Christmas vacation- Precious time with my sons. My six year old came down at the sound of my washer draining out. He came to watch the water drain out of the utility sink. A whirlpool is formed while the water drains out and he loves whirlpools. He will NOT get out of the bath tub until all the water is drained out, so he can watch the whirlpool at the drain, watch its very last gasp. He lays on his stomach, looking like a wet seal, nose just inches from the drain, watching. He is the last one in the family to take baths, except for the occasional ones I take. We pretty much take showers here, we're all adults, or close. All in a hurry to end the day. He's the only one not there yet, but almost. He's on the verge, showers do sometimes happen now..we are on the edge, on approach to the end of an era. Someday he will be on to to other things and the whirlpools? A thing of the past, except for my memories. Moments of bittersweet joy in the simplest of things.

There was a time when I wished I looked like my mother. She was, and still is, quite beautiful. It was my sister that really looked like her, though, despite the fact that my sister had light brown hair while my mom was a blond(she did lighten it, but my mom insisted that blond was blond, she was just brightening her own natural color a bit.) Both my mother and my sister, Kerry, had features that were uncannily alike. The shape of their faces, the color of there eyes(brown),they even had the same small gap between their two front teeth. I took more after "the McMillen side." I was told I looked like my Aunt Mickey, who was also pretty but she couldn't hold a candle to my mom. At least in my opinion. The funny thing was, whenever my sister heard the comment, 'you look just like your mom,' she used to get upset! 'I do NOT!!' she'd retort. 'I look like ME!' One time the comment came from Mrs. Lang, our neighbor. When Kerry made her usual retort Mrs Lang tried to explain to her what a compliment Kerry had received. 'Your mother is a beautiful woman,' Mrs. Lang explained. 'You should be saying thank you, sweet heart.' Kerry stuck to her guns. 'Why can't you say I look like me?' Kerry asked. I remember my mother laughing about it and telling Mrs. Lang not to worry, Kerry would someday understand. Then my mom thanked Mrs. Lang for the compliment she received as well, and they went toward the kitchen..the memory pretty much fades from there, except I remember the mixed feelings I had regarding that episode. I was proud of my sister for having been able to say what she thought, although I also wondered why a comment I wished to hear would cause her to get upset. Years passed as they always do. Both my sister and I hit our thirties and we really changed over time. Both of us battled weight problems, divorces, and had four kids each. My mother had remarried, capped her teeth so the gap was gone, and let her hair grow a bit longer. Otherwise she hadn't changed much, in fact she was aging well. We were the ones who had changed. Neither of us looked like our mother at this point. This was a time of strife, Kerry and I were both trying to find our places in life, so to speak. Some years we did ok, others we failed miserably. My mother called us late bloomers. She could draw a lot of parallels between us and her own life, but she claimed to have learned these lessons faster than we did. She wondered if it was because she made it to college and we didn't. I remember those years. After my mother divorced she went to school to become a nurse, and she was dating too. I can remember not seeing her for days, it seemed. I used to love hiding in the back of my moms closet, because back there I could smell her. It was almost like she was there. I did try college right after high school, but I was not ready, read that not mature enough. I was too busy clinging to my boyfriend. After a few more years I did feel ready, and did go back, but I had started having kids. It was very hard to go to school and raise kids, too. I eventually gave up school, although every now and then I'd try again. Often it was after the birth of another child, and after both divorces. Why would I choose to go to school at the hardest times in my life? To ensure failure? Kerry didn't go to school, but she went from religion to religion, trying to find one that fit her best. She also developed her psychic side, and began reading Tarot. She eventually got to the point she made a living at it, and to this day she reads people. She, too, tried marriage a few times, but she eventually decided to stay single. Both of us went through several crisis, and through them all my mother suffered with us. She sometimes railed on us, sometimes advised us, sometimes she would walk away from us, at least a little while, but she always loved us. My step dad died in 1999, and my mother almost did too. They did not always have a great marriage, but it survived 22 years, and had reached a point of calm, and love. They were looking forward to retirement, planning to travel and do the things they had been putting off. Then Dad dropped of a heart attack. My mother did not know what to do with herself, and we didn't know how to help her. Eventually she went to Beaver Island, an island in the middle of Lake Michigan, off of Charlevoix. The family had been going up there for years, and Kerry and I liked to head there as well for peace and regrouping. The island was rough around the edges, a place that was still fairly wild and moved to the rythms of nature. The town that was there seemed like it was thirty years behind, at least in pace. It, too, was in touch with nature, but St. James also followed the scheduele of the ferry. My mother lived there for two years and made many friends. Over time I traveled there and established a memorial garden for my dad. I used the island as a retreat, too, first because of my dad, but later to reflect on my marriage. I think that island helped save my mothers' sanity. She ended up leaving the island, but I continued, at first to make that garden, but also to save my sanity, too. I know it helped. My sister came less often, but she did show up when she felt ready to snap. It was during these trips to the island that I started hearing something anciently familiar, but strange, too. I used to come up by myself to the island. I enjoyed being alone and even liked my own company, by this time in my life. Still, I did end up craving human contact-on my own terms. So I'd go for walks, go to the store. One day I was chit chatting and laughing with a woman in line when another woman came rushing up. When I turned toward her she stopped short, but still had a look of "I think I know you..." She finally asked, 'Are you Kathleen's daughter?" When I answered in astonishment that I was she grinned. 'I worked with your mother while she lived her,' she said. 'I swear I heard her laughing just now, so I came to see if she was here. You must have been the one laughing.' I acknowledged I was. She then said, 'You sound just like her. You look like her, too.' This lady then went on to tell me some great stories about my mother. I loved it. Both Kerry and I still visit the island. My mother does too, often on her own, sometimes we show up with her. Both Kerry and I hear how much we are like our mother. Sometimes in looks, but also in our voices, our laughter. I also like when I hear that my mother and I think alike. Or how my mom did a kind thing, or a generous thing, and then they follow up with 'and you are so like her..' What a great compliment. My sister thinks so too. Kerry and I are in our forties now. We are finally finding some wisdom and peace in our lives, although there is no question we are still learning. My mother lives in Florida now, but visits in the summer, and always makes it back to the island for a few weeks. She insists she is still learning too, and sees so much of herself in us especially when she was our age. Kerry takes this as a compliment now. I hope I can continue her legacy while making my own. Both of us are very glad and blessed to be Kathleen's Daughters.

It's been awhile since I blogged-must have blogger block or something. One things for sure, I am glad to have made through another Christmas! It's enjoyable to a degree, but such tremendous effort...running to school for the various events the kids are involved in-although I wouldn't miss it for the world, they really love it when I'm there and I enjoy it too-all the shopping, dealing with the family eccentricities..this year my father-in law was crabby. They had a tough year financially, both my in-laws are in sales. He sells cars at a Chevy/Buick dealership(uh huh) and she sells modular homes. I think they felt the strain for sure. My sister-in-law is freshly divorced and dating a New Squeeze. He's being worked into the family fold, I guess, but the ex is still in there too. So when the ex showed up to the festivities it was a bit tense, at least for New Squeeze. N.S. ended up vacating to the garage for awhile while sister in law insisted there was no problem. Eventually the ex left and N.S. got to rejoin us. Yeah. Well, the rest of the night N.S. took about 100 pictures on his new digital camera. Until I hid the stupid thing! The rest of the night went pretty smooth. My 19 year old was very quiet. We broke out the peace pipe a few days before. He did not have a lot to open, I'm afraid most of his Christmas budget went to taking care of the car he cracked up. We are talking, though, and that's been going well. Did get a heavy hint regarding rent, and my response was "too bad, better start selling stuff.." All in all it was a great holiday, I am glad we were all there and well, but I am also glad it's over!

It's been awhile since I've blogged, as with everyone a lot has happened. I guess I'll start with the most disturbing issue. My emotions have been overwhelming-when I reach that point I seem to partially shut down, just to function. I guess I've decided to let it out, now. My nineteen year old is in a tail spin. Literally as well as figuratively. Last Tuesday night/Weds. morning he cracked up the Sable. It was his car but he hadn't transferred the plates over yet, so the car was still officially ours. He spun out on a curve and impaled the car on the guard rail. The back quarter panel is so badly damaged it was almost unrecognizable. The tire is slammed into the wheel well, the rear suspension is destroyed. There is a hole torn into the car ending at the rear bumper, at least where the bumper used to be. The hole is big enough for a person to crawl into the trunk. The fuel tank neck was flattened and had gouges in it, indicating it was resting on the rail. He was very lucky! When the police found the car it still had the head lights on. The drivers' door was open, but my son was no where to be found. He had left the scene. The car was partially blocking the road, so the officer called for backup and a tow, then went to look for Chris. When that proved futile they ran the plates. Shortly thereafter my husband woke up to a police officer knocking on the door and 2 squad cars in the driveway. To make a long story short Chris was found. He had taken off with some friends to "find help." There were hand prints on the car, indicating they tried to push it back on to the road, but it looks like once they couldn't do it they left. Chris claimed to have hit black ice and lost control. The police officer has that part of the road as part of his beat. He drove through there 11 times and never encountered black ice. I drove it at about 6:30 am on my way home from work. No ice. No we think he left because he was stoned or drunk and knew if he was caught that way he'd be back in jail right now! After the police report was filed we were able to get to the car. Cid wanted to barf(my husband),he worked on that car for nine weekends and we put about a grand into it. Chris's grandfather bought the car. The car needed at least about $6000 worth of repairs done to it and it still would have never been the same. The car is worth less than $2000. Cid signed it over to the tow truck company and walked away. We still had to pay $185 in towing and impoundment fees. The kid doesn't seem to get it. He thinks oh well it's just an accident. But he has other problems going on along with it. Besides the fact this is the third car he smashed up in three years, and when you consider about a year in there behind bars-there's a problem. When he got out of jail he seemed so changed. He was extemely grateful and we really thought he finally learned. So to help him "level" the playing field we wanted to help him on his feet. Two months later, he has lost his job(he says he found another one, as a snow shoveler)he was late on his rent, though he did pay it before the late fee kicked in. I think he's smoking weed and drinking, and he is smoking cigarettes-an expensive habit, as well as addictive. The kid has been acting like nothing is wrong and like we have the problem. He called me for a ride to his probation officer the next morning after the accident. He had not listened to the nasty message I left him on his voice mail. When I told him no, ask one of your buddies(his apartment is a hang out now, and at least one kid has decided to"squat" there after an argument with his parents..) Chris exploded and exclaimed he couldn't believe I was fucking him over. After telling him no you're the one fucking me over, I told him I am not speaking to him anymore and hung up. We are not lifting a finger for him. No money, no doing laundry at our house, no more food bags, nothing. Cid went to McDonald's two nights ago to pick up some food for the kids. One of Chris's friends work there. She asked how the car was comming along. Cid said it was turned over, it was too destroyed to fix. She was surprised, she had just talked to Chris yesterday and he said the car was drivable, he said my husband was fixxing it. Cid responded that Chris was with him when the car was released, and he knew it was totaled. We are still scratching our heads over that one. How could he tell his friends such a story? He's down playing it. Or in denial. Christmas really has a pall over it. We are going through he motions for the younger boys, but it is tough. My feelings go from numbness to shock to wanting to kill this kid. I want him to stay away from me until he grows up. I hope he can make it but he is no longer my problem. As I said in my message to him, I love you but you are on your own. It is very painful too, but sometimes the best way to help someone is to stop helping. It's time. Thanks for listening. Midnight 43

Lately I have been a bit worked up. It's been a busy week as usual, so no visits to the blog lately-thanks for the visit, Colo. I'm flattered you put me on your favorites list. I will make more comments, a few have been on blogs that haven't been active lately-your blog is what brought me to this blog stream. You and your friends are great, honest and intelligent. Being here is like being in a small town full of friends who care for you both in your perfection and your flaws. Even the asshole has a place-yuk yuk! (I was reading Dazey's blog ....) I think in life we all take a turn being the asshole, but hopefully we can be in a place that when we STOP being one, we can be forgiven. I think that's allowed here, with the prerequisite that we also forgive ourselves. Oh yes, I have had my turn, more than once. Lately I have managed to be better than that, but still, maybe a little stupid. My nineteen year old son has been out of jail for just over two months. He has been doing ok, although stumbling here and there. Well, he got some mail here. When he came by to do his laundry he got it, opened it, and left it behind. I actually didn't read it-I have to admit, though, I just hadn't gotten around to it-my husband got to it and read it and then showed me. My son owes over $20,000 in restitution. This was not his first notice, either, from the tone of the letter. So he's ignoring it. Maybe he hopes it will go away. I want to step in and nag, advise, etc. NO I am not paying any of it, my husband and I have helped a lot getting him on his feet and independent(?), but he did do the crime(it was a nasty, I prefer not to go into what the crime was right now, except to tell you it was a felony.) It's hard not to get involved, though. I am also pretty cynical these days, and wonder if he wanted me(us?) to find it? Well we did. All that's going to happen from my end is worrying. I have decided not to say anything. I will hand him his mail the next time I see him, say, "you forgot this," and move on. Most of the worry comes from not knowing what will happen. His committing this crime proves I have no control or say so over his actions, and haven't for some time. His actions affected the entire family, painfully, especially me. I was lost for awhile, and discovered that my co-dependent relationship with my husband was a farce. I needed him to help me, but for a long time that didn't happen. In fact, he got angry and mean because I no longer put him first! That's changed, thank God, counseling(for both of us) and the divorce papers I served him...another story. I am venting. Maybe I need to reaffirm that I am powerless over everything, except maybe me. I DO have control issues, ya know? Just gets so crazy sometimes, my head, I mean, when it comes to my kids. When they are born you have all these plans for them. President, Ivy League colleges, etc. It's their lives, though, although we can set examples and try to nurture them, there are no guarantees. Still hurts. See you guys later. Thanks for listening.