The New Year is off and running, and Friend House has a few issues with us. My house and I have a love/hate thing going, I fell for this house hard, so we bought it. The hubby loved it too. It was pretty rough, worn out, but it had a solid foundation, a decent layout and sat on a piece of land to die for. Only an acre, but surrounded by woods and a view of a lake. Flash forward three and a half years. New well, new water softener, fixed the furnace. Trying to get gardens put in but time seems to be the issue here. New roof three weeks ago, finished just hours before a snow storm. Now the furnace is acting up again, and the water pressure is dropping, although that may be a filter problem-or the hot water tank is dying. My marriage almost died here, too. We each take responsibility for the issues-there were a lot!! The marriage is like this house, I think. Always gotta keep on top of it, one thing gets fixed something else needs attention. Sometimes I get tired. With my marriage, the communication, the respect, it's there. We are a great team when it comes to the kids. But I feel-empty. When the divorce papers were put through I remember how I felt. Scared, because this was the first time I was striking out on my own-no safety net this time, no boyfriend waiting for me. All the same, I looked forward to it. I was excited! My life, all mine. I was very worried for my boys, though, they loved their dad so much. Not having dad in the house was going to be tough. I tried justifying it-all those late nights, the business trips-not much different was it? But I knew that was bullshit. I remember when the divorce was final when I was a kid. It IS different. You KNEW he was not coming home. All his stuff,gone. The sounds and smells you picked up on even late at night that said daddy was home-the rumble of his car engine when he pulled in the driveway. The smell of cigarettes as he walked through the house. His cough, hearing his steps. All gone. Self doubt crept in. I had all the shit going on with Chris(my son)-court dates, then jail, the overwhelming heartache that comes when you realize your son no longer has the opportunities he could have. Fighting the knowledge that your own flesh and blood committed a crime that hurt someone else. A crime that brought up memories in me, memories of a crime that happened to me long ago, long buried but still alive. I had nightmares those days, waking up sobbing and shaking, so bad that hubby would come in, despite all that was happening, come in from the couch, and hold me. Next morning I would be Just Fine. All emotions shut down. Functioning as a Mother, sending the boys to school, cleaning house, going to work...I was so sure I didn't love my husband any more, doing the right thing. But was this the time to make a decision like this? I was so shut down-how could I be sure I even knew what I was feeling? One day the hubby found a lump on his testicle. He was scared out of his mind. He set up an appointment to go check it out but still he was pretty shaky about it all. When I offered to go with him he jumped on it! Odd as it was that day he got the check up ended up being a great day. We talked so much. The lump ended up being a false alarm. We continued to hash out all the crap. Talked honestly, revealed some painful secrets, examined both our flaws and our strengths. I suggested maybe we take our marriage one day at a time, especially for our kids. I thought we could try being friends(with benefits-sex was still good, surprisingly.) Ever since that's what we've been doing. Paying attention, listening, making repairs where needed. Our kids have noticed and responded. We parents think we do such a good job hiding things, what a joke. Kids know way more than they let on. Sadly they often even feel responsible. We had to fix that too. There's still this, though-we've been on the "one day at a time" deal for over a year. Why haven't I fallen back in love? Even my sons situation has changed-still not great, but he's not in jail anymore. I am not shut down, not like I was. There is love there, he's the father of my sons, he a great human being..but I know if the kids were not here, I would be on my own, we'd be loving friends but he would not be my mate..I still have that pang of regret, of not being on my own-but that's selfish. I have boys in my care that deserve everything, and for sure a father!! Why can't get the feelings back? I'll keep chipping away at it, like my house, keep fixing the leaks and repairing holes. At least the foundation is good, right? I keep looking for cracks. Haven't found one with the house-but there's a few in me, I think.

 

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