Today I got a friend request on Facebook from Debby P. The one and only. She was my most bestest best friend in junior high school. We used to hang out as much as possible and would talk on the phone every day for hours on end. Then one day, out of the blue, her mom told her she couldn't be friends with me anymore. To this day I do not know why. Debby just said that her mom said I was a bad influence. Me. A bad influence?
My heartbreak over the loss of Debby's friendship is one of my more vivid childhood memories, along with the heartbreaks from my other best friends.
Before Debby, there was Becky. Becky was my best friend in first grade. I remember her well. She had red hair and freckles and was poor. She didn't have many friends and the other kids made fun of her for wearing dirty clothes. I suppose we hit it off well from the start because the kids made fun of me for the way I talked. Becky broke my heart when she showed Darren (my first real crush - a blond hair, blue eyed cutie) my journal with a poem I had written for him. I was horrified that she would betray me like that.
After Debby, there was Jennifer. Jennifer and I were inseparable in high school. I would let her borrow my car and she would let me borrow her earrings. She had troubles with her mom (as most teenagers do) and I provided moral support. She was beautiful, tall and witty, which is probably why ever one of the 4 guys I had a crush on in high school ended up asking HER out. We spoke French to each other and had many sleepovers. Jennifer broke my heart when she told me I wasn't a real friend after having turned in a homework assignment without her name on it (we had been assigned to work together, but she never helped).
Aww... I find it interesting how strong those memories are. It was almost as though my "break ups" defined me more than the friendships that just fazed in and out of my life. I am blessed to have a couple friends from high school be still in my life and I can't imagine them ever "leaving" me, but when I look at the actual memories I have... there are more with the friends who broke my heart than with those who did not.
Anyway, Debby P sent me a friend request. She even politely reminded me who she was, not that I needed reminding. "Remember me? We used to talk on the phone every day until my mom told me I couldn't be your friend?" It was a polite enough reminder, but it stung. Yes of course I remember. I wanted to write back and say "Does your mom know I got a BS and an MS in Electrical Engineering? Does she know how I have had a successful career AND am a successful mother? Does she know about all the places I've traveled to? Does she know about all the money I've donated to save the world? ON MY BIRTHDAY? Does she know about the joy I'm bringing into the world from my little gnomes? What does SHE think of the "bad" influence NOW???" But that would be petty. That would be silly. Of course, all the answers to those questions aren't even "No, she doesn't know," but they're probably "Remind me again, who is Jennifer???"
Ellie has had her heart broken by her first best friend, Brynn, though they've made up since and are still very close. They're not quite as close as they once were, and if you asked Ellie who her best friend is, she would say she doesn't have one right now... but is she out for the same "lessons" in her friendship as me? Or maybe I'm not as unique as I think I am. Perhaps EVERYONE remembers the heartbreaks their once-best-friends gave them? I wonder if it affects everyone else like it does me. I wonder if it will affect Ellie and Addie like it did me.
I wonder if Ellie will one day come home crying because her favorite friend is no longer allowed to talk to her. I wonder if Addie will come home heart broken over her friend choosing a boy over her friendship. Chances are they will.
I wonder how I will respond.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Friday, December 16, 2011
$15,000
What can $15,000 get you?
Before I answer that question, let's take a step back in time for a moment.
Imagine if you will, a baby girl who has cerebral palsy from a young age of 1.5 years old. She lives with her grandma until she passes away. She then goes into foster care, but when she turns 21 she is forced into a nursing home. For old people. At 21 years old. Though she's in a wheelchair with a speech impediment, she fights to get out. Does so. Goes to college. Meets a man. Falls in love. Gets married. Has two children. She actively fights for the rights of those who are disabled, and is VERY involved in her children's lives and education. She is a strong strong woman who has overcome so much without giving it a second thought.
Now, imagine if you will, that same mother. Her clever son has asthma and sensory issues. Her bright daughter was recently diagnosed with a severe epilepsy disorder that leaves her in seizures 60-70 times daily unless she's medicated. This mother is watching her daughter slowly disappear, and yet realizes that her son still needs her too.
Let's continue, shall we? The same woman who was able to fall in love and marry was also able to fall out of love and divorce. Now she's a single mother whose ex sees the children once or twice a month. In a public setting. Enough said.
What does all of this have to do with $15,000?
That's how much this amazing woman lives off in a year. How? I have no idea. I'm still trying to figure that one out. It certainly puts things in perspective, though. Don't you think?
Before I answer that question, let's take a step back in time for a moment.
Imagine if you will, a baby girl who has cerebral palsy from a young age of 1.5 years old. She lives with her grandma until she passes away. She then goes into foster care, but when she turns 21 she is forced into a nursing home. For old people. At 21 years old. Though she's in a wheelchair with a speech impediment, she fights to get out. Does so. Goes to college. Meets a man. Falls in love. Gets married. Has two children. She actively fights for the rights of those who are disabled, and is VERY involved in her children's lives and education. She is a strong strong woman who has overcome so much without giving it a second thought.
Now, imagine if you will, that same mother. Her clever son has asthma and sensory issues. Her bright daughter was recently diagnosed with a severe epilepsy disorder that leaves her in seizures 60-70 times daily unless she's medicated. This mother is watching her daughter slowly disappear, and yet realizes that her son still needs her too.
Let's continue, shall we? The same woman who was able to fall in love and marry was also able to fall out of love and divorce. Now she's a single mother whose ex sees the children once or twice a month. In a public setting. Enough said.
What does all of this have to do with $15,000?
That's how much this amazing woman lives off in a year. How? I have no idea. I'm still trying to figure that one out. It certainly puts things in perspective, though. Don't you think?
Monday, December 12, 2011
Small Miracles
On my other blog I recently wrote about a little girl named Destiny. Her mommy recently posted on FB a photo of a letter that Destiny wrote to her grandparents, most likely her LAST letter she'll ever write. Her mommy is slowly watching her little girl go down hill and lose control of her life moment by moment. Poor Destiny has so many seizures that it's starting to take a toll on not only her personality, but her ability to learn new things or even maintain the abilities she already has. Her letter was rich with love but it was also rich with little reminders that she's slowly losing control of her fine movement. I looked at it and saw the agonizing frustration her mommy must feel in slowly seeing your daughter go away, not knowing what the future has in store for her, and not being able to do a thing about it.
My heart hurts today as I think about all the miracles my girls have the potential to achieve in their life time and thinking about what that would be like to see such potential for greatness slowly be torn away from me. I simply can not imagine. My soul must be refusing to believe that such horrid things exist.
My heart hurts today as I think about all the miracles my girls have the potential to achieve in their life time and thinking about what that would be like to see such potential for greatness slowly be torn away from me. I simply can not imagine. My soul must be refusing to believe that such horrid things exist.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Ah, Christmas
I'm thinking it's about time for us to decide once and for all what family traditions our little family wants to have. Forget dedicating the entire month of December to each set of grandparents and their own "Christmas." Forget trying to revolve around a sister who has decided she no longer celebrates the holiday that once meant so much to her because her boyfriend's religion. Forget trying to fit it all into one big all-encompassing package.
Take charge, Riffen! Get a back bone! It's now about you and your family. It's now time to define what it is that will mean a lot to YOU and YOUR girls. You can do it. Go, Reffin, Go!
Take charge, Riffen! Get a back bone! It's now about you and your family. It's now time to define what it is that will mean a lot to YOU and YOUR girls. You can do it. Go, Reffin, Go!
Monday, September 26, 2011
Lunch Plans
Last week...
Me: It's been a long time since I've seen you. Let's do lunch!
Sister: I can't this week. I'm too busy. I sent out resumes and have a couple interviews scheduled for next week.
Me: Oh, that's great. I have a couple big presentations I'm giving Monday morning and I'm sure I'll need to go out to lunch for my mental sake afterwards. How does Monday work?
Sister: Great! I have my interview that morning and we can get together to unwind afterwards.
Me: Yay! Yay!
Today...
Me: I tried to call you a bunch of times for lunch but you never answered.
Sister: I know.
Me: How did your interview go?
Sister: Oh!!! Really well. Thanks!
After a few more minutes of chatting, still no inquiry about how my presentations went and no explanation for why she bailed on me.
Yep, once again I feel like I'm below the bottom of the totom pole. Not exactly the "unwind" lunch I had anticipated or needed. Sigh.
Me: It's been a long time since I've seen you. Let's do lunch!
Sister: I can't this week. I'm too busy. I sent out resumes and have a couple interviews scheduled for next week.
Me: Oh, that's great. I have a couple big presentations I'm giving Monday morning and I'm sure I'll need to go out to lunch for my mental sake afterwards. How does Monday work?
Sister: Great! I have my interview that morning and we can get together to unwind afterwards.
Me: Yay! Yay!
Today...
Me: I tried to call you a bunch of times for lunch but you never answered.
Sister: I know.
Me: How did your interview go?
Sister: Oh!!! Really well. Thanks!
After a few more minutes of chatting, still no inquiry about how my presentations went and no explanation for why she bailed on me.
Yep, once again I feel like I'm below the bottom of the totom pole. Not exactly the "unwind" lunch I had anticipated or needed. Sigh.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Unbalanced Scale
At one time she gave you $1,000+ every month to help you through your unbalanced marriage. Now the scales have tipped and you're able to help her for a change. At a rate of $100 every month.
What's a couple 0's amongst family?
What's a couple 0's amongst family?
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Excuses excuses
Isn't it funny how what may seem to be a random comment can stick with you forever?
I once dated (if you can call it that... 8th grade) a guy who was not very smart. That's putting it nicely. His brother wasn't very smart either. Rumor had it they shared a brain. But their father really liked me. I recall talking to him one day about how his sons both struggled with school. He told me about how their mother left them at a young age and that they really struggled with it, affecting all aspects of their lives - including school.
He said, "That's the reason, not an excuse."
That's the reason. Not an excuse.
That's deep. And now, 20 years later it's that statement that seems to be sticking with me lately.
I want to be understanding about healing and what hurdles one might have to overcome to do so. I want to be supportive. Perhaps it's just my lack of ability to truly understand, but I can't help but keep coming back to it.
That's the reason. Not an excuse.
Yes, that's the reason your life is this way. It's not an excuse.
I once dated (if you can call it that... 8th grade) a guy who was not very smart. That's putting it nicely. His brother wasn't very smart either. Rumor had it they shared a brain. But their father really liked me. I recall talking to him one day about how his sons both struggled with school. He told me about how their mother left them at a young age and that they really struggled with it, affecting all aspects of their lives - including school.
He said, "That's the reason, not an excuse."
That's the reason. Not an excuse.
That's deep. And now, 20 years later it's that statement that seems to be sticking with me lately.
I want to be understanding about healing and what hurdles one might have to overcome to do so. I want to be supportive. Perhaps it's just my lack of ability to truly understand, but I can't help but keep coming back to it.
That's the reason. Not an excuse.
Yes, that's the reason your life is this way. It's not an excuse.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Quick Vent
It really urks me to get marital advice from someone who is in the middle of their 5th divorce. It also urks me to be told that I do not enjoy parenthood as much as I should from someone who doesn't keep up with my blog.
That is all.
That is all.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
What goes around comes around
For much of my life, my mom has always been the most giving person I know. She is the main reason why I try to donate as much as possible. I think it's important because I'm so fortunate. I believe in the general rule of 'what goes around, comes around' and if you do good, the day will come when good will be done to you. I can think of countless times when she has given up her time to help someone who needs it, but more than that, she has no problem forking over money to help.
I guess I should say "had" instead of "has."
The divorce she's going through is taking its toll. I suppose it goes to show that it's easier to "help" if you're not worried about money. It's hard for me to watch what my mom is going through. She wants to help but just simply can not. It's now her turn to ask for help. And that's hard for her to do. And it's hard for me to watch.
And it's just the beginning, right?
Let's assume that things work out for her and she is able to somehow get out of this divorce still standing on two feet, or at least kneeling. Then there is no problem. But what if she doesn't? Then what?
Michael and I have a plan for retirement. Our plan is to put our children through school and have the retirement we want. Our plan is working but our plan does not include our parents. We assumed they had their own plans. What happens when theirs fall apart? What happens to our plan?
And strangely, this isn't even about my mom and her financial situation.
It's about my brother. My brother has never been able to, nor will he ever be, make much money. He has been working at the same job now for 16 years. That sounds good. The sad part is that he's still not a permanent employee. He works 40 hours a week but does not get any benefits. No vacation, but more importantly, he gets no insurance. He is insured through my mom. Don't get me started on how much that infuriates me.
See where this is going?
My brother has a major dental issue that will cost $4,000 to clear up. Where is my mom going to get the money for that? The answer was in her tears. She has no idea. The money will come from somewhere - it HAS to. And most likely a portion of it will have to come from us (if Michael happens to read this before I chat with him, obviously there is more to it than that).
Get him past this point and all goes back to normal, right? But what about next time? He is not getting any younger and certainly is a person who is most likely prone to having big medical issues prop up, instead of the small ones.
Yes Michael and I are very fortunate to have a plan, and one that looks promising. But where does that plan end? It's not like I can say "no" to my mom's needs? Or can I? And after her, then there's my brother? Oh, and why stop there? What about the other grandparents? What if their plans fall apart? When I look at the numbers, Michael and I are the only ones who can "afford" to help. But we can't afford to take it all upon ourselves. And is it fair to expect us to, simply because we're more responsible with our finances than others?
My father-in-law is burning through his money trying to take care of his father-in-law. What happens after that? Traditionally, the next generation takes on the burden. But where does it end? Is it really reasonable to expect the next generation to always pick up the slack? I don't want to do that to my children, but when I look at the possible worst-case, or even the possible likely-case, I'm not sure even I would be able to avoid passing on the burden.
And all this because my brother has a stupid tooth infection.
I guess I should say "had" instead of "has."
The divorce she's going through is taking its toll. I suppose it goes to show that it's easier to "help" if you're not worried about money. It's hard for me to watch what my mom is going through. She wants to help but just simply can not. It's now her turn to ask for help. And that's hard for her to do. And it's hard for me to watch.
And it's just the beginning, right?
Let's assume that things work out for her and she is able to somehow get out of this divorce still standing on two feet, or at least kneeling. Then there is no problem. But what if she doesn't? Then what?
Michael and I have a plan for retirement. Our plan is to put our children through school and have the retirement we want. Our plan is working but our plan does not include our parents. We assumed they had their own plans. What happens when theirs fall apart? What happens to our plan?
And strangely, this isn't even about my mom and her financial situation.
It's about my brother. My brother has never been able to, nor will he ever be, make much money. He has been working at the same job now for 16 years. That sounds good. The sad part is that he's still not a permanent employee. He works 40 hours a week but does not get any benefits. No vacation, but more importantly, he gets no insurance. He is insured through my mom. Don't get me started on how much that infuriates me.
See where this is going?
My brother has a major dental issue that will cost $4,000 to clear up. Where is my mom going to get the money for that? The answer was in her tears. She has no idea. The money will come from somewhere - it HAS to. And most likely a portion of it will have to come from us (if Michael happens to read this before I chat with him, obviously there is more to it than that).
Get him past this point and all goes back to normal, right? But what about next time? He is not getting any younger and certainly is a person who is most likely prone to having big medical issues prop up, instead of the small ones.
Yes Michael and I are very fortunate to have a plan, and one that looks promising. But where does that plan end? It's not like I can say "no" to my mom's needs? Or can I? And after her, then there's my brother? Oh, and why stop there? What about the other grandparents? What if their plans fall apart? When I look at the numbers, Michael and I are the only ones who can "afford" to help. But we can't afford to take it all upon ourselves. And is it fair to expect us to, simply because we're more responsible with our finances than others?
My father-in-law is burning through his money trying to take care of his father-in-law. What happens after that? Traditionally, the next generation takes on the burden. But where does it end? Is it really reasonable to expect the next generation to always pick up the slack? I don't want to do that to my children, but when I look at the possible worst-case, or even the possible likely-case, I'm not sure even I would be able to avoid passing on the burden.
And all this because my brother has a stupid tooth infection.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Vicariously living a good childhood at 60
My sister and I had a good heart-to-heart talk with my mom yesterday. She told us about her messed up childhood and how she thinks it has affected the decisions she has made throughout her messed up life. In the end, it's all horrid stuff that is not my story to share. As such, let's just stick to the more universal aspects of her story...
Generation gaps. They amaze me.
Generation 1: My grandparents
My grandparents were dirt poor. I'm sure that they struggled a lot with wondering how they were going to pay the bills, let alone heat the house, let alone feed EIGHT kids. When my grandma found out that she was pregnant with her 7th (and then 8th) she melted down and trembled with fear for telling Grandpa, who in turn got very angry. There was no joy in the news. In fact, there was no joy in their lives. My mom looks at her mom now and sees an old lonely woman who has missed out on so much in her life because she has never allowed herself a moment of joy. Perhaps she just couldn't afford to. Perhaps it was just the way that generation was.
Generation 2: My mother
My mother went through a lot in her childhood. Some of it was just plain sick and disturbing, but she used to (and perhaps still does) attribute it to her parents never being there to protect her. Perhaps that was just the way it was done back then. My mom has no, I repeat NO, happy memories of her childhood. Instead she shared heartbreaking stories of how she feared for her life and yet feared the wrathe of her father even more. She learned to just not tell her father. If she did tell him, he would either decide she was making stuff up and punish her for it or he would punish her saying "I'll give you something real to cry about." There was no soothing of her fears. There was no embracing, telling her it would all be ok. There were no hugs saying that they loved her and were proud of her.
Some of her stories of how her parents weren't around to protect her started way back when she was 3 years old. When I hear about what she had to endure (and I'm not even talking about the bad stuff), I can not imagine how scared and alone she must have always felt. The family of eight kids practically had to raise themselves. They couldn't go to their dad for support or protection because his punishment was more feared. And they couldn't expect their mom to help them - she tried it once and never again.
Generation 3: Me and my siblings
My mom quickly learned that she did not want to raise us the way she was raised. The amount of strength and courage this must have taken is absolutely astonishing. It's much easier said than done because if you don't raise your kids the way you were raised, then how do you know the alternative options? My mom used to sit on her hands so that she forced herself to not be able to spank us or slap us if she was upset. I remember her sitting on her hands throughout my childhood. I never knew why. My mom is not a perfect mother, but when I compare the way she was raised to the way she raised us, I have a lot of respect for her. The self-help books that we made fun of her for - they all make sense to me. She couldn't read them fast enough and always felt like she was only one step in front of us.
In many regards my mom raised us by herself. Technically speaking, that's not true, but she certainly didn't have any true partnership. She did not enjoy parenting but she felt obligated to it and felt strongly that she needed to shelter us so that we could have a better life.
I look at how I turned out and I compare it to my mom. She married her first husband after having known him for a week because she was absolutely convinced that it was her only chance to have someone willing to marry her. She was slapped when she told her dad she wanted to be an engineer, and though I even experienced a similar reaction from Grandpa, I had enough support from others in my life. She says she was almost 30 years old when she got her first hug from her father.
I don't know how she bridged that gap so well but I have always been so incredibly thankful for how drastically different my life was from hers, regardless of a few unavoidable similarities. Somehow a woman who has never had any self confidence was able to raise a daughter (perhaps two, but I can't speak for my sister) who has always been very self confident. I have always believed in myself because my mom believed in me. She never had that.
Generation 4: My daughters
When my mom spoke of some of her earliest memories I couldn't help but imagine my daughters in those situations. Mom's earliest memories were from when she was 3 years old, younger than my Ellie. I think more than anything else, that's the stuff that affected me the most. The horrible stuff I was able to be numb about (how can you not) but picturing my daughter having to go through the experiences my mom went through without any feeling of protection or love from your parents... that's when the tears would flow for me.
My mom says there is no better anti-depressent than spending time with my daughters. She says that she's always at awe with them and their lives. She finds herself staring at them realizing that this is the way children SHOULD be. They're allowed to run and laugh without their parents thinking they don't have enough work to do. They're allowed to giggle without being told they must be up to no good. They're given hugs and know that they are loved. Very much loved. They're comforted when they fall and hurt themselves or if they're terrified of something. If they tell us something of importance, we believe them instead of punishing them for making up stories.
It must be weird for my mom to watch them and wonder what her life would have been like if she had a childhood like the one they do. For me, it's heart breaking to think of my girls going through even a portion of the stuff my mom did.
What my children will grow up to think is "normal" is a complete 180 from what my mom thought was "normal" and a nice side effect of this is the fact that there are many more laughs going around.
It's heartbreaking for me to think about all that my grandparents missed out on and how miserable their lives must have been in order to raise their kids as miserable as they were raised.
I know it's a generational thing but I still can't understand it.
Generation gaps. They amaze me.
Generation 1: My grandparents
My grandparents were dirt poor. I'm sure that they struggled a lot with wondering how they were going to pay the bills, let alone heat the house, let alone feed EIGHT kids. When my grandma found out that she was pregnant with her 7th (and then 8th) she melted down and trembled with fear for telling Grandpa, who in turn got very angry. There was no joy in the news. In fact, there was no joy in their lives. My mom looks at her mom now and sees an old lonely woman who has missed out on so much in her life because she has never allowed herself a moment of joy. Perhaps she just couldn't afford to. Perhaps it was just the way that generation was.
Generation 2: My mother
My mother went through a lot in her childhood. Some of it was just plain sick and disturbing, but she used to (and perhaps still does) attribute it to her parents never being there to protect her. Perhaps that was just the way it was done back then. My mom has no, I repeat NO, happy memories of her childhood. Instead she shared heartbreaking stories of how she feared for her life and yet feared the wrathe of her father even more. She learned to just not tell her father. If she did tell him, he would either decide she was making stuff up and punish her for it or he would punish her saying "I'll give you something real to cry about." There was no soothing of her fears. There was no embracing, telling her it would all be ok. There were no hugs saying that they loved her and were proud of her.
Some of her stories of how her parents weren't around to protect her started way back when she was 3 years old. When I hear about what she had to endure (and I'm not even talking about the bad stuff), I can not imagine how scared and alone she must have always felt. The family of eight kids practically had to raise themselves. They couldn't go to their dad for support or protection because his punishment was more feared. And they couldn't expect their mom to help them - she tried it once and never again.
Generation 3: Me and my siblings
My mom quickly learned that she did not want to raise us the way she was raised. The amount of strength and courage this must have taken is absolutely astonishing. It's much easier said than done because if you don't raise your kids the way you were raised, then how do you know the alternative options? My mom used to sit on her hands so that she forced herself to not be able to spank us or slap us if she was upset. I remember her sitting on her hands throughout my childhood. I never knew why. My mom is not a perfect mother, but when I compare the way she was raised to the way she raised us, I have a lot of respect for her. The self-help books that we made fun of her for - they all make sense to me. She couldn't read them fast enough and always felt like she was only one step in front of us.
In many regards my mom raised us by herself. Technically speaking, that's not true, but she certainly didn't have any true partnership. She did not enjoy parenting but she felt obligated to it and felt strongly that she needed to shelter us so that we could have a better life.
I look at how I turned out and I compare it to my mom. She married her first husband after having known him for a week because she was absolutely convinced that it was her only chance to have someone willing to marry her. She was slapped when she told her dad she wanted to be an engineer, and though I even experienced a similar reaction from Grandpa, I had enough support from others in my life. She says she was almost 30 years old when she got her first hug from her father.
I don't know how she bridged that gap so well but I have always been so incredibly thankful for how drastically different my life was from hers, regardless of a few unavoidable similarities. Somehow a woman who has never had any self confidence was able to raise a daughter (perhaps two, but I can't speak for my sister) who has always been very self confident. I have always believed in myself because my mom believed in me. She never had that.
Generation 4: My daughters
When my mom spoke of some of her earliest memories I couldn't help but imagine my daughters in those situations. Mom's earliest memories were from when she was 3 years old, younger than my Ellie. I think more than anything else, that's the stuff that affected me the most. The horrible stuff I was able to be numb about (how can you not) but picturing my daughter having to go through the experiences my mom went through without any feeling of protection or love from your parents... that's when the tears would flow for me.
My mom says there is no better anti-depressent than spending time with my daughters. She says that she's always at awe with them and their lives. She finds herself staring at them realizing that this is the way children SHOULD be. They're allowed to run and laugh without their parents thinking they don't have enough work to do. They're allowed to giggle without being told they must be up to no good. They're given hugs and know that they are loved. Very much loved. They're comforted when they fall and hurt themselves or if they're terrified of something. If they tell us something of importance, we believe them instead of punishing them for making up stories.
It must be weird for my mom to watch them and wonder what her life would have been like if she had a childhood like the one they do. For me, it's heart breaking to think of my girls going through even a portion of the stuff my mom did.
What my children will grow up to think is "normal" is a complete 180 from what my mom thought was "normal" and a nice side effect of this is the fact that there are many more laughs going around.
It's heartbreaking for me to think about all that my grandparents missed out on and how miserable their lives must have been in order to raise their kids as miserable as they were raised.
I know it's a generational thing but I still can't understand it.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Travel Buddies
I am a lucky person to have found a perfect travel buddy who is also a perfect husband. I don't think I can put my finger on why we travel so well together, but it's just always easy. It would be nice to say that it's as simple as "we like seing and doing the same things," but there is more to it than that. He likes museums more than I do and I like churches more than he. But somehow, we're able to get past these details without noticing them at all.
Every now and then I have fantasized about finding another couple with whom we can develop a life-time travel buddy relationship. We've come across groups of people like this in our own travels. The group consists of two couples and it's the perfect set-up. Because there are four of them, they can break away and do whatever they want to do without feeling guilty about leaving anyone alone. If the husbands want to go see the local salt mine tour, but the wives would rather spend the day in the local market, then it's not a problem.
I LOVE this idea. The concept is perfect. I would love to find that special couple who fit our traveling styles perfectly. I think the potential for seeing and doing more and enjoying ourselves more at the same time is... well... there is a reason it's called a "fantasy."
Sometimes I think that my sister could be involved in my fantasy (hmmm... I don't think I've ever said those words before... it's a little creepy). There is potential there for it to work out. However it was NOT a match with her ex-husband. Definitely not. No siree. We went on two separate trips to Europe with them - one to Paris and one to London, and we clashed both times. Nothing major happened, unless you consider the passive-agressive-frustration to be "major."
Regardless, it just wasn't EASY like it is when Michael and I travel together. That's what I want more of... EASY... only with a slightly larger group.
Michael and I are now trying to decide details on our vacation plans for the year. I'm so excited about all the trips we're thinking of taking, but the big one is to Europe for a week and a half (I have to get past the guilty mother syndrom, but it looks like it's going to happen). We're thinking France. Yay!
And now my sister is with someone else. There is a reason why her ex is an ex. I like her new boyfriend but he has a certain je-ne-sais-quoi that rubs me the wrong way. He's fantastic with her and certainly doesn't have issues with me, which is great. He's smart and has a dry, but present, sense of humor. If I had to attempt at describing the je-ne-sais-quoi trait, it would have something to do with his confidence. He definitely has a lot of that.
Anyway, this isn't necessarily about him. Except that it is. My sister wants to resubmit her application for our Life-Long Travel Buddies. But I hesitate...
Though she's now with a different guy, one who I like MUCH MUCH more than her ex, her ex was only half of the story right? It's hard to decide how much of the mismatch was really his fault. I shouldn't even say "fault" but you know what I mean. Some of the mismatch HAS to be credited to my sister. Right?
Alas... I feel like we owe it to her to do a trial run. Right? I am hoping that we'll be able to pull off a quick long weekend trip to Oxford (for Michael's work) with her and her new beau. If that doesn't happen, or if it happens well... then perhaps they can tag along for a portion of our trip to France? I'm not jumping for joyful anticipation of this, but I don't have a good reason to say no. Do I?
Every now and then I have fantasized about finding another couple with whom we can develop a life-time travel buddy relationship. We've come across groups of people like this in our own travels. The group consists of two couples and it's the perfect set-up. Because there are four of them, they can break away and do whatever they want to do without feeling guilty about leaving anyone alone. If the husbands want to go see the local salt mine tour, but the wives would rather spend the day in the local market, then it's not a problem.
I LOVE this idea. The concept is perfect. I would love to find that special couple who fit our traveling styles perfectly. I think the potential for seeing and doing more and enjoying ourselves more at the same time is... well... there is a reason it's called a "fantasy."
Sometimes I think that my sister could be involved in my fantasy (hmmm... I don't think I've ever said those words before... it's a little creepy). There is potential there for it to work out. However it was NOT a match with her ex-husband. Definitely not. No siree. We went on two separate trips to Europe with them - one to Paris and one to London, and we clashed both times. Nothing major happened, unless you consider the passive-agressive-frustration to be "major."
Regardless, it just wasn't EASY like it is when Michael and I travel together. That's what I want more of... EASY... only with a slightly larger group.
Michael and I are now trying to decide details on our vacation plans for the year. I'm so excited about all the trips we're thinking of taking, but the big one is to Europe for a week and a half (I have to get past the guilty mother syndrom, but it looks like it's going to happen). We're thinking France. Yay!
And now my sister is with someone else. There is a reason why her ex is an ex. I like her new boyfriend but he has a certain je-ne-sais-quoi that rubs me the wrong way. He's fantastic with her and certainly doesn't have issues with me, which is great. He's smart and has a dry, but present, sense of humor. If I had to attempt at describing the je-ne-sais-quoi trait, it would have something to do with his confidence. He definitely has a lot of that.
Anyway, this isn't necessarily about him. Except that it is. My sister wants to resubmit her application for our Life-Long Travel Buddies. But I hesitate...
Though she's now with a different guy, one who I like MUCH MUCH more than her ex, her ex was only half of the story right? It's hard to decide how much of the mismatch was really his fault. I shouldn't even say "fault" but you know what I mean. Some of the mismatch HAS to be credited to my sister. Right?
Alas... I feel like we owe it to her to do a trial run. Right? I am hoping that we'll be able to pull off a quick long weekend trip to Oxford (for Michael's work) with her and her new beau. If that doesn't happen, or if it happens well... then perhaps they can tag along for a portion of our trip to France? I'm not jumping for joyful anticipation of this, but I don't have a good reason to say no. Do I?
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Two posts in one day!!!
Thank you, Jen, for your kind words. I really needed it today.
I've been in a slump since seeing Kelli over the weekend and today just made it worse. I've decided that FB is evil. Sure it's great to see what's going on in other people's lives, but it also opens the door to unexpected pain.
I see friends' status messages about their social lives and their nights out on the town, only to realize that I wasn't invited. I'm sure it's a small thing and nothing was meant by it... there's always a reason for those sort of things.
It's just that following so close to seeing Kelli... it just added to my slump. My "woe is me" mood.
So your comments were perfect. Thank you.
My friend situation may not be what I always imagined I would have, but I do feel confident that the few friends I do have will always be there for me even if I don't hang out with them nearly as often as I'd like.
To all of you... thank you. You mean so much to me. I'm always amazed by your perfect timing.
I've been in a slump since seeing Kelli over the weekend and today just made it worse. I've decided that FB is evil. Sure it's great to see what's going on in other people's lives, but it also opens the door to unexpected pain.
I see friends' status messages about their social lives and their nights out on the town, only to realize that I wasn't invited. I'm sure it's a small thing and nothing was meant by it... there's always a reason for those sort of things.
It's just that following so close to seeing Kelli... it just added to my slump. My "woe is me" mood.
So your comments were perfect. Thank you.
My friend situation may not be what I always imagined I would have, but I do feel confident that the few friends I do have will always be there for me even if I don't hang out with them nearly as often as I'd like.
To all of you... thank you. You mean so much to me. I'm always amazed by your perfect timing.
Shutdown Avoided & Old Friends
Apparently you guys talked me out of it, and with good timing too.
I'm sure everyone has regrets of some sort and I'm sure that everyone has someone from their past that brings a feeling of sadness that sweeps over your body if and when you ever think of them.
Mine is Kelli.
The nutshell is this: We met in college and became good friends. She was the one to whome I first admitted being attracted to Michael. In fact, she was the one who first told me what his name was (and still is, I suppose). I was in her wedding. She was in my wedding. She got pregnant and had a beautiful baby boy. I got pregnant and we wrote to each other weekly. When Ellie was born, it all stopped.
I have my theories on why she stopped being my friend but they're all just theories. They all seem so silly, certainly not significant enough to warrent ending a friendship. But obviously they are. Or perhaps my friendship just didn't matter to her as much as she did to me. That can't be. I was in her wedding just the same.
Anyway, I won't go into details of the agonizing questioning I've put myself through, wondering what happened. After trying to contact her multiple times and in multiple ways, she never told me.
It had been nearly 3 years since we spoke by the time I happened to run into her husband and first son at the store this last weekend. It was bound to happen sometime, right? After all, we do live in the same town.
Seeing Kenny made my stomach lurch. It brought back so many unanswered questions that I knew were inappropriate to ask him. It's not his place to answer them. So instead we chatted about other neutral topics. Where do you work now? What about Kelli? Is she still working? How is she doing? What's your younger boy's name? Do they go to daycare? Oh yes! I can't believe how expensive it is either.
And oh, by the way... why did Kelli stop speaking to me? But no. I didn't ask.
On the way out to the car we saw her. She was pulling up their car to pick up Kenny. And there, inside my stomach, was a sensation of dread. It was a horrible sensation and I found myself wondering what it would be like to go up and give my old friend a hug. But at the same time I questioned if I should even say anything to her.
Michael told me I should. He was probably right. I walked up to her car and was nearly certain she was avoiding looking my way. I knocked on her window so that she had no choice but to respond. As Michael helped Kenny load stuff into their car, Kelli and I chatted.
No. That's not right. It wasn't much of a chat.
Have you ever been with someone who obviously doesn't know who you are but doesn't want to admit it? It was almost, but not quite, the complete opposite of that. At least in that case the person tries to pretend that nothing is wrong.
There was no doubt in my mind that Kelli did not want to be talking to me at that moment. She answered my questions with one worded answers. She asked the same questions in return to be polite but didn't offer up any new ones. The akwardness was too much for me to bare so I quickly said my good byes: "Well, I thought I'd stop by and say hi. It was nice to see you and the boys again."
"Yeah, bye."
Then my family and I went back to our car and sat in silence. Well, Michael and I sat in silence as Ellie chatted away. There wasn't much to say and I'm sure that my tears told Michael that the only thing he could do was squeeze my hand. And that he did. Two or three times.
I'm sure everyone has regrets of some sort and I'm sure that everyone has someone from their past that brings a feeling of sadness that sweeps over your body if and when you ever think of them.
Mine is Kelli.
The nutshell is this: We met in college and became good friends. She was the one to whome I first admitted being attracted to Michael. In fact, she was the one who first told me what his name was (and still is, I suppose). I was in her wedding. She was in my wedding. She got pregnant and had a beautiful baby boy. I got pregnant and we wrote to each other weekly. When Ellie was born, it all stopped.
I have my theories on why she stopped being my friend but they're all just theories. They all seem so silly, certainly not significant enough to warrent ending a friendship. But obviously they are. Or perhaps my friendship just didn't matter to her as much as she did to me. That can't be. I was in her wedding just the same.
Anyway, I won't go into details of the agonizing questioning I've put myself through, wondering what happened. After trying to contact her multiple times and in multiple ways, she never told me.
It had been nearly 3 years since we spoke by the time I happened to run into her husband and first son at the store this last weekend. It was bound to happen sometime, right? After all, we do live in the same town.
Seeing Kenny made my stomach lurch. It brought back so many unanswered questions that I knew were inappropriate to ask him. It's not his place to answer them. So instead we chatted about other neutral topics. Where do you work now? What about Kelli? Is she still working? How is she doing? What's your younger boy's name? Do they go to daycare? Oh yes! I can't believe how expensive it is either.
And oh, by the way... why did Kelli stop speaking to me? But no. I didn't ask.
On the way out to the car we saw her. She was pulling up their car to pick up Kenny. And there, inside my stomach, was a sensation of dread. It was a horrible sensation and I found myself wondering what it would be like to go up and give my old friend a hug. But at the same time I questioned if I should even say anything to her.
Michael told me I should. He was probably right. I walked up to her car and was nearly certain she was avoiding looking my way. I knocked on her window so that she had no choice but to respond. As Michael helped Kenny load stuff into their car, Kelli and I chatted.
No. That's not right. It wasn't much of a chat.
Have you ever been with someone who obviously doesn't know who you are but doesn't want to admit it? It was almost, but not quite, the complete opposite of that. At least in that case the person tries to pretend that nothing is wrong.
There was no doubt in my mind that Kelli did not want to be talking to me at that moment. She answered my questions with one worded answers. She asked the same questions in return to be polite but didn't offer up any new ones. The akwardness was too much for me to bare so I quickly said my good byes: "Well, I thought I'd stop by and say hi. It was nice to see you and the boys again."
"Yeah, bye."
Then my family and I went back to our car and sat in silence. Well, Michael and I sat in silence as Ellie chatted away. There wasn't much to say and I'm sure that my tears told Michael that the only thing he could do was squeeze my hand. And that he did. Two or three times.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Shutdown
I'm considering closing this blog. Originally I wanted it to be about the stories that I felt would upset my family... but not necessarily a full-blown-venting session. Yet that's what it has become. There is nothing in this blog that I want to look back on and remember... so what's the point?
Perhaps by closing the blog I will no longer have a place to vent - but do I need it? I'm not sure. Every now and then I feel like venting into a blog is just making myself feel more grandiose - almost like if it's in a public forum then my thoughts must be validated. That's not the case, is it?
Perhaps by closing the blog I will come across as a person who has it all together - someone who enjoys every moment of parenthood, who has perfect children and no frustrations. After all, that's what my other blog is all about. Yes, my children are perfect, but the other stuff is not true. It's just that I don't want to remember the bad stuff, so I purposefully only write about the good stuff. Twenty years from now, I'm not going to want to look back and read about the bad.
So why would it be any different for this blog? I don't think it is.
So... consider this a warning that somday Reffin In Hiding might no longer be.
Perhaps by closing the blog I will no longer have a place to vent - but do I need it? I'm not sure. Every now and then I feel like venting into a blog is just making myself feel more grandiose - almost like if it's in a public forum then my thoughts must be validated. That's not the case, is it?
Perhaps by closing the blog I will come across as a person who has it all together - someone who enjoys every moment of parenthood, who has perfect children and no frustrations. After all, that's what my other blog is all about. Yes, my children are perfect, but the other stuff is not true. It's just that I don't want to remember the bad stuff, so I purposefully only write about the good stuff. Twenty years from now, I'm not going to want to look back and read about the bad.
So why would it be any different for this blog? I don't think it is.
So... consider this a warning that somday Reffin In Hiding might no longer be.
Friday, March 4, 2011
My Dear Sister,
I have thought long and hard about whether or not to discuss this with you and have come to no conclusion. Therefore we have this letter, of which I don't know you will ever see.
I am having a hard time coming terms with my frustration with you at the moment. You don't know this. How would you? I wouldn't be surprised if you think everything is fine and dandy. And part of the problem with me telling you otherwise is that any apology on your part would feel forced and done only because I approached you.
Flat out, I'm frustrated with the way things went down when you lived with us. I suppose it comes down to not defining our expectations well enough. Heck, who knew we had high expectations until we discovered the results were so much lower?
In a nutshell, and of course hindsight is 20/20, here is a list of the expectations we had when you moved in with us (in no particular order of relevance):
1. I would get to spend more time with my sister.
2. The girls would get to spend more time with Aunt E.
3. You LOVE to cook and LOVE to cook for others. We had 3 mouths willing to be fed (actually 4 if you count the newborn).
4. Speaking of newborn, we had one of those and it was going to be so nice to have your help given our new addition.
5. You are such a clean-freak. Not saying you'd pick up AFTER us, but it was going to be so nice to have an extra set of helping hands (especially given #4).
6. Date nights! OMG! How nice it was going to be to have a date night every now and then, where you would stay home with the girls and let us go out.
7. An extra car... with having an extra driver in the house, it would help eliviate some of the time and stress we have picking up the girls from daycare.
8. Paying no rent, just think of all the credit card debt you could pay off!
9. With you only working 3 days a week, we might actually be able to get the basement fixed up a bit for you!
10. Ten seems like such an even number.
And in a nutshell, here are the results (in the same order given above):
1. Yes, more time with sister. Yay! However, that time mostly occurred during the day (lunch and business hours). You rarely took an evening off of your date life to spend with me. And if you did, it was a late start or an early departure.
2. Yes, you saw the girls more often, but it was in spurts of 5 minutes here or there. If you happened to be in your room, Ellie could wake you up. Most of the time it was you giving her a hug on your way out the door.
3. In the 13 months you lived with us, you cooked 3 times: Once because you were hosting girls' night, once because I flat-out asked you to and once when you actually offered yourself. ONCE.
4. Speaking of newborn... yep. We had one. It was tough.
5. Cleaning - You were fantastic the first month you were with us. After that, we didn't really feel much help. Not sure it was *worse* for us. Just definitely not easier.
6. Date nights. Nope. Never got one. You did. We did not.
7. An extra car... I recall you picking up the girls a few times. Few being 2-3.
8. Yep... you claimed that you put all that money we saved you into paying off your credit card debt, yet every time you mention the numbers they increase. Huh? And what about spending the $1k for the charity formal. Sure a portion of it was for charity, but not the $300 dress and $150 hotel stay. I'm glad you got to use your shoes again, though.
9. It took us 2.5 months to paint our basement. Us being us. Not you. We only had an hour or two every night to widdle away at it. Your days were spent elsewhere. However, I did notice that it took you only 2 or 3 weeks to paint the entire floor of your home after you moved in. I'm happy for you.
10. Yep. Ten is still ten.
All this and neither M nor I feel like we ever got a "Thank you" whether it be while you were living with us or after you moved out.
I wish I wasn't so frustrated or disappointed right now. I'm surprised that M is handing it so well, though the reasoning is heartbreaking. He figures that you are who you are and that is someone who doesn't think outside of the box that is herself. Is it true you don't think of others? I hope not. I want to believe that you are a kind and considerate, thoughtful person. But as such, I find myself at a loss for an explanation.
Sigh.
I am having a hard time coming terms with my frustration with you at the moment. You don't know this. How would you? I wouldn't be surprised if you think everything is fine and dandy. And part of the problem with me telling you otherwise is that any apology on your part would feel forced and done only because I approached you.
Flat out, I'm frustrated with the way things went down when you lived with us. I suppose it comes down to not defining our expectations well enough. Heck, who knew we had high expectations until we discovered the results were so much lower?
In a nutshell, and of course hindsight is 20/20, here is a list of the expectations we had when you moved in with us (in no particular order of relevance):
1. I would get to spend more time with my sister.
2. The girls would get to spend more time with Aunt E.
3. You LOVE to cook and LOVE to cook for others. We had 3 mouths willing to be fed (actually 4 if you count the newborn).
4. Speaking of newborn, we had one of those and it was going to be so nice to have your help given our new addition.
5. You are such a clean-freak. Not saying you'd pick up AFTER us, but it was going to be so nice to have an extra set of helping hands (especially given #4).
6. Date nights! OMG! How nice it was going to be to have a date night every now and then, where you would stay home with the girls and let us go out.
7. An extra car... with having an extra driver in the house, it would help eliviate some of the time and stress we have picking up the girls from daycare.
8. Paying no rent, just think of all the credit card debt you could pay off!
9. With you only working 3 days a week, we might actually be able to get the basement fixed up a bit for you!
10. Ten seems like such an even number.
And in a nutshell, here are the results (in the same order given above):
1. Yes, more time with sister. Yay! However, that time mostly occurred during the day (lunch and business hours). You rarely took an evening off of your date life to spend with me. And if you did, it was a late start or an early departure.
2. Yes, you saw the girls more often, but it was in spurts of 5 minutes here or there. If you happened to be in your room, Ellie could wake you up. Most of the time it was you giving her a hug on your way out the door.
3. In the 13 months you lived with us, you cooked 3 times: Once because you were hosting girls' night, once because I flat-out asked you to and once when you actually offered yourself. ONCE.
4. Speaking of newborn... yep. We had one. It was tough.
5. Cleaning - You were fantastic the first month you were with us. After that, we didn't really feel much help. Not sure it was *worse* for us. Just definitely not easier.
6. Date nights. Nope. Never got one. You did. We did not.
7. An extra car... I recall you picking up the girls a few times. Few being 2-3.
8. Yep... you claimed that you put all that money we saved you into paying off your credit card debt, yet every time you mention the numbers they increase. Huh? And what about spending the $1k for the charity formal. Sure a portion of it was for charity, but not the $300 dress and $150 hotel stay. I'm glad you got to use your shoes again, though.
9. It took us 2.5 months to paint our basement. Us being us. Not you. We only had an hour or two every night to widdle away at it. Your days were spent elsewhere. However, I did notice that it took you only 2 or 3 weeks to paint the entire floor of your home after you moved in. I'm happy for you.
10. Yep. Ten is still ten.
All this and neither M nor I feel like we ever got a "Thank you" whether it be while you were living with us or after you moved out.
I wish I wasn't so frustrated or disappointed right now. I'm surprised that M is handing it so well, though the reasoning is heartbreaking. He figures that you are who you are and that is someone who doesn't think outside of the box that is herself. Is it true you don't think of others? I hope not. I want to believe that you are a kind and considerate, thoughtful person. But as such, I find myself at a loss for an explanation.
Sigh.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Wedding Dress
Years ago my sister and I were planning our weddings together. We went dress shopping together which was a lot of fun. After trying on a few nice dresses, I was in my changing room putting on the next one and I just KNEW that this was THE dress for me. Through the wall, I heard my sister come out of her dressing room and everyone gasped and complimented her on "Oh, this is THE one! This is it!"
Do you see where this story ends?
Yep, it was the same dress. I came out of my dressing room to see my sister wearing the same perfect dress. And after a 10-15 minute standoff, I finally backed down and let her have the dress. I ended up finding another that I liked a lot, though it didn't have the same instant "This is IT" feel.
Fast forward to today. For reasons I won't go into, my sister's marriage did not last. Today, my friends, that PERFECT wedding dress that I GAVE UP is on its way to the landfill.
Sometimes I'm bothered by the things I sacrifice for my sister.
Do you see where this story ends?
Yep, it was the same dress. I came out of my dressing room to see my sister wearing the same perfect dress. And after a 10-15 minute standoff, I finally backed down and let her have the dress. I ended up finding another that I liked a lot, though it didn't have the same instant "This is IT" feel.
Fast forward to today. For reasons I won't go into, my sister's marriage did not last. Today, my friends, that PERFECT wedding dress that I GAVE UP is on its way to the landfill.
Sometimes I'm bothered by the things I sacrifice for my sister.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
No words are really coming
OH. MY. GOD. Have you heard about this story? In a nutshell, a mother lost her four children (ages 3-12) AND her husband in a fire in Seattle. The article uses the words "horrific" and talks about how all she could do was scream hysterically.
Count your blessings now, Reffin. It's nearly impossible for me to fathom the pain a mother must go through at the loss of a single child, let alone four... or even her husband. All at the same time. I want to reach out and hug this woman, but I think that if it were me, I would feel like I could never get close enough to touch anyone ever again.
Is there a word that is worse than "horrific?"
Count your blessings now, Reffin. It's nearly impossible for me to fathom the pain a mother must go through at the loss of a single child, let alone four... or even her husband. All at the same time. I want to reach out and hug this woman, but I think that if it were me, I would feel like I could never get close enough to touch anyone ever again.
Is there a word that is worse than "horrific?"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
