Good Enough

When I’m in the car and the kids are locked into their seats I experience a certain feeling of euphoria.

It’s a time when I know they’re not getting into anything, they may be yelling at each other but they can’t hurt one another, really it’s fantastic.

Other moms may take this oppurtunity to get to know their children on a deeper level. They may use the time their children are strapped down to impart further light and knowledge, or inoculate them with spiritual wisdom.

My hats off to these mothers, that never let a teaching moment go by.

Me? I like to turn on the radio, or play a CD.  And I’m not talking FM Disney or We Sing and Play. Sometimes I play my talk radio, while other times I’m in the mood to rock out. At these times I feel like if gas weren’t so gall durned expensive I might just keep right on driving, past my destination point, because somehow I feel like this is quality “me time.”

There’s just one thing that stops me from truly disappearing into my own world and running the mini-van on “auto-pilot…” It’s the constant chattering at me from the back seat. From the 4 and 7 year old.

“Mom, why are bears called bears?”  “Mom, what’s 102 plus 102?” “Mom, can we go to Chuckie Cheese for my next birthday party?” “Mom, in my dream last night my teeth turned to stone.” “Mom, can I go to Laylee’s house?”

And on, and on.

My first question is “When my kids see me rocking out, don’t they understand that I’m in ‘the zone?’ When I’m singing a song at the top of my lungs do they really expect me to stop and tell them why bears are called bears?” Which by the way I really don’t have an answer for anyway. Sometimes when the good song is playing on the radio, there IS NO REWIND BUTTON, or PAUSE. My song is playing and I have to see it through. DO YOU FEEL ME PEOPLE?

and Secondly…in these moments when I do answer or acknowledge them, sometimes I can’t fully hear what they’re saying, them being in the back seat and myself in the front. So I take this tactic…I simply say “mmm hmmm” to everything. But my question to YOU people is what exactly am I saying yes too? Is it that “mmm hmmm we can go to Laylee’s” or “mmm hmmmm sure we can go to Chuckie Cheese for your next birthday and throw money down the drain while we’re at it.”

I’ll never know. I’m sure I’ve promised many a splendid thing while I’m driving. What I really want to do is say, “Kids, Loveys, for the next twenty-something minutes anything I say must not be taken seriously. So if you ask for an Elephant or anything else while we’re in the car, the answer is really NO. Because for the next twenty minutes, Mom is on AUTO-PILOT.”

In the red corner…6′3 weighing in at 185 lbs!

check out the muscle on this one…the poor guy in green never had a chance…

and the winner is…

He’s the best.

At first I thought it was a phase, he was getting over his last heartbreak. But then I remembered little brother fighting with whoever he could get his hands on growing up. And I mean, as far back as I can remember.

I also recall a speed bag and large punching bag hanging from his room as a teenager. I never thought he was serious.

Until now.

Go little bro! 

And ladies, he is still looking for Mrs. Right.

Then…

and Ten years later…

I noticed my last post was awhile ago. I’ve decided when I’m too tired for words I can always post a picture, because isn’t a picture worth at least a thousand words? Is that what “they” say? I’ve decided I’ll go along with “them” and buy myself some verbage.

I love my grams. My sister Sunshine is on the left, Mom on the right. Does anyone have a Grandma like mine? She’s a witty one. I love it when she let’s a “swear word” slip…like the other day she called someone a whore. It just sounds funnier out of her mouth.
My grandma had her own column in the local newspaper, for years. She taught English and French, and directed all the town plays.
I want to be just like my Grandma.

Not only is she funny, and witty and brilliant, she’s extremely spiritual, but she doesn’t put it on me. She doesn’t lecture, she just lives by example. My Grandma.

I don’t know why but growing up I always felt like if I became this totally religious, spiritually driven person I might become a zombie…boring…uninteresting…sheep-like.  Grandma is definitely not any of those things. 

Grandma wants me to keep having babies. She loves her some babies. I tell her “Grandma! Haven’t I contributed my share yet? Why is this all on me? I have 5 other siblings that need to be nagged.”

I was looking through some of my old things. I saved letters from my Grammy. She and I were pen-pals. I think maybe I should start it up again with her…even though she only lives a mile away now. It was always fun to get letters from her, she always imparted wisdom to me in her matter-of-fact way.

There, you see what a simple picture inspires?

Nope.

It doesn’t.

But I sure wish it would. I wish that everything and everyone would just slow down.

That no one had errands, or illness, or work. 

I wish the summer would stop flying by.  Then I wouldn’t have to miss this rare, gorgeous Washington weather.

I don’t want my kids to miss out on all the things we “could” be doing.

But they are.

They are because even though mentally I’m ready to take on the world, with four children in tow, my body wants to stay put in the horizontal position.

When I was pregnant, my mind was mushy, and I couldn’t even wrap my brain around going out with the three kids. Now the clouds have cleared and I feel so able. I don’t feel scared like I did when I had my third baby. I remember feeling secretly scared for that day my husband left and went back to work. I kept waiting for that feeling to come around this time. I really don’t feel apprehensive at all. But my body is not quite there…every day I feel a little stronger.

I thought I could go to book club last night. The clock struck 8pm. I couldn’t will my body out of bed. Although the new babe which I have for blogging purposes deemed “Annie” stayed up until 1 am.

I’m almost ready to take on the world, but can’t it slow down just a tad for me?

My kids and I would be ever so grateful.

Two weeks before Mother’s Day my sister took the female children in our family out for a photo shoot. Her husband is a talented photographer, I would give you his info. but then you’d find out who I really am So if your in the Seattle Area and dying for a great photographer contact me and I’ll have him contact you. Here is my favorite…

I love having my sisters nearby, they will all be around for the “birthday” although some prefer to be in the waiting room.

So can you guess which of us is married (hopefully one is a given) which is a college co-ed and which just finished vet-assistant school, which is working on her masters and which are working on novels?

The answers in the next post.

I was up last night, silently crying for my brother who’s going through a life changing trial right now.

Although I’m not surprised by the latest family news, it really didn’t make it any easier when I lay my head on the pillow, in the dark silence, with all the thoughts allowed to run wild in my head.

What will happen to my brother. It is him who I worry about most. Will he come home to us? To his family that loves him no matter what and are ready to support him through this dark time in his life? Has it been such a long time away that he forgets we are here? Although he’s not one to talk. None of the men in my family are. It’s very frustrating.

I wish I could have good heart to heart talks with my brothers. My sisters all wear their hearts on their sleeves. There is no guessing involved. 

If my brother was the type to listen, the type to respond to conversation, I would tell him that it’s going to be okay. It’s going to work out. We love him, we’re here for him. Please ask if you need something. Please don’t try to get through this alone.

And I know that it hurts and it will for a long, long time. But don’t let this make you bitter, my brother.

I love you so much. I want happiness for you.

I cry for you, and if you know the women in this family, you know we all do.  

I’ve always loved a good movie or story about a strong female that can take care of herself. It’s nice when the male she is involved with rescue’s her, but if he’s getting pummeled by 7 ninja’s, I don’t want to see her standing to the side screaming.

I try to emulate these females in my own life. For instance; No Doubt Concert 1997, my little brother (who is not so small) got into a fight in the mosh pit with some military boy. Who was there to jump the guy from behind and gouge out his eyes thus preventing him from taking a swing at little bro? That’s right, yours truly.

Early last December, on a Thursday evening, Western Washington was hit with a gnarly wind storm. 60-80mph  winds swept through my little town. I thought my old house would blow apart. I thought a tree would come crashing through my children’s window and crush them in their beds. Too make matters worse Mr. Good was ill. I was scared because when he gets ill like he was on this night, he can’t keep anything down and we’ve had to take him to the hospital for dehydration. Not to mention the fact that I was fearing for our lives and I needed my husband to be coherent. 

I called my little sister, she lives less than a mile away. She was home alone, her husband was out of town. While describing my situation she mentioned she had some medicine that I could come and get, that would stop his nausea. I felt like the blind girl in ”The Village“. Ever seen that one? I love that movie. In the movie her one true love was stabbed, he was dying. He needed “medicines” from the town. No one had left the village before, and she had to brave the forest and the monsters that inhabited it to save her love. 

I put on my coat and headed out to my trusty steed…my minivan. Now by this time the town had lost all power. It was eerily quiet outside, and pitch black. Every once and awhile another huge gust of wind would sweep through the countryside.  I didn’t feel particulalry nervous about getting to my sister’s house. As I mentioned she lives less than a mile away, but as I approached the last turn to her house my way was barred by three evergreen trees that had fallen across the road. As I drove closer I saw that a power line was also under the trees. People were standing on the sidewalk watching me. I’m sure they thought I was crazy trying to drive around. But my husband NEEDED MEDICINES! FROM THE TOWN!

I was undeterred. I would get there if I had to walk, and I kicked myself for not brining a flashlight. To make a long story short I finally found my way through someones back yard, and scaled their retaining wall, digging a hole under their fence, while my sister handed me the medicines underneath it. We were in constant communication thanks to our cell phones. I think neither of us knew whether to laugh or cry at our predicament so we were laughing and screaming. I was so scared the homeowner I was behind would think I was a looter and come out and shoot me in the back with their shot gun. In all fairness I did knock on the door before proceeding through their backyard, although I didn’t knock very loudly…

In the end I did save him with my heroic deeds.

So last night, a little more than a year later, I awoke to the sounds of Mr.Good being violently ill again in the bathroom. I peeked in and his face was sheet white. He could barely stop between heaving to shake his head yes or no if a hospital visit was needed. Again I donned my jacket and mounted my steed heading towards my sister’s. Thank goodness she had ”medicines” and she answered her phone at 2 am in the morning. ”You can come get it. It’s in the fridge. I’ll be sleeping.”

I had to laugh. ”That’s usually what people do at 2 in the morning.” I said. When I came home my husband was so grateful. He looked surprised. Like I wouldn’t go to go to get him medicines from the village? He’s my one true love. So when he said “thanks” in his feeble voice, I had to laugh again. “Your welcome.” And that’s what a hero-ine does.    

It was over six years ago that I held my first baby. I remember it hitting me so clearly in a way I could never comprehend before I had children…As I looked down at my beautiful baby boy the weight of the world came crashing down around my shoulders. I then realized what I had done to myself someone that I loved so deeply that I now couldn’t imagine life without him. With that realization came some fears that I had never before comprehended.

I was almost angry with myself when I realized that if some thing horrible ever happened to my son, it would be earth shattering. The thought was overwhelming. And honestly it made me rethink having anymore children.

In life there is balance in all things, and this new love that I had never felt before came new worries that as a brand new mom I almost couldn’t handle. What if he got sick? What if it was some thing terminal? What if he was kidnapped? Selfishly I wondered if it was smart of me to create some thing so precious that it would nearly kill me to have him taken away.

I’m a fatalist deep down inside, like my Grandmother. She’s been saying for the past five years that this is her last Christmas, or birthday, or it’s probably the last time she’ll get to visit with us before she passes on. Grandma is still going strong. Whether she likes it or not, she will be around for the next few great-grandchildren.

I watched a movie with my girls last night that reminded me of my little families mortality…which is really what brought about this post. I couldn’t help thinking throughout the movie what would happen to us if my husband died…my first thoughts were… “I don’t want to be out in the dating scene again!”  What would I put in my bio line? “I am now a widow with four children…will someone come swoop in and rescue us?”  That came because I’ve been searching for my little bro. And then other thoughts like, “there will never be anyone good enough to take his place.” Thinking about my husband and how absolutely perfect he is. Then my thoughts wandered to my children. I pictured all of their beautiful faces, and the pain they would hold if they ever lost their father, or me, or each-other.

I thought about mortality. With each child we bring into this family, it adds a new dimension. The love deepens. It’s a love that only parents know, we get to be in this special club with this intense emotion wrapped up in the package. I love my husband, I love him fiercely. But we would never know how intense love could be until we took that leap of faith and added a child into the mix.

I can’t help questioning my sanity sometimes as I look at my children and think about the new one coming, why did I do this to myself? I will have four precious jewels that can never be replaced and are extremely fragile. Am I crazy for adding one more into my life that will probably add more pain and worry then someone in their right mind could handle. Maybe I am. But I realize that there is balance in all things. With another child comes even more love and more joy then I can ever put into words. I know you people feel me on this one. If I let my fears of death and pain stop me from creating what I have in my life now, I would have never known such happiness. It’s so worth it.  

So what is a woman to do that finds herself with child…and has already been stressing over getting her other three children some coverage?

She pulls herself together, that’s what she does. She swallows her pride and her innate tendency to procrastinate.

She gathers all the documents and information that she thinks they could possibly want.

She drives to the closest State office. She gathers her youngest two and marches in. She tries not to notice the people sitting around the waiting area, she doesn’t want to know what they’re thinking. The lady at the counter says she brought the wrong papers. “Your in the wrong place.” the lady says.

It’s all she can do to keep from crying. She knew this would happen.

“Where can I go to turn these in?”

“Here’s the number.” Says the lady.

Defeated she takes her children back outside. She buckles them in. She tries to swallow the lump building in her throat. She breathes. Then  she calls the number on the post-it the lady wrote down. After a brief conversation with a helpful woman, she is advised to sign up for a different kind of state funded insurance. This would bring coverage for her growing family in a more timely manner.

So what should she do? Go home, print out more forms, come back another day? No. She was in fighting mode. She wanted to get this taken care of in the most efficient manner possible. She was already at the building. She may as well go back in and demand some help. Why didn’t she deserve some help and kindness? Obviously all those people already sitting in the waiting area had more backbone. They were staying put until their troubles were to be addressed.

She felt somewhat entitled. Her husband had always paid their taxes. She volunteered in the community. She regulary gave money to local charities. She told herself there was no reason to feel ashamed. She needed this for herself and her children now. There was no room for pride here.

So she took her children back inside. She went back to the counter where a kind older man stood. “Here is my situation” she said as she tried to control the quiver in her voice. “Can’t you help me? Can you show me what to do? I promised myself I wouldn’t leave here without taking care of this.”

“You must go see the nurse. You must take a pregnancy test. Here is the paperwork. You can come back and see me when you’re done.” He said.

Back to the room they trudged. The children were exuberant. This was a great adventure for them. Into a little room with the nurse. She was old and grey, her skin was dark and her voice was gentle. This nurse had much experience with hormonal women. “What are you’re plans with this pregnancy?” the nurse asked. “Do you plan to terminate it?”

“No!” She almost shouted. But she realized many women did this. They had unexpected pregnancies and came in to seek this cruel form of birth control. “This baby is wanted.” She stated. “We have plenty of money to feed,clothe, and shelter our children. We just can’t afford the medical expense.”

She could guess what the nurse, as well as many others would think of this. Perhaps no more children should be had by families that rely on the state to cover medical costs? Isn’t three enough? She could see their point, their thought process. She couldn’t keep the tears from falling from her eyes. Was it selfish of her to want a bigger family when she was already blessed with three beautiful healthy children? She couldn’t help feeling slightly ashamed, and humiliated here in this small office where many women had come before her. But she tried to remember that someday they would be able to afford their own health care. The business was growing. Her husband was a hard worker. “Someday” she thought, “I won’t have to go through this.”

The pregnancy test was of course positive. The nurse kindly shooed them out of her office. Handing her the forms.

She took herself back to the front desk asking for further instructions.

Today she sits with a packet in her hand ready to take to the post-office. Her husband worked on it for three hours the previous night. Providing documents and receipts. She will take it in very soon and send it back to be processed with all the other applications. When it leaves her hands she will be relieved. She did what she could. Now she can only hope that soon she will receive a coupon saying she can go see a real doctor. And maybe she can take her 2 year old in for immunizations he is 1 year overdue for. And maybe every time her children get sick she won’t have to pray it doesn’t turn into infection. Maybe the pressure of diagnosing her children and wondering if they’re sick enough for a $73 doctor’s visit will be taken off of her shoulders for the next year.

For now she will turn in the papers, and then she will pray.