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Archive for the ‘Musings and Epiphanies’ Category

Oldest son had his first baseball game of the season tonight.  Such a feeling of Americana came over me.  Children were running around the ball fields screaming and having fun.  Parents were walking dogs, cheering on their kids, and taking lots of pictures.  Older teens were skipping rocks in the stream that runs along the back of the park.  Oldest son’s team lost (13-11) but he asked if we could celebrate his first game.  To an eight year old, this means a trip to McDonald’s.

After dinner the boys went straight to bed.  I hopped on the old internet and read some more about the late great Dick Clark.  He was and is a part of Americana.  One piece I read mentioned Peggy Sue Got Married and the comment about him never looking older or never aging (I forget the exact quote).  I always think of the lines from When Harry Met Sally.  Harry is alone on New Year’s Eve and he’s watching the ball drop.  In his voice-over he says something like this being good, “…You’ve got Dick Clark, that’s tradition.”

My memories of Dick Clark are not specific events (except for the line from Harry) but rather a series of vague memories.  The main thing I remember is that my mom and I bonded and connected early on because of Dick Clark.  We’d watch American Bandstand and my mom would tell me about the music she liked and what she listened to growing up.  Music was always something we talked about and I still connect to music from the 70s really easily.  Plus my uncle was a DJ at a local radio station at the time.  He’d play “Wildfire” by Michael Martin Murphey for me during his shift.  Of course, I now know that due to the long length, he may have said it was for me, but he probably played it so he could run to the bathroom. “American Pie”, “Hotel California”, and “Bohemian Rhapsody” were all good bathroom songs for DJs.  But still the piano in “Wildfire” is haunting to me.  I love the music from the 70s-the singer/songwriters.  I am not a big fan of the popular/Top 40 music of today.  I sound so cliche saying that, but it’s true.  The songs today don’t seem to have discernible melodies unless it’s from a musical.  I’m sure it’s artistic and will be appreciated for the changes it brought to the music industry one day, but overall it sounds like noise to me.

But when I was a youngin’, Dick Clark helped introduce me to music and create a special life-long bond with my mom.  Americana grew richer through his work.  I’ve been floating in the 70s all day and the ballpark was filled with a 70s vibe tonight.  Children making up games to pass the time as a sibling played ball.  Cheers coming from different directions.  Lots of “good try” and “good job” and “baseball ready” filled the air.  Youngest son had a hot dog.  I do believe that’s a federal law.  Six-year-olds must eat a hot dog at the ball park.  Hot dogs at the ball park on a warm spring evening.  Boys and Americana.

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When we last left off, Gentle Reader, you were left in suspense as to whether or not I would return to work.  Okay, not that much suspense, obviously I went back to work (I mean, seriously, walk away from a job in this economy?).  Work was pleasant and fun and amazingly busy.  That’s what happens when you take off four days with only three more weeks before finals.  So the day flew by and Thursday evening was filled with oldest son’s little league practice.  After we got home, I experienced the most awkward couple of hours with my sons.  We didn’t quite know how to be with each other.  I think they were wondering what I would do and I didn’t want to overdo it in an attempt to compensate for the previous evening.  It was over and done with and at least one of the three of us had apologized for her behavior.

On Friday afternoon, my hubby brought the boys to work and the boys got to participate in game night with the tutors.  Oldest son made a board game and some of the tutors played it with him.  Youngest son played Doodle Dice with me and one of the tutors (who jumped in when I had to get stuff).  Then oldest son joined in on a game of Scrabble while three other tutors finished a challenging game of Tribond Kids (yes, I brought the kids edition.  Go get the adult edition and you’ll see how hard it is).  I enjoyed watching my sons hang out with my “other” children.  The awkwardness was still there with my sons, very faint now but still lingering.  They were truly well behaved there and everyone in the office was so very sweet to them.

We rode home and I didn’t talk much.  Didn’t have much to say.  Oldest son was sweet and tried to make small talk.  Youngest son was the strong silent type and simply stared out the window.  When we got home, we unloaded the rocket-sled and once we were inside, my sons asked to play Scrabble.

Well, I love Scrabble.  This was great to have someone to play with and we set up the board.  I had realized at work that my deluxe edition rotating Scrabble board is older than the tutors and yet here I was playing a game with my sons.  They are pretty good at it and came up with some surprising words.  Youngest son successfully and independently played the “x” by way of the word “fox”.  Quite proud.  Oldest son successfully and independently played zoo when faced with the challenging “z” tile.  They asked why some of the tiles have little chew marks on them and, as I had to the tutors, I told them of how Anakin, one of our dearly departed felines, loved to chew wood.  Eventually the game ended, and after I had tucked them into bed I realized the awkwardness had ended too.

We played games throughout the weekend, pulled weeds in two of the gardens, and stayed up late Saturday night watching Indiana Jones movies.  Today we enjoyed church, attempted to swim in Pop-pop’s really cold pool, visited Pop-pop, and had dinner at Friendly’s.  Showers and teeth brushing were followed by another game of Scrabble before they crawled into bed.  As they climbed into bed they complimented each other on their good sportsmanship.  I think that was reverse psychology intended for me since I had gotten grumpy when one of them played a word using the “e” I needed for a double-word score play of “zebra”.  The game ended with the “z” still amongst my unplayed tiles.

So now that my “staycation” is officially over, my house is no cleaner (somehow it’s messier), my to-do list is no shorter (somehow it’s longer), but my sons have fallen in love with Scrabble and I have fallen in love with them all over again.

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Oldest son got out of the bathtub, wrapped towels around himself with a little help, and went to his room to put on pajamas.  Youngest son said no.  He declared he wasn’t getting out of the tub even when I offered to help with his towels.  Five minutes passed and I offered again (my mistake).  His response was that he staying in the tub for the next two days.  Stupidly I offered a third time (again my mistake).  It was a sincere conversation on my end to understand what made him want to stay in the tub.  I told him this was it and he said no.  I opened the door and started walking out of the bathroom when he said yes (his mistake).

The fury that unleashed from me was frightening.  This is the exact problem we have been working on and while it seemed he was learning, he tested me tonight and he won.  I kid myself everyday that I don’t feel guilty about working.  And tonight knowing I have to leave them again tomorrow morning to go spend the day with other people’s kids put the guilt into overdrive.  I will never stop feeling guilty about working out of the house.  I can rationalize it all the different ways that I do, but in the end I feel like I am not being the mother I should be.

According to the picture wall in my living room my sons are still three and five.  In reality they are six and eight.

I said to people just today how I don’t feel guilty about going back to work tomorrow.  I wrote recently that I don’t feel like I’ve missed things.

I am lying.  It breaks my heart.  And when each vacation ends, I feel sick.

I am thankful for all of our blessings.  I know to have a job right now is truly a blessing.  And I have a good job.  It doesn’t change the fact that I want to be home with my sons.  So I create this stupid drama.  I suppose in the juvenile part of my mind I think it will make it easier to separate myself from them.  And you know the stupidest thing of all is I don’t think they really care.  They’ve completely adapted to me not being home.  Yes, they say they miss me, they say they wish I were home, but I think they are fine when I’m not here.  It’s me.  When will I find a way to truly balance having to be a mom who works?

Do I stop taking vacations so I don’t have to relive how I felt on my first day at the job?

Do I play the lottery every day?

Do I go back to the patchwork-full-time-through-several-part-time jobs again?

Do I suck it up and cry on my way to work again tomorrow?

I look back at the choices in my life and I know that I couldn’t change any because then my sons might not be here.  The path I have walked is the path I was supposed to and three of the best parts of this path are my hubby and two sons.  I wouldn’t change anything because it might change them.

I need to keep my temper in check.  I need to draw patience and grace always.  I need to accept that I am a mom who works even though she would love to be home when her sons get home from school and on their days off and have as much time is needed to focus on them.

I have to suck it up and cry on my way to work again tomorrow.  And keep hoping to win the lottery.  But not in a monkey’s paw kind of way.

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Today I slept in till 9:30 and it was lovely.  The boys had grabbed breakfast and were watching cartoons.  I took a leisurely morning and then gave the boys Jurassic Park chores.  You may recall, Gentle Reader, that we let the boys but a large lot of JP toys on credit with the bank of Mom & Dad.  They have chores to work off the balance.  Younger son did an outstanding job cleaning the lower kitchen cabinets (he even earned a “cash” bonus).  The boy loves to clean!  He got that from me, that’s for darn sure.  Oldest son was told to clean the bathroom sink and bathtub.  He got his cleaning genes from his daddy, that’s for darn sure.  But he tried.  He just doesn’t love cleaning like me and younger son.  We’re both a little bit Monk and Monica Geller.  Younger son’s face had pure joy as he saw the food stains coming off the wood.  He asked for fresh water.  He used different “scrubbing” techniques (he explained them to me…so cute).  He was so intently focused, it made me smile to watch him.

I worked on the dinosaur room.  You can see oldest son’s desk.  It’s amazing.  You can see most of the floor.  We agreed (otherwise known as I decided and convinced them it was their idea) that we would narrow down the toys.  I can’t get them to do it.  They try, but being the little pack-rats that they are, they can’t let go of things.  They got that from both mommy and daddy.  So I’m doing it.  They’ll be keeping Jurassic Park toys, Legos, K’Nex (they just received three sets of those from friends and they’re loving them!), trains, and Pokemon cards.  The other piles are being sorted through and will be donated appropriately.  Junk will simply be tossed as it should be.

I put two large objects that were littering the backyard out to the curb last night.  No one took them which tells you the state they were in!  The yard looks nicer already.  I need to put out my shade garden but it desperately needs more mulch.  I had hoped to work in the yard, but it has been so bloody windy that it hasn’t worked out.  Supposedly this weekend will be nice and warm, so I’ll clean the yard Saturday.

A friend came over this afternoon.  We hadn’t seen each other for quite a bit and it was a lovely visit.  I’m going to make her costume for Comic-Con.  I cannot wait to pull my dressmaker’s form down from the attic.  I haven’t used it for several years but you don’t get rid of something like that.  I miss sewing.  But it’s not as if I couldn’t be doing it.  I simply don’t make the time so this is a wonderful way to get back into it.

I am slowly coming to realize how much time I can fill on my own because all of a sudden my boys don’t need me the way they used to need me.  Obviously they still need me, but they both have their own things they are doing.  This staycation has shown me how much they have grown up.  I guess I’ve grown up a bit too because it’s not making me sad.  I’m not cursing myself for “missing it” but starting to realize that whatever time we have together is good time.  I’m able to be there for the BIG things but also for the little moments that truly make up life.  I’m in a nice place.

The vitamin D seems to be working.  I can make it till around 8pm without severe pain if I take short breaks in the day.  I’m not just sitting in the chair at 6pm and asking the boys to bring the stuff to me.  I still hurt but the amount of pain killers I’ve been taking has dropped dramatically.  I’m able to be on my feet longer, although the legs still don’t work like they used to work.  Maybe one day…

It was a lovely day of simplicity.  Another day off tomorrow…what will the day hold?  I know one thing for certain…simplicity.

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Oldest son called out very excitedly this evening.  What could it be, I wondered.  He shouted that there was a mealworm!  He first got his mealworms, larvae, and beetles about four months ago.  I think all but one made it to beetle.  For a while there were only beetles and apparently they were busy (wink, wink, nudge, nudge, say no more).  He is very excited but now I wonder how does one care for newborn baby mealworms?  I emailed oldest son’s teacher and asked for advice.  She saw how much he loved her worms (she brought them into class) so she gave him his own starter colony!

I’m very proud of him.  He really dedicated himself to taking care of these critters.  He loves that he owns arthropods.  He quotes Walking with Dinosaurs, narrated by the beloved Kenneth Branagh, “the arthropods are back!”  I do think part of the motivation came from wanting an even more exotic pet based on his successful care of the beetles.  Another part of oldest son’s motivation is that it demonstrates he is older than his brother.  Finally, he truly thinks they are cool and fun to watch.

And they are fun to watch.  I didn’t think they would be as interesting as they are.  Oldest son will probably start negotiations for a larger, reptilian type pet.  That will open the floodgates for youngest son to chime in as well.  Ah, I wonder what other little creatures will be dwelling alongside the mealworms in our home soon.

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and it’s lovely.  I am really enjoying not having a lot of specific plans.  We did do stuff over the weekend, but we were relaxed about the timing of arrivals.  Just having fun.

Speaking of fun, who else had an adorable 8-year-old wake you up at 4:00 am to look for Easter baskets? Yep, he beat his Christmas time by 15 minutes.  I made him cuddle with me for a couple of hours and then let him wake up his brother to look for baskets.  They liked the “grown-up” watches the Easter Bunny brought them.  Water-resistant with a glowy light when you push the button.  Too big for their skinny wrists, but I’ll adjust the straps.

Church was lovely.  The boys ate a lot of food at the breakfast.  Younger son was cuddly and quiet during church and older son enjoyed the music.  I loved the song based on Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy”, which is one of my favorites.

Younger son is not liking the ten minutes in the bedroom when he acts like a baby with ten additional minutes for each poor reaction to the initial ten minutes.  But it is having a slight impact.  He has still acted like a baby but it doesn’t last as long and it is less frequent.

Now oldest son has been initiating conversations (why is it always at bedtime?) about peer pressure, popularity, and self-confidence.  It breaks my heart to hear his worries and struggles and that no one hangs with him at recess.  He says he wanders around and talks to himself.  I suggested the obvious (don’t talk to yourself in an obvious way so other children may feel more comfortable approaching you) and he giggled a bit.  I wish I could build a big wall around him with a moat around the wall to protect him, but I can’t.  If I do that, he won’t learn on his own and some things you have to learn through experience.  The best I can do is hug him when he needs it, have tissues handy, and make sure he giggles by the end of our conversation.

Back to life happening while not busy making other plans.

Happy Easter!

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“Is he going on a crazy psycho rampage creating a raging tornado of destruction?”  That’s what younger son said today on the way to Little League.  Where do they get this stuff from?

A goal while I am on this little stayation (that’s right…I’m on vacation.  I don’t go back to work till next Thursday!  Whoo!) is to work on younger son’s conditioned responses.  Not the brilliant one he came out with earlier today, but the “I’m the baby and I’m gonna play you” responses.  He still likes to hit his head if he doesn’t get his way, he lives to change his mind 30 times in 5 minutes (I want to go with you, I want to stay home, I want to go with you, I want to stay home), and he whips up tears amazingly fast.  This boy does not like the word “no” and he’s gotta get over that.

I get to spend so much time with them for the next six days.  It will recharge me and hopefully recharge them as we slow time down and do one thing at a time and do it as well as we can.  Including having fun.  No big plans but rather living by the words of John Lennon-“life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans”.  No plans being made…just enjoying life.

And most definitely sleeping in tomorrow.  The first day since December when I can truly sleep in and not be late to something.  I am giddy with antici…(wait for it) …pation.  And sleepy.

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If you haven’t read the post titled It, read that one first because this one piggybacks onto that post.  If you choose not to read It first, don’t complain to me when this post makes no sense.

What an un-attentive reader I’ve been.  I usually study the cover art of a King book to predict what clues it could hold.  Yes, I am that dorky.  I make my predictions.  Only a few minutes ago I summoned up the courage to put the dust jacket back on 11/22/63 to put it back on the shelf.  As I gently wrapped the jacket around the back cover of the book, I looked at the news articles on that side.  I read beyond the titles of the articles for the first time.  I read the reporters’ names.  The name of the reporter for the story titled “Americans Breathe Sigh of Relief” is Philip.

Philip Scudder.

This time I was literally stopped in my tracks as I was walking toward the bookshelf.

Never falling asleep tonight.

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One of my favorite parts of the full body of work by Uncle Stevie is his ability to intertwine his stories together.  If you read Apt Pupil, the Nazi’s accountant is a fancy banker named Andy Dufrense before he ended up in Shawshank.  There are the many stories that take place in Castle Rock.   A fictional town that has had its share of bad luck.  To me it’s fun because I’m in on the joke, so to speak.  I get the cross-references and it usually makes me recall another character, event, or emotional response to his writing from the past that makes me smile, or grimace as the case may be.  And as I’ve written before (I think), Uncle Stevie’s books help me to sleep.  I feel comforted knowing my lot in life is not as bad as the characters.  It soothes me.  Gives me perspective.

I got 11/22/63 for Christmas.  Big bulking book from dear Stephen King.  I opted not to put this one into the reserves.  My reserves are select titles by Uncle Stevie that are unread for the day when the man finally does stop putting pen to paper.  I want to still have a “new” King book to read.  But for whatever reason 11/22/63 made it into the reading pile.  It’s not a very deep pile as I am realistic about how much time I have for reading.

The past few Sundays I have taken the book with me and read while the boys were having their swim lessons.  I’ll be honest-it took a few tries to get hooked.  What I wonder at this exact moment is did I take a while to get hooked because I was keeping an eye on my sons in the pool or because I felt the fear the book would create?

For me, there was something uneasy about the book from the get-go.  Obviously from the cover it involved changing the events of that historic day in Dallas.  I don’t know how that turns out by the way.  Because tonight I got to page 129 and was stopped dead in my tracks.  Or was it eyeballs?  Stopped dead in my eyeballs?  Even now as I checked the book to see the page number I touched it as if I would be burned.

Uncle Stevie wrote about Georgie Denbrough on page 129.  He wrote about Pennywise.  I have a picture of Tim Curry as Pennywise on my desk that one of my students gave me.  It’s of Pennywise  photoshopped into the movie for Bring It On.  You see the humor, I’m sure.  Made me laugh my ass off when I first saw it.  I enjoyed the movie version of It.  Not stellar but it doesn’t hurt to watch on a Saturday afternoon.  I love the cast, but the problem with trying to put It on film is the terror is too deep (in my humble opinion) to capture.  So while I like the movie, the book is what scared the crap out of me and continues to in so many ways.

I connected to this book instantly.  I could have joined the Losers club easily.  Probably could have been a charter member.  I held onto my faith in the belief system of childhood for a very long time.  Truth be told, I still have more of a childlike belief system than an adult one.  I love this book and hate this book.  The magic of childhood and the horror of childhood vividly live in the characters with such ease.  I see myself reflected in each of the characters.  I see myself reflected in the words typed on the many, many pages.  I have read this book several times but the most recent time I read it happened over a decade ago.  I don’t know when I will reread it.  I know I will, but I don’t know when.  Once I gave birth to my second son I knew it would be quite a long time till I could read It again.  When their childhoods are over and safely tucked away in baby books and scrapbooks, I’ll be able to read It again.  That was the plan.  I wouldn’t have to interact too closely with the horrors of It for another decade.

Then Uncle Stevie wrote about Georgie in 11/22/63.  I couldn’t even finish the sentence I was reading.  The story of It came flooding back into my mind, heart, and soul so quickly, it was, if you’ll pardon the expression, a watershed moment.  I started shaking as all the events in that book flooded my mind at one time.  I saw it coming with the first mention of the town of Derry, but thought there’s no way he could really intertwine it with any detail.  I tried to recall details, like names or places, but all I could picture were the Barrens and the standpipe.  I thought no biggie, a few passing mentions of Derry.   But I was wrong.  I couldn’t even finish the sentence.

I was sitting there on my couch, shaking, crying, trying to catch my breath because Uncle Stevie knocked the wind out of me.  After a few minutes, I walked down the hall, turned on the light with the pretty frosted glass dome, and with a sense of fear and doom went in to check on my sons.  Both sleeping soundly in the shark bedroom, both audibly breathing that deep and constant breathing of a sleep not filled with worry or fear.  I still put my hand on each boy’s chest to feel the steady rise and fall of his lungs filling with and emptying of air.

How does this man do it?  How does he summon up fear so readily in so many people?  I don’t know if I’ll sleep tonight.  I’m not being facetious.  I don’t know if I’ll be able to fall asleep.  Each time I close my eyes, I see It.  In all of its forms.  I see Georgie, Bill, and Bev.  The pharmacist-ooh, maybe that’s why I don’t care for pharmacists. Oh, gentle reader, if I could convey how frightened this man made me this evening I too would make my living putting pen to paper.

I want to know how the book ends-please don’t be an ass and write it in a comment.  I will finish 11/22/63.  But it will have to wait until it’s not dark.  And when I can hear my boys playing the whole time.  I don’t even want to touch the book to put it back in the Stephen King bookshelves.  Yes, he has his own private bookshelves in my house.

Georgie and his paper boat.  The rain.  The sewer.  We all float down here.  I didn’t know until this evening how deeply It had worked it’s way into my being.  I love that about books, a story’s ability to infiltrate your memory and linger with you the rest of your life.  The stories pop up into your daily existence usually when you least expect it, as those types of things are wont to do.  As I probably wrote before, to paraphrase Uncle Stevie from an old interview (or foreword or afterword), everyone has a filter in their brain that sorts through each day’s events.  Certain things fall through and others are too big to fit through the holes of the sieve.  The scary stuff stays in his brain so that’s what he writes about in his stories.  And I love to read the scary stuff so it’s been a long relationship for the two of us.  I just couldn’t have guessed how large It was to allow it to linger so closely to my retrievable memory.  To be able to be pulled forth in a violent manner after reading only a few sentences describing some key events in the history of Derry.

I need to know what happens next.  But during the day.  With the sun shining.  Happily I have some vacation time this week into next.  Maybe one of the days will be sunny.  I can hole up in my room, with the covers wrapped around me, and read where the storyteller wants to take me.

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I had a thought today.  I know, there’s an accomplishment right there.  I reflected about mediocrity once again.  It’s not always a bad thing.  If one is mediocre in a particular area, you don’t have to achieve anything all that amazing within that area.  The bar is most definitely lowered and the pressure is off of you.  So as I reflect about my strengths and weaknesses, pressures are falling off in all directions.

I’m not saying I’m mediocre at everything.  I can’t think of anything at the moment that I excel at, but that’s besides the point.  The point is that the extreme pressures I put on myself all the time are not necessary.  People have been telling me this for years (my hubby in particular) but this is the type of moment that one has to come to in her own time.  I suspect it will take several weeks for it to really sink in, but at the moment it’s a nice realization.

One thing I’m good at that improves my lot in life in no way is pulling obscure quotes from movies.  I can’t actually do anything with this ability, but it does give me a good chuckle when I need it.  I’m also not bad at Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon.  Years of video retail does this to one’s brain.  Years of watching movies does it.  I adore movies.  I stopped relaxing when I watch them over the past few years.  Don’t know why, I suppose I’ll ponder that soon enough.

Another thing I’m good at is reading.  Is that the dorkiest sentence you’ve ever read, or what?  But I recall the stuff I’ve read, like I do with quotes from a movie.  I can recall the story, details, and characters in almost a flashback by simply looking at the book.  It’s like a quick catch-up with an old friend.

I visited some old friends today at Tookey’s Bar.  I reread “One for the Road” and actually relaxed while reading the story.  It was nice.  I love Uncle Stevie’s vernacular in this story.  The one character uses “I says” a lot.  There’s a “since Hector was a pup” in the story too.  Plus the vampires don’t hurt.

Today I reflected on mediocrity, did laundry, drove Mom’s taxi, read a little.  I embraced the simplicity of mediocrity.  Today was a mediocre day and that’s not bad.

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