Untethered

This could very well be one of those confusing posts or a self-pitying post, but honestly, it is more of an explanation. Maybe even a way of working things out in my mind.

I am the ultimate organizer, juggling multiple balls, and keeping so many things going at all times. Most of my living, though, occurs in my head and occasionally spills out here. I have a wonderful life, and yet, at feel at a loss most times.

In my family (the one that raised me), I was always considered "sweet," sentimental," and "wise beyond my years." Within my family, I was always so much quieter. It was an odd dichotomy because I talked constantly, but in some ways they never really knew quite what to do with me. All of that talking was my way of being seen and staying present, not forgotten or disappearing. My family kept me grounded here on earth. It would be so easy for me to just retreat into my head and live through words (the ones in my mind and the ones others have written). I figured out long ago, the easiest way to stay present was to watch, observe, and give people what they needed. Most people would be shocked at what I've noticed and filed away about them. I have this crazy visual memory that is filled with snapshots in time. At my mother's funeral, my distant cousins were so surprised at the small details that I remembered about them. I doubt most people realize how important they are to me. I am a story teller. It is what I do best. The thing about my type of story teller is we spend so much time watching, we might not always be living.

I always felt loved by my family, maybe not always understood, but very loved. Each time I lost a member, I lost a piece of  me. Now, I am so ungrounded, just floating there. I am a satellite of some wonderful, loving families (in laws, step). I know they like me, but they can't really anchor me, nor should they be expected to. They try very hard to include me, and I try very hard to be included.

I am an anchor in my own right. I anchor Rob and the girls (and in some part, my brother). There is nothing I'd rather do. But it is hard to be an anchor, when you are floating around as a satellite. I am not completely at a loss. I have my brother. The problem is he is trying to anchor his own family. He and I bounce around, connecting in between caring for spouses, children, houses, jobs.

I am trying very hard to find a place. I am still so much happier observing. That's why I love to read and watch movies. I can be part of a place without actually being there. There is no risk in losing fictional characters.

I am trying very hard to find a place. I have put myself out there more than ever. I have tried going out with other mothers and attended a new church. I just haven't quiet found my place. I have this amazing little family, and yet I am very lonely. This can go one of two ways: either I keep rolling on and wear down the edges or I find my missing piece (if you are confused go read Shel Silverstein's The Missing Piece and The Missing Piece Meets the Big O).

Critters

I just finished reading The Glass Castle. I loved it. There is a comradery between those who have grown up in eccentric/dysfunctional families. There is also a dark sense of humor. Things that others might find upsetting or shocking we sometimes find them funny. I loved the humor Jeannette Walls was able to see in her life. I also loved that she knew there was always love. I could pontificate upon the topic of eccentric families, humor, and love for hours, but that is a post for another time. Today's post is about my legacy: pets, lots and lots of pets.

My paternal grandfather, aside from being the best man I have ever known, was our town's animal control officer. This was back in the day before tons of paper work, rules, and silly litigation. It was a time when a man could own a donkey in the middle of a suburban town. A time when said man's wife (in her robe) could be often seen chasing that donkey down the street when she (the donkey) staged early morning escapes. This was also a time when this man's son could bring his young bride home to meet his family along with their pet baby alligator, standard poodle, four toy poodles, and two spider monkeys (the donkey had moved to a farm at this point). That young man was my father; his bride, my mother. My mother grew up in South East Asia, you would think nothing could surprise her. Well, the alligator and monkeys did.

Stories about all of the crazy pets we've had and the equally crazy things they have done, have been one of the driving forces behind our family stories (the other force would be the equally crazy things the humans in our family did). All of my life we had tons of pets. Before my brother was born, we had two dobermans (one was a runaway show dog who had been so spoiled by his short time with my mother, his owners couldn't keep him after they found him), a black cat, two parakeets, tropical fish, a rabbit, and multiple gerbils (my poor teen uncle had no idea he was giving me a male and a female). This was all in a small rental house.

When I met Rob, he'd never really had many pets. He'd had farm animals in his teens, but had never met a family who treated animals like parts of the family. I brought him home to meet my Connecticut family for Thanksgiving. I had already warned him about the copious amounts of drinking and tomfoolery. I even warned him that my father would put black olive in his eyes and sing "Tomorrow" (he thought he looked like Annie from the comic). I warned him that everyone would talk over each other and joke and laugh,and it would all be insanely overwhelming. I had forgotten about the animals.

At this point my grandparents had two toy poodles, a macaw, and a cockatoo. After years of being attacked by the "demonic cotton balls" that the four toy poodles turned out to be, two was nothing. I really didn't think the animals would factor into our visit. My family was not a subtle bunch. If they thought something, they said it. Case in point: we all sat down to dinner and the cockatoo started screaming. My grandmother yelled "God dammit, shut up before I put you in the oven and cook you like the turkey!" The bird wasn't scared a bit. As a matter of fact, she unlocked her cage, walked out into the dining room, climbed up on my grandfather's shoulder, and spent the rest of the meal rocking back and forth and screaming. Later, Rob got to meet the macaw during "happy hour." Barney got his own shot glass full of vodka and tonic while Papa had his. After his vodka tonic, Barney's pupils would dilate while he screeched "Wheee!" Papa would make the bird a tin foil cape and he would lift up his wings to be the "Budweiser Bird." After that, I am surprised that the boy still decided to marry me.

Truthfully, he loved my crazy family. He understood that even when they unintentionally hurt each other and me, there was still a lot of love there. Rob himself has always had a ton of love to give. He couldn't wait to get our first dog. She became our practice baby. From that moment, we decided that our house couldn't be a home without pets. Currently, we are the keeper of Buffy, the terrier with ADHD; Tuck, the daredevil turtle; Trixie, the insomniac rabbit, and Jacques, the friendly Beta fish. We are notorious for keeping animals alive waaay longer than their life expectancy (we kept a dwarf rabbit alive for 10 years), raising animals with special needs (our Dobie with a brain disorder gets her own post), and spoiling them all rotten. They keep us me busy, but also give us so much joy. Many nights are peppered with the exclamation of "Look at the dog!" (or if you're me "Look at the turtle!").  Sure there are drawbacks (it is very hard to find someone to watch that many animals, so we can go on vacation together, and my house smells a little gamey), but they are worth it (I have invested in an awesome steam cleaner for starters). I have no doubt that both of my daughters will grow up to have a house full of animals. Really (in my humble opinion), there is no better way to teach children to love, than to fill their lives with furry and scaly siblings.

Redemption

Just a little virtual fist pump here. I finally got the two fillings done today. After the Novocaine finally kicked in (my poor dentist started drilling and my hand shot up so fast to stop him, he flew backwards), it was pretty quick. he asked for the camera to take some pictures and I was waiting to be told/shown that I needed to do more. After it was all over, he showed me the pictures and explained that these cavities were not my fault. My teeth have deep grooves and are almost impossible to clean. He praised my flossing (yes!!!!) and told me my gums were in great shape. The crappy part is eventually the tooth will need to be pulled because it will cause bone damage. Luckily that probably won't happen until I am a very old lady.

Finding Our Way

Yesterday was the first step in my oldest daughter's journey of spreading her wings and flying away from home. She left for a two week trip to Great Britain. We are so very excited for her. I know this will be the trip of a life time for her. I also know my girl, and at some point being in close quarters with the many people will get on her nerves. The awesome thing about maturity is she can push past that and have a wonderful time. I am almost more worried about her missing her boyfriend than us. He is such a sweet boy. He came with us to see her off. Lily spent yesterday hiding in the basement. I suspect that she is going to really miss her big sister.

After the drop off, I went out for dinner and drinks with some of the other mothers. I have yet to figure out what makes it so difficult for me to navigate conversations with other mothers. I do think my hearing has a lot to deal with it. I always end up at the end of the table in crowded restaurants. I spend a lot of time smiling, nodding analyzing the bits that I heard, and putting the conversation together in my head. By the time I've done all of that, the conversation has moved on. One of the mothers is a special education teacher and she and I had read and reposted the same article about the DOE's new testing plans for children with special needs. We talked a lot about that. I think that explains my other block. I am just a bit obsessed with teaching.

At one point they all pulled out their phones to check final grades which had just been posted. I didn't. You could insert a joke about helicopter parents here, but you could also just as easily have painted me as a distracted/uninvolved parent. I don't think either fits. I knew Caroline's grades because she is just a bit obsessed with her GPA (as she should be), and I didn't need the frustration of trying to get to the Internet on my phone. I can text and play Burds (easily the most addictive game ever), but browsing on my phone? Not so much.

I guess the biggest thing is conversation topics. When other parents request educational advice, I am all in. I love to talk about education. I would really love to talk about movies, TV, and music. It is just hard finding adults with the same interests as me. Really, most of my tastes run along the same lines as a sophisticated teenager. The one thing that I tend to not talk about would be my kids. I keep it all very general. It is the same philosophy as the blog: their stories are not my stories. Once you put something out there, it cannot be taken back. It would be so easy for people to get the wrong idea about my girls based on my stories. Lily would seem like a brat, Caroline would seem angelic. They are so much more complicated than that. Anything I would say would be pale and two-dimensional. There really is no way to put into words the awesomeness that is my girls (or any kids). Besides, once you say something or put it in print it never goes away. I am not just my girls mother, I am their PR rep. It is up to me to represent them in the best possible light.

But, more than that, I am Melissa, a person in her own right. Very soon (so much sooner than I am ready for) I will be moving into the next stage in my life. I will always be a mother, but it will not always be my chief responsibility. The same goes for teaching. I need to find a way to continue to be at peace with myself and follow the things that I am passionate about.

This Summer I Will Chill (even if it kills me)

This blog used to be funny. My life used to be funny. I guess it still is, but now it is in that wincing way. You know how you inhale sharply before laughing when you see someone get hit in the privates on a video clip show? Yeah, like that.

It was the first day of summer break here. Well actually Friday was, but we were at Great Wolf Lodge with Lily's scout troop. Lily had fun. Me? Well places like that are hard. I swear I lose more hearing every year. I kept finding myself bending down trying to hear one child or another in the wave pool while trying not to fall out of my bathing suit. I tried one water slide. Of course it made me so dizzy, I fell over on Lily's co leader and staggered off of the ride like a drunken sailor. It was worth it to see Lily have fun.

Anyway, today. We went back over to the school to finish cleaning out my room. Of course I will need to go back tomorrow because I forgot to bring the keys that I need to turn in. I have a reputation for forgetting one thing or another and dragging out the entire check out process. And Caroline wondered why people looked so surprised when she told everyone that we would be packed up and out of my room by 4:00 last Thursday. I did clear out 20 years worth of files. After that we drove through Taco Bell.

I spent the rest of my day organizing the things that I need to organize for school into crates so the organization process will be easier (did you follow that?). After that I tackled the bathrooms, and laundry, and picked up the den. I went through all of the end of school papers (at least I thought so then I found one more stupid backpack hiding under the bench).

I also watched the turtle demonstrate his new flying demo. Seriously. He climbs onto the plastic cover that is designed to keep him in the tank and sits there with his legs, arms, and head stretched out. He looks like Superman. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to name him after a Wonder Pet. Buffy had fun playing her favorite game, "Roll In the Clean Laundry and Play Dumb While Mom Yells." I did get to watch a TV show while I folded laundry.

I also managed to get Lily to read one chapter of My Father's Dragon. She retold the chapter perfectly, although in a British accent and with voices for each character.

I finished the day by making hot dogs that no one wanted to eat. So I threw caution to the wind and let them have watermelon for dinner.

When Rob got home, he asked what I did with my day off. After I told him he replied "So your summer vacation starts tomorrow?" Sure, honey, right after I make the latest round of doctors appointments and empty the dishwasher and start the next load of laundry....

In Search of Impossible Answers

When you are a very curious worry wart, the sort whose mind constantly tumbles with one "what if?" after another, the Internet can be a very dangerous place. It is the modern day rabbit hole and here I am Alice in mother form trying to find the answers. Thanks to modern technology, Facebook never lets me forget which questions I have searched. I am still getting ads for the best natural delousing products (this from my quest this winter), modest clothes for preteens (this one done on behalf of a friend), and fun retro dresses (this left over from home coming). My bookmarked pages look like those of a most unbalanced (and highly curious) individual. There are dozens of medical sites (ADHD, diabetes, skin care, hair care, the dangers of food additives, natural anxiety treatments, and of course cancer treatments), directions for the keeping of ants, turtles, Beta fish, rabbits, dogs, teen aged children, and not so teen aged children, dozens of recipes that I may never get to, shopping sites for practical shoes, comfortable and funky clothes, book reviews, blogs by other awesome mothers, movie reviews, TV show reviews, home repair sites that I can't possibly follow, and multiple weather sites.

The older I get, the more frustrated my family becomes by these lists, worries, questions. And I wonder why Lily is so curious, perhaps she is my child after all. Knowing the answers helps. The answers are a compass in the storm, they give me a direction. When you are a person who is easily lost, directions are very important. The Internet is a GPS for my brain. My brain might frustrate those nearest to me, but the older I get the more I relish and celebrate it. This brain keeps a family running AND teaches a first grade class AND runs a team of first grade teachers AND, well you get the picture. I don't have ADD, but I can so relate to those who do. We are both multi-taskers. Maybe not always in an efficient manner, but we are.

I am so glad that my brain and I are reaching some kind of an understanding. We are finally becoming a team. I know myself, so I can't be tripped up by myself (or if I am I can reach peace with it more quickly). I hope this makes sense. Sometimes, I think that it is impossible to understand my ramblings unless you too have a rambling mind. All of this leads to Lily. My amazing, beautiful, impossible Lily. 

Third grade was so very rough for her. She was sick, she was overwhelmed, and yet she pushed on. She came out having learned so much. None of which can be measured by state achievement tests (six tests on four years worth of learning, really?!). She has learned how to find us when she is overwhelmed in public (by taking a walk, a break, a joke, or even a private snide remark). The next step is to teach her to take a break while staying in the room. She has learned to handle teasing from children who feel they are brighter than her (and yet seemed to miss learning manners and compassion). That one is probably the one I am proudest of. She doesn't shut down or get angry. She fixes them with a steely stare and proceeds on her way. No one does aloof better than my daughters and I. I explained that she will have to deal with this all of her life. People seem to want to "fix" my child. I stopped sharing her struggles and simply proceed forth. Who defines normal? My child is being herself, and that is her normal. I have lived with misconceptions myself. Someone told me a couple of weeks ago "You are really sweet and adorable, but I don't understand you." Of course this was after she watched me rescue a stranded butterfly. But I am who I am. I have no one to impress, but myself.

So my job this summer is to teach Lily to impress herself. I will continue to push her to tackle the things that scare her and push through the things that bore her. We promised her that if she reads 25 books and practices math everyday, she can get her ears pierced. Lily never makes thing easy or does things the way I would do them, but she will get them done. She is going to need to find her own rabbit hole and navigate her Wonderland. I have no doubt that she will do just fine.

The Last Good Day

I went with a "mommy friend" to see The Fault in Our Stars tonight. My family was waiting when I got home to see if I'd cried. Well of course I did, it was a sad movie. I never try to hide or avoid crying at sad books/movies/TV shows/news stories/commercials. Sad is a relevant and important emotion. When you are sad you cry, enough said. I have had many reasons to be sad this school year (I always keep track of years by school and not calendar). I have been reading some beautiful and sad books that deal with death and aging (check out Carrie Brown, she is such a beautiful "speaks to your heart without being trite" writer).

Caroline and I had finished The Fault in Our Stars right before Mom was diagnosed. In some ways the book helped us deal with it. Mom's cancer journey was different than most you see in movies/TV/books because there really wasn't closure. She fought hard and was going to be angry if we said anything about saying goodbye. When she was in the hospital the last time, the nurses kept telling me to tell her it was ok to let go. There was no way I was going to do that. Do you know how pissed off she would have been?

The movie reminded me of the idea of "the last good day." It is the last clear day in a dying person's life. That brief moment when they are completely themselves again. For me, the last good day was probably Mother's Day. That was the last time we all sat around the table laughing and eating frozen yogurt. It was before the cancer came back with a vengeance, stealing everything my mother had left (dignity, security, hope, clarity) bit by bit. It was the last time she looked at me and said "The doctor doesn't know how strong I am. I can beat this." It was also our last picture. After that, Mom was too tired, sick, and weak to want her picture taken.

I know from experience that the bitterness of sadness eventually mingles with the sweetness of  memories, until you have bittersweet, and until remembering doesn't hurt quite so much. On so many levels, I have lived in such a bitter sweet life, but how lucky I am to have had the sweet.