done a very bad thing, and agreed that they should really be good. We talked about it this morning, and they have been pretty well behaved. Even still, I am exhausted. Fried out. Beaten up. Just plain beaten.
Don't get me wrong, I am certainly not alone. There are gwadzillions of other moms out there in the same boat. But at the same time, I can't speak for anyone but myself, and for me...I need to get proactive. I need to follow through on the promise I made to my shrink, and acknowledge step #1 according to Dr Dobson on how to maintain my sanity. I need to ask for help. I need to ask people who want to help me to step in and help me. Perhaps it is the desperation of last night, the thing that is making me actually agree, not just theorize about how it is a good idea, but that's cool, because my rope is fraying rapidly, and I need a break. No wait, not a break, many breaks. Dr Dobson says "#1. At least once a week the mother should go bowling, or shopping, or 'waste' an occasional afternoon. It is unhealthy for anyone to work all the time, and the entire family will profit from her recreation." My personal good ole Dr Dunlap wrote me a "prescription" for it, to hand over to my loved ones, since I feel far too guilty to come right out and ask. I've gotten gutsy enough to ask two people that I love, and both have agreed without hesitation. Even still, I hate putting people out...but not today. Today, my hands are still tingly from the menthol and I probably have fluoride poisoning from the amount of toothpaste I cleaned up. Today I have circles under my eyes, and even I can tell that I am getting sickly looking. I am stressed, and I need some help. I need a break...ASAP.
On that note...anyone want to babysit tomorrow night? (Or any night, really! That's the downside of Tommy's work schedule, I'm in school in the morning, and he leaves at 1 for work, so he does what he can) It's last minute for sure, but it would be a great gift to me this weekend in particular. Several of my old Fridays/small group/Willow girls are going for a girls only camping weekend. Cindy, Lindsey, Lisa... women who lift me with laughter. If there's anybody out there who might be willing to take the kids Saturday night, it would matter. It really would. (Oh, don't worry, the kids only like to terrorize me, everyone else is pretty safe!)
Furthermore, if the mood ever strikes, and you feel like enjoying my children, I'm humbly asking that you will. I know that admitting that I am simply not strong enough, smart enough, or cool enough to do this whole mom thing alone is a big step, a step that I know many moms aren't taking. For those moms (and you know who you are!) please call me, and know that the barter system of babysitting works wonders!
Well, it's been a half an hour since the kids went to bed...time to assess the damage...much love to y'all...
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
weeping, wailing, and throwing punches...and proud of it
Recently, I had another moment in the garden, me vs. the weeds, except this time, it wasn't a garden, it was a deserted parking lot late at night, and it was my steering wheel that caught the brunt of my rage. Sitting in my car, doors locked, lights off, CD of "Laurie songs" playing loudly, so loudly that I could barely hear my screams.
Right at this moment, my eyes fill with tears, because I can still taste the wail in my throat. That guttural wail of absolute brokenness, like your damaged heart itself is trying to escape it's cage via your lips. It's the kind that you cannot control, it is not so much a sob as it is you... the very core of you, the ugliest, dirtiest, most pain-saturated part of you, and it is desperately and forcibly making it's way out into the world.
There are so many ways that I am healing, and getting better, perhaps even better than I was when she was here. There are parts of Katie that are coming to the surface and blossoming. There are things that God has uniquely blessed me with, things that are completely and totally Katie and Katie alone, that are showing up on the outside of me, released from the bottle I have stuffed them in for so very long. There are pieces of Katie that are good, very, very good.
But along with that, there is the sense of "I-still-miss-her-more-than-I-even-want-to-think-about." There is a ache with every beat of my heart, an ache for my sister. A desperate, wailing ache.
And that is where I am.
I have bruises on my hands where I pounded on my dashboard. I have puffy eyes. I have astonishing people in my life who are reaching out to me every day, praying me through the grit. I have a Father who is using all sorts of tools to show up for me, songs that tell me I am "held," books that tell me "I hope you realize how much your family, your friends, your church, your community, and this world need you. Don't allow who you truly are to be lost, buried, or devalued...what is most truly you matters." I have a sense that it is okay for me to be in the exact place that I am, in my grief, in my growth, in me...even if that place is somewhere between "full of hope" and "hopeless."
Where are you? How is your garden, your parked car, your pillow to scream into? How is your journal, your diary, your blog, your safe place to express your ups and downs, no matter how ginormous or petty? Has someone told you today "I hope you realize how much your family, your friends, your church, your community, and this world need you. Don't allow who you truly are to be lost, buried, or devalued...what is most truly you matters"? May I tell you?
I hope you realize how much your family, your friends, your church, your community, and this world need you. Don't allow who you truly are to be lost, buried, or devalued...what is most truly you matters.
Right at this moment, my eyes fill with tears, because I can still taste the wail in my throat. That guttural wail of absolute brokenness, like your damaged heart itself is trying to escape it's cage via your lips. It's the kind that you cannot control, it is not so much a sob as it is you... the very core of you, the ugliest, dirtiest, most pain-saturated part of you, and it is desperately and forcibly making it's way out into the world.
There are so many ways that I am healing, and getting better, perhaps even better than I was when she was here. There are parts of Katie that are coming to the surface and blossoming. There are things that God has uniquely blessed me with, things that are completely and totally Katie and Katie alone, that are showing up on the outside of me, released from the bottle I have stuffed them in for so very long. There are pieces of Katie that are good, very, very good.
But along with that, there is the sense of "I-still-miss-her-more-than-I-even-want-to-think-about." There is a ache with every beat of my heart, an ache for my sister. A desperate, wailing ache.
And that is where I am.
I have bruises on my hands where I pounded on my dashboard. I have puffy eyes. I have astonishing people in my life who are reaching out to me every day, praying me through the grit. I have a Father who is using all sorts of tools to show up for me, songs that tell me I am "held," books that tell me "I hope you realize how much your family, your friends, your church, your community, and this world need you. Don't allow who you truly are to be lost, buried, or devalued...what is most truly you matters." I have a sense that it is okay for me to be in the exact place that I am, in my grief, in my growth, in me...even if that place is somewhere between "full of hope" and "hopeless."
Where are you? How is your garden, your parked car, your pillow to scream into? How is your journal, your diary, your blog, your safe place to express your ups and downs, no matter how ginormous or petty? Has someone told you today "I hope you realize how much your family, your friends, your church, your community, and this world need you. Don't allow who you truly are to be lost, buried, or devalued...what is most truly you matters"? May I tell you?
I hope you realize how much your family, your friends, your church, your community, and this world need you. Don't allow who you truly are to be lost, buried, or devalued...what is most truly you matters.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
What color is your blood?
I know what color mine is! I got a tattoo last April, on the front of my right hip. Yup, before you asked, it hurt very, very much. But worth every single wince of pain. What is it? About the size of a silver dollar, a beautiful Cubs insignia. Breathtaking, I swear... That night, after I was able to remove the initial bandage, I had a moment of joy even through the pain. On the bandage was the perfect mirror image of my new tattoo, a mix of blood and ink...my blood, Cubbie blue. Aahhhh. Beautiful. (and yes, I saved the bandage!)
So the other day I got a copy of a pretty new book on the market. It's called "Cubs Nation" by Gene Wojciechowski. Basically, it is a brilliant, intimate detailing of each and every game of the 2004 season of the Chicago Cubs. Actually, the details about the games are brief, but each day he tells a new story of Cubs lore, whether it is an interview with a player, or a beer guy, or a bleacher bum, or whatever. It is fantastic, definitely one of the best reads yet to date, in my book. (and not simply because of my blood type...)
On the other hand, the book did give me a moment of pain that I hadn't visited in a while. That stabbing I-miss-my-sister-and-I-wish-I-could-share-this-with-her kind, the sort that hits you from out of nowhere. Right smack in the middle of a story about the author's tour of the place where each player's uniforms are custom made, I realized how much Laurie would have LOVED this book. Laurie was born in June of 1984, just a few weeks before The Sandberg Game, was 14-years-old and oblivious during the 1998 semi-boon with Kerry's 20 KOs and the Sosa/McGwire chase of Roger Maris. She had just begun her real devotion to the legacy, she was just starting to see what color her blood was... this book, it would have grown her up. It would have taught her all sorts of little things unknown, about baseball, about the Cubs, about life. (Seriously, its that good!) It would have showed her little details about our beloved boys in blue that simply watching the game wouldn't expose (like the 3 things Matt Clement relies on to get him through the tough times: religion, family, and Greg Maddux. For crying out loud, he named his only child Mattix!) or that Eddie Vedder is so devoted, he owns an actual full Kerry Wood uniform displayed on a moving mannequin! It would have been so fun to share this crap, and that just ain't gonna happen. That sucks.
To some of you, this may have been the most boring post in the history of blogging. To the rest of you...read the book, you'll know that "ouch-I-miss-her" feeling that will make you want to read more and more...
So the other day I got a copy of a pretty new book on the market. It's called "Cubs Nation" by Gene Wojciechowski. Basically, it is a brilliant, intimate detailing of each and every game of the 2004 season of the Chicago Cubs. Actually, the details about the games are brief, but each day he tells a new story of Cubs lore, whether it is an interview with a player, or a beer guy, or a bleacher bum, or whatever. It is fantastic, definitely one of the best reads yet to date, in my book. (and not simply because of my blood type...)
On the other hand, the book did give me a moment of pain that I hadn't visited in a while. That stabbing I-miss-my-sister-and-I-wish-I-could-share-this-with-her kind, the sort that hits you from out of nowhere. Right smack in the middle of a story about the author's tour of the place where each player's uniforms are custom made, I realized how much Laurie would have LOVED this book. Laurie was born in June of 1984, just a few weeks before The Sandberg Game, was 14-years-old and oblivious during the 1998 semi-boon with Kerry's 20 KOs and the Sosa/McGwire chase of Roger Maris. She had just begun her real devotion to the legacy, she was just starting to see what color her blood was... this book, it would have grown her up. It would have taught her all sorts of little things unknown, about baseball, about the Cubs, about life. (Seriously, its that good!) It would have showed her little details about our beloved boys in blue that simply watching the game wouldn't expose (like the 3 things Matt Clement relies on to get him through the tough times: religion, family, and Greg Maddux. For crying out loud, he named his only child Mattix!) or that Eddie Vedder is so devoted, he owns an actual full Kerry Wood uniform displayed on a moving mannequin! It would have been so fun to share this crap, and that just ain't gonna happen. That sucks.
To some of you, this may have been the most boring post in the history of blogging. To the rest of you...read the book, you'll know that "ouch-I-miss-her" feeling that will make you want to read more and more...
Monday, July 25, 2005
Oh, the places you'll go...
Hey y'all. Before I get to the nitty gritty, I would first like to take a moment to direct your attention to the blog of my super cousin, Mandy. She is prayerfully hunting for a new assistant, and I figured since we have the ability to network, why don't we? Check it out, and get the word out, if you'd be so kind! http://pixiethawts.blogspot.com/
(um, yeah, I don't know how to put a link in all smooth like Drew-the-Pooh.)
Anyways, I wanted to share a story, just because. Kinda sad, but kinda not. A few weeks ago, Tommy and I had the chance to get away for a weekend, to go the wedding of a friend in St Louis. We had a blast, and the wedding was beautiful. Honestly, there were a few moments during the ceremony that I couldn't help but think about the fact that I would never see my sister get married, but it was cool because if you cry at a wedding, nobody stares! The big punch-to-the-gut moment came during the reception. We all sat down, and the toasts began. The best man was great, he had us all in stitches, and then the maid of honor. She started by saying that she was very nervous, and so she had recruited all the bridesmaids to help her. And then, she picked up a book and started reciting the words. She got about 4 words out before Tommy and I simultaneously squeezed each other's hands in that desperate "ouch, this is gonna hurt" sort of way. We were both instantly brought back to our wedding day. Laurie was my maid of honor, and the toast she gave us, was a reading of the book "Oh, the places you'll go" by Dr Suess...The same book that the bridesmaids took turns reading out of. I only made it about 15 seconds, before I quietly excused myself to sob uncontrollably in the ladies room.
The good news is that my sister-in-law, Julie joined me a few minutes later, and was so great about letting me cry, and blab to her. After getting it all out, I actually felt good, like I could still feel Laurie's touch on my life. We went back in, had a great meal, fantastic fun with friends, and cut the rug so hard we nearly passed out. (Tommy is a great dancer, in case you've never seen him in action! We rocked that floor hard!)
Anyhow, hope all is well... I'm off to read the amazing transcription that Laurie wrote in the copy she read from and gave to us as a gift, then read the book, and ponder the places I'll go...
PS One last tidbit...I'm no longer a blonde! My wonderful cousin Molly made a special trip to help repair the craziness on Friday! Molly, you're the best...even if you laughed really hard at first! Oh, as promised, I have written you into my will. You'll get all three of our kids, our dog, our cat, our fish, and our lawnmower...What do you mean you are so glad I am in such good health?!? Love you oodles, gorgeous! And speaking of cousins, Mandy and Heidi were awesome with the kids! They can't wait to sleep over again, so we'll just have to set up another event! (wink wink!)
(um, yeah, I don't know how to put a link in all smooth like Drew-the-Pooh.)
Anyways, I wanted to share a story, just because. Kinda sad, but kinda not. A few weeks ago, Tommy and I had the chance to get away for a weekend, to go the wedding of a friend in St Louis. We had a blast, and the wedding was beautiful. Honestly, there were a few moments during the ceremony that I couldn't help but think about the fact that I would never see my sister get married, but it was cool because if you cry at a wedding, nobody stares! The big punch-to-the-gut moment came during the reception. We all sat down, and the toasts began. The best man was great, he had us all in stitches, and then the maid of honor. She started by saying that she was very nervous, and so she had recruited all the bridesmaids to help her. And then, she picked up a book and started reciting the words. She got about 4 words out before Tommy and I simultaneously squeezed each other's hands in that desperate "ouch, this is gonna hurt" sort of way. We were both instantly brought back to our wedding day. Laurie was my maid of honor, and the toast she gave us, was a reading of the book "Oh, the places you'll go" by Dr Suess...The same book that the bridesmaids took turns reading out of. I only made it about 15 seconds, before I quietly excused myself to sob uncontrollably in the ladies room.
The good news is that my sister-in-law, Julie joined me a few minutes later, and was so great about letting me cry, and blab to her. After getting it all out, I actually felt good, like I could still feel Laurie's touch on my life. We went back in, had a great meal, fantastic fun with friends, and cut the rug so hard we nearly passed out. (Tommy is a great dancer, in case you've never seen him in action! We rocked that floor hard!)
Anyhow, hope all is well... I'm off to read the amazing transcription that Laurie wrote in the copy she read from and gave to us as a gift, then read the book, and ponder the places I'll go...
PS One last tidbit...I'm no longer a blonde! My wonderful cousin Molly made a special trip to help repair the craziness on Friday! Molly, you're the best...even if you laughed really hard at first! Oh, as promised, I have written you into my will. You'll get all three of our kids, our dog, our cat, our fish, and our lawnmower...What do you mean you are so glad I am in such good health?!? Love you oodles, gorgeous! And speaking of cousins, Mandy and Heidi were awesome with the kids! They can't wait to sleep over again, so we'll just have to set up another event! (wink wink!)
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Fine. For the "so-called-friends" who keep wondering if our camera still works. You win. Jerks. Wow, now that I look at it, I almost look normal...maybe not so much! By the way, see on the braids, where it looks like a golden color? THAT IS NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE IN REAL LIFE!!! They are the same barely-a-hint-of-yellow color as the top of my head! Yikes!
I am such a girl!!!
WARNING: There is no point to this blog entry whatsoever! There will be absolutely no insightful words, inspiring thoughts, or even a mention of anything profound. It is simply a temper tantrum, full-blown, kicking and screaming, about the stupidest and shallowest thing in the world. Forgive me in advance!
Why?!? Why did I let myself do this?!? Why on earth did I ever stand at the end of the hair color aisle at Target and pause for even a second?!? Why didn't I call someone to let them talk me out of this first?!? Why?!?
Yes, folks, I have done something stupid. Very, very stupid. I have taken a lovely head full of pretty strawberry blond hair...and turned it platinum. I dyed it not once, BUT TWICE!!! What the heck is wrong with me?!? I bought a box of ultra light blonde, and decided to do it last week. Well, halfway through the process I glanced in the mirror and freaked! I grabbed the shower head, and frantically rinsed. However, that was a dumb move. Stopping midway gave me a weird gold-yellow color which I hated. So what did I do? I went out and bought another box!!! DUH!!! (please excuse me for one moment while I bang my head on the wall.) Well, it is blonde. Very blonde. Gwen Stefani. Christina Aguilera. Paris Hilton. Pamela Anderson. Blonde, blonde, blonde!!! I am platinum! I don't want to be platinum!!!
Yes, I have already called my brilliant cousin Molly, the hair stylist/master, who will most likely be written into my will. The one thing I have been pretty much informed of for certain is that whatever we do, we will have to wait a couple of weeks, so I don't have to go bald (which doesn't sound that bad right now!!!)
Now I need to go stare at myself in the mirror for awhile, while wailing away. Why?!?! Why, Katie, why?!?
Hope y'all are well and normal-haired.
Why?!? Why did I let myself do this?!? Why on earth did I ever stand at the end of the hair color aisle at Target and pause for even a second?!? Why didn't I call someone to let them talk me out of this first?!? Why?!?
Yes, folks, I have done something stupid. Very, very stupid. I have taken a lovely head full of pretty strawberry blond hair...and turned it platinum. I dyed it not once, BUT TWICE!!! What the heck is wrong with me?!? I bought a box of ultra light blonde, and decided to do it last week. Well, halfway through the process I glanced in the mirror and freaked! I grabbed the shower head, and frantically rinsed. However, that was a dumb move. Stopping midway gave me a weird gold-yellow color which I hated. So what did I do? I went out and bought another box!!! DUH!!! (please excuse me for one moment while I bang my head on the wall.) Well, it is blonde. Very blonde. Gwen Stefani. Christina Aguilera. Paris Hilton. Pamela Anderson. Blonde, blonde, blonde!!! I am platinum! I don't want to be platinum!!!
Yes, I have already called my brilliant cousin Molly, the hair stylist/master, who will most likely be written into my will. The one thing I have been pretty much informed of for certain is that whatever we do, we will have to wait a couple of weeks, so I don't have to go bald (which doesn't sound that bad right now!!!)
Now I need to go stare at myself in the mirror for awhile, while wailing away. Why?!?! Why, Katie, why?!?
Hope y'all are well and normal-haired.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
A gulp of fresh air...
Aaahhh. It is just simply so sad that all it takes for me to be right with the world again is to get a new internet service provider! Before I get to business on the good stuff, allow me to take one second and put some info out there for my nearest and dearest (which of course is all of you!) First, we changed our email, hopefully for the last time! Tommy is undecided still, but my new address is nursekatie1@comcast.net, so go ahead and update your address books, and to make me feel warm and fuzzy, shoot me an email too! Secondly, since we were so fed up with AT&T regarding our DSL, we decided to simply bite the bullet and ditch our land line altogether, and run with the hip crowd that relies solely on cell phones! If you don't have our numbers, and need them, email me, o-tay?
On that note, it seems that there is once again so much to catch up on that it can't really be done. The overnight walk, for one, was astounding. Painful in several ways, but overall, an experience we are not likely to forget any time soon. I love that we spent time together, walking in ever-changing groups, or pairs, talking about different things, and dragging each other step by step. I feel a special wedge in my heart for each of the folks on the team, family, friends, and perfect strangers alike. I also feel so overwhelmed by the intense outpouring of support from so, so, so many. Prayers, and midnight phone calls, and visits to the spectator sites...it is quite a great feeling to be part of such a great fellowship. Thanks, y'all.
Oddly enough, the hardest part was actually the check-in process. The shock of being surrounded by thousands of people all in my boat was a bit disconcerting. I got really mad at Laur just then. I looked at all the faces, all the beads people were given to wear to represent thier losses, and it just felt like a kick in the gut. All at once, I felt like I was part of a big group of survivors, and so completely small in my grief. I just kept hearing the words that Chris said, as he walked into the house that night after finding out that Laurie had taken her life..."this is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard." That is so much what it felt like. This is so completely stupid. Obviously, the event is a great thing, and the cause desperately needs to be fueled so that change can take place, but it simply felt like the biggest crock of crap that we had to be there. Later, as we walked by all the luminarias that each walker made, and dedicated to a loved one, I got angry all over again.
Look at this, Laurie...you're just not that special. You're a statistic. You're a number, a fact, a paper bag on the sidewalk. You had the world at your feet, and every opportunity to make a damn difference, but instead, you are a strand of beads from a giant heap.
I feel like I may be in a minority, because I am not in a place lately that I want to put Laurie on a pedestal. I am simply not at that place where I am jumping on the bandwagon to rave about how great she was. Mind you, I am certainly not basing all of this feeling on one particular bad decision she made (even though it sure was a doozy) I am taking it within the context of the last year or so of her life. I am feeling very mad at her lately because of the way she lied. She lied to me, to everyone. She said she was well, and happy, and all the other crap like the junk she said on her blog. She looked me in the eye over and over, and told me how much I amazed her, meanwhile not even trusting me enough to let me into her head or heart. It makes me feel like crap, and has done quite a number on my abilities to relate to people that I love. She has given me a raw edge, so that I look a bit more skeptically at those around me. She has made me spend more time wondering who will betray me next, and how, than I ever wanted. That ain't cool. So these days, even if I am alone, I am simply not in the mood to revere all of her. I'm more in the mood to try to find a way to redirect, to find a way to learn just as much from her about how NOT to treat people as I have about how TO treat people. Its quite a fine line, really...
Anyhow, I may have pushed a few buttons, and I am sorry. You know I love the girl, but I am simply not okay with glossing over and shutting down. Take it or leave it...but I'm still here.
On that note, it seems that there is once again so much to catch up on that it can't really be done. The overnight walk, for one, was astounding. Painful in several ways, but overall, an experience we are not likely to forget any time soon. I love that we spent time together, walking in ever-changing groups, or pairs, talking about different things, and dragging each other step by step. I feel a special wedge in my heart for each of the folks on the team, family, friends, and perfect strangers alike. I also feel so overwhelmed by the intense outpouring of support from so, so, so many. Prayers, and midnight phone calls, and visits to the spectator sites...it is quite a great feeling to be part of such a great fellowship. Thanks, y'all.
Oddly enough, the hardest part was actually the check-in process. The shock of being surrounded by thousands of people all in my boat was a bit disconcerting. I got really mad at Laur just then. I looked at all the faces, all the beads people were given to wear to represent thier losses, and it just felt like a kick in the gut. All at once, I felt like I was part of a big group of survivors, and so completely small in my grief. I just kept hearing the words that Chris said, as he walked into the house that night after finding out that Laurie had taken her life..."this is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard." That is so much what it felt like. This is so completely stupid. Obviously, the event is a great thing, and the cause desperately needs to be fueled so that change can take place, but it simply felt like the biggest crock of crap that we had to be there. Later, as we walked by all the luminarias that each walker made, and dedicated to a loved one, I got angry all over again.
Look at this, Laurie...you're just not that special. You're a statistic. You're a number, a fact, a paper bag on the sidewalk. You had the world at your feet, and every opportunity to make a damn difference, but instead, you are a strand of beads from a giant heap.
I feel like I may be in a minority, because I am not in a place lately that I want to put Laurie on a pedestal. I am simply not at that place where I am jumping on the bandwagon to rave about how great she was. Mind you, I am certainly not basing all of this feeling on one particular bad decision she made (even though it sure was a doozy) I am taking it within the context of the last year or so of her life. I am feeling very mad at her lately because of the way she lied. She lied to me, to everyone. She said she was well, and happy, and all the other crap like the junk she said on her blog. She looked me in the eye over and over, and told me how much I amazed her, meanwhile not even trusting me enough to let me into her head or heart. It makes me feel like crap, and has done quite a number on my abilities to relate to people that I love. She has given me a raw edge, so that I look a bit more skeptically at those around me. She has made me spend more time wondering who will betray me next, and how, than I ever wanted. That ain't cool. So these days, even if I am alone, I am simply not in the mood to revere all of her. I'm more in the mood to try to find a way to redirect, to find a way to learn just as much from her about how NOT to treat people as I have about how TO treat people. Its quite a fine line, really...
Anyhow, I may have pushed a few buttons, and I am sorry. You know I love the girl, but I am simply not okay with glossing over and shutting down. Take it or leave it...but I'm still here.
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