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Entries from May 2008

Friday, May 30, 2008

What Would Jeremy Do?

I'm guilty of being extremely nasty when one possesses something I truly covet.
Seeing "Jeremy Christ" with what appears to be a Buxton Organizer, pushed me to the limits of restraint of pen and tongue (not keyboard)

If I don't laugh I'll cry...

The "Haves" and the "Have Nots"
I can honestly say, if I had "Buckets of money",
I'd be spending it silly trying to make a difference in this world before I left.

My laundry list:

Teachers, who spend out of pocket to educate our children
Medical coverage/prescriptions for people trying to better their lives
Housing rehab for the thousands of homeless on waiting lists
Forcing Mega all churches to go green before they kill us all with all their virgin hand-outs.

To think of a few.

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On a happier note, it's officially summer.
I don't have buckets of money, but I have Mer.
How miraculous is that?

This picture of 'shivering denizen' Mer would not be possible without Lara and Cheryl...now if I can just get them to start blogging too!

Sunday, May 25, 2008

Paseo Arts Festival

I have this group (OK, two isn't a group) of friends, who so far I haven't frightened into protective custody as the result of my train wreck of a life.

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I do have a tendency these days to keep some of the more gory aspects of my past, present and future between myself and Mother Theresa of Calcutta...Oh, wait she died.
Um...I write about stuff just not HERE, but I'll try to be intriguing none-the-less less.

Yesterday, for the first time in four months I did something social with these friends. That may sound absurd to the majority of you, but I'm an isolator.
Twas that Mer-boy were not in so many extra curricular related school activities, and now summer also...I'd be digging a hole to deposit my head (you thought I was gonna say eggs, uh huh) all Ostrich-style.

The only Arts Festival I really enjoy with Mer is this weekend The Paseo Arts Festival whoops it up!

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My friend Brian, was having an open house at his design studio "Ghost Design". There was free food, drinks, and a really nice potty, so we went.
Besides the amenities and uber asthetics, Brian is funny as hell.
This is a rather slimming picture of Brian...don't you think?

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I'm going to introduce you now, to the "Mother of the Year", (in Apostol's world) Mrs. Ms., uuuh, Miss Lara! Formerly an OTR Pro Trucker, Miss Lara left it all behind to birth that youngin'.  Miss Lara loves "Pre-70's Elvis", "Bay City Rollers", and "The Jonas Brothers".  Is into all things Harley and Davidson, digs Frida as much as I do. (except her mother was kind enough not to place "Self-portrait w/monkey" above HER crib, so mines more of an ISSUE than a DIGS)

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There is Cheryl.
Cheryl is beautiful, kind, compassionate, keeps me on track when I start thinking I am the sun. (that's me in the picture next to Cheryl) Cheryl is tolerant of others (OK, me) and knows that she knows that she doesn't know squat. Her heart is made of platinum, (as is Lara's) and watching these women struggle with the same feeeelings I do is helping annihilate my terminal uniqueness.

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We try to achieve the same goals "Laughter at our insane lives, so as to not flood lake Havasu" (seeing that we're nowhere near Havasu...can you imagine?)

Sew, we do the best we have with what we have. Someday's better than others and yes I know I spelled so like sew.
Dang.

Life is changing, moving in summery directions. Faith, not fear will provide.
Real and true will guide.

Learning to love again takes courage.
Courage isn't the absence of fear.

It's havin' bitchin' shoes and being able to wear them well.

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Friday, May 16, 2008

Momnesia (you know you got it too)

Where have I been?
I've been suffering from "Momnesia"

If I make it until school is out, which of course I will, Mer and I will both be better people for the year. But y'all, I'm tired as hell, can't write to save my life, and am more busy than if I were working a full time paying job.

How do people do it with no family? No babysitters called "mom", "dad" and all the in-betweens? No one is going to save me but me, yet I'm supposed to "Turn it over"?

Right.

Well, for all of you out there bitching about your "Other", just try imagining what it would be like without that "Other"?
For all of you complaining about all your "Problems", if money can fix them, they 'aint problems. They're inconveniences, and inconveniences pass.

Terminal Cancer does not pass, it consumes.

Wake up and smell reality...you are blessed beyond words.
If you don't like your job, get a new one or work for yourself.
If you have a healthy kid ((hug)) them tight and thank GOD they are.

If your heart is broke, it will heal.
If (big if) you're brave enough to take the risk of letting someone in again.

When I was a ginormous cow, people either looked right through me (ignored) or ridiculed me.

When I was 98 lbs, I felt nothing because I was cannibalizing my internal organs (including my brain)

When I was numb on chemicals I didn't care what happened and called it "Faith".

When I met someone I liked, I took them hostage.
When I released my hostages I became a victim.

Life is precious short, and things make us feel whole...temporarily.
Then what? If nothing changes nothing changes.

Momnesia wants a nap to help Mer-boy grow.

I believe miracles are among us, if only we keep our head out of the toilet.
One Day At A Time.

Saturday, May 10, 2008

On The Wind "Nutz The Cat"

Showers, when little boys are sleeping over at other little boys houses...are good places to cry for the lost ones we cannot speak of.

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Thursday, May 08, 2008

Teacher Appreciation Week: Wilson Arts Integration School

If I had the time to do it "Right", I'd make a handmade card for each.
If I had one more set of hands, I'd make those handmade cards, I can see them now, ooh they're pretty...look at that one with the sea blue ocean glass beads on it.
If I had the energy, I'd make these hands, and feet, get up and MOVE, to Michael's or Hobby Lobby, that's what I'd do.

However, eh hem...I do not have the time nor the energy (heart I have) to accomplish this task today. These teachers, your children's and mine, deserve so much more than they receive from us as parents.

They are NOT, I repeat NOT babysitters. They are Educators.
Some of this nations most talented and most underpaid.
They are spat at, yelled at, ignored, and completely disrespected.

It only progresses as the child becomes a young adult, and if you don't believe me, just look here. You can keep digging through Youtube, it only gets worse.

I was raised in a different era.
They had corporal punishment then, something considered abuse in this generation of teaching...but...if memory serves me, and it does every other Tuesday after a full moon...those "Problem" kids responded to the discipline, usually quite fast.

Now this post isn't about whether or not corporal punishment was and or is effective, it's about TEACHER APPRECIATION WEEK.
It's about being grateful if your child is excelling, and hopeful if they aren't because of teachers. It's certainly not because we as parents have done it, if it were they'd all be home schooled by Meth addicts. (NOT to imply all home schoolers are Meth addicts, only the ones in Hennessey)

I'm trying to be as civil as I can, while making a point.

If every other neighborhood school had a Principal as dedicated to her school, staff, children and parents as Wilson Arts Integration, and if every other neighborhood school had parents who believed as Wilson parents believe, who took action as Wilson parents do, (and it's not about money, it's about ACTION) then every other neighborhood school would begin coming back up.

Mer-boy may not like having to leave his video games and comic books five days a week, but by gosh he knows how to read those video games and comic books.

Each one of Mer's teachers, from the least to the greatest in contact, has had a profound impact on my child. Each Teacher has a different style, approach, communication technique, some like to get dirty with the little mongrels, others prefer teaching from a far.
Some control, control, control, while others let it slide. The ones who use humor reach Mer the fastest and deepest and will never be forgotten in his heart.

Mer, I was told, would never learn, never catch up, "Never be capable of doing what his peers did academically speaking", from not one, but four "Specialists".

Those "Specialists" never met the Educators at Wilson Arts Integration School.

One day after a bitter divorce, loss of home and all the messiness that goes with it, I stumbled upon this neighborhood school. (the thought of driving Mer back to his old school every day made me want to cry) I went to my first PTA meeting blown away by all the absolute passion and alive magic at Wilson.

As a single parent, life is just what it is. Sometimes hard, sometimes hardly coherent, I persevered. Working two jobs, working nights, working 60-80 hours a week, missing PTA meetings, forgetting about awards assemblies, shoving Mer's IEP down anyones throat who dared to speak (which involves opening of the mouth)

I was John Wayne meets Martha Stewart, with Ellen's smart assisms thrown in for effect.

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I kicked (not knocked) in doors and demanded my child be handled with kid cloves (silk lined kid cloves no less) My presence was unwelcome, unwarranted while these amazing teachers, in all their years of experience and specialty training...just smiled ( I wont even write what was most likely going through their heads) Probably hoping against hope we'd be long gone by this year.

The Staff &Teachers at Wilson Arts Integration School, have saved Mer's, given him a foundation to which he can build on, that's what education is about. It's not just social integration we send our children away from us for, it's not just learning the necessary tools of survival in the world, educational or otherwise, it's to have adult role models other than our parents.

Adult role models.
Adult male role models if you will.

Mer has a mother, now far more than ever in the last three years.
A father figure he has not. By their very presence in his life on a daily basis, these male teachers, coaches, and other dads are having an impact on my son whether they like it or not.

When a school like Wilson embraces a family, and that's what they do, it helps not only the child but the other family members also. The saying "It takes a Village" comes to my mind.

My heart, the broken, cold, hard one...has begun to soften over the last three months.  Mer's Psychologist tested him yesterday, he's reading at a 6th grade level.

There's a perceptual problem somewhere were trying to get to the bottom of, so we know how to help him. It's cruelly unfair to all involved...the overcrowding, lack of understanding, lack of support.

Our Educators are not babysitters, they spend a good portion of their own income to obtain the items needed in the classroom. Remember: They are paid of the lowest in the nation and are in the top five best educated in the country.

No teacher can teach well with 30 kids in her class.

Think back to your own 2nd, 3rd, or 4th grade class picture, THINK about how small your class was.

It takes a village, so be a part of your village. Don't wait for teacher appreciation week (although formal acknowledgment is vital)

My Gratitude:

Mrs Beverly Story - Principal
Mrs. Karolyn Corbett - 3rd Grade
Mrs. Barbara Adams - Lab
Ms. Marty Fowler - P.E. - Rhythm & Movement
Mr. Greg Eskridge - Rhythm & Movement - Drama
Mr. Lanny Schuh - Visual Arts
Mr. Andrew Hoppers - 2nd Grade
Dr. Pamela Hoppers - Librarian
Mr. Neal Kellogg - Music
Ms. Pamela Miller - Counselor
Mrs Rebecca Anderson - Strings
Mrs Judy Jaworsky - Secretary

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Sunday, May 04, 2008

Camp Kickapoo!...But First, a Crisis in 3 Acts

I don't believe God doesn't give you more than you can handle, I believe he/she/it helps you handle the shit storm of life that occasionally comes at you.

As I was packing the beast for the camp out Friday night, throwing blankets from the garage into it's mouth in preparation for a cold hard ground. I'd opened the large garage door and was rushing, freaking out (because that's what I do when faced with a new situation)

Nutz The Cat had been missing since the big wind storm three weeks ago.
Nutz the Cat is no longer missing...fuck...fuck...FUCK.

It was at this juncture I forgot how to think, forgot what to pack, forgot my name. Sorta like pot without the good feeling. I'm going to say this once because I hate the machine, but "Thank God for my stupid iphone", because I literally plugged in and started hitting "Favorites".

First all I got was C.C.'s v/m, (to which I vehemently expressed my feelings over the immediate find) then hallelujah Mary...Lara answered and said "Get OUT of the garage"

I can do that, yeah, OK...what next?
Because I believe God, for lack of a better Universal term, speaks to us through other people, God used Lara's absolute motherhood and love to walk me through the next hour. Every time I started to go "There", she reigned me back in, literally walking me through packing that camping trip.

C.C. called me back. We talked about our lost creatures, hers just a month ago. How they give pure love, want nothing in return, feel loyalty in a way humans never can with our ego's.

You all walked me through Nutz The Cat being lost, then miraculously coming home one day. Prayers maybe, good thoughts, matters not what we call it, it's real.

Mer-boy was so excited about this trip, I knew enough from you to just let him go once we arrived at camp. I bought Mer his first pocket knife (which he's utterly terrified of) but by God he had one in his pocket.

I wished for my dad to be there, in a deep aching way you'll never know, since my brother might sue me if I write about it. Just as I was struggling to put up the tent by myself, this English/Australian Gentleman walked up and said "The Cavalry's arrived". (and thank GAWD for the Cavalry) or Mer and I'd have slept back at the entrance in the back of the Pathfinder.

Up went the tent, in went all our crap, then I drove the Pathy back up to the front and dropped her off with all the Beemers and Mini Vans, poor baby. Then I walked back to camp, keeping in mind this is the first time since I broke my foot I've had regular shoes on.

I saw Mer at dinner, bed, breakfast. I helped at dinner fold aluminum "Hobo Stew" thingy's, but other than that, these Den-Master-leader-scout-guys have it down to an art. I regret not knowing more about what they do, because in all sincerity, they do it well. I could never do what these guys do with so much joy for these kids. I can in different ways, but not like this.

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They made burrito-egg-hamburger-things in plastic bags over boiling water...I don't even have a refrigerator! (have a really cool compost pile though)

I so wish I'd not had a broken heart that night, but Mer had a total blast being free. I believe that's the point of it all. Watching these boys run free, exploring together, bonding, becoming...young men. I'm gonna cr...Oh crap there she goes...

Then as we were leaving Mer and some of the guys wanted to show me "Sleepy Hollow"...me, they wanted to show me not some dad, me. (bring the camera mom!)

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I'm going to leave Nutz The Cat a mystery unsolved for Mer, because I'm his mother that's why. Because sometimes in life enough is enough. It just is. I'm doing eveything I can to be the mother I wasn't before, trying to lighten up on myself, while at the same time giving more.

On a fact finding, fact facing mission about myself, one I cannot do alone and the Universe knows this, has and will continue to give exactly what I need when I need it.

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This is why we pay forward.
Thank you.

Friday, May 02, 2008

Camping: a Right of Passage in Mamadom Too

I'm going to take Mer camping.
Like my father took me, time and time again.

I'm going to do this without a husband or wife, without a father or uncle, without a best friend to laugh with...I'm taking Mer camping with a bunch of mostly dad's, who may or may not, particularly like me...and their opinion of me is none of my business.

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I am prepared to be miserable, with the option I may have fun.

A massive cold front moved through last night, dropping the 90 degree heat, to a comfortable daytime high hopefully near 75. You all know what tonight will be like, correct? Cold.

Mama doesn't do cold.
Neither for that matter does Mer. Mer dances, plays tag, picks flowers, and enjoys his time with mama regardless of what gigantic misadventure I get us into...we are bound.

The question I've been asking myself is this:
Do I, once the reality sets into my child's mind we aren't sleeping in our beds sets in, force the issue - making sure he lasts the night in all it's potential misery/joy...or do I load him up and come home?

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It's one of many instances along a path of liberation he/we will walk.
I can stop whining about fairness now, and rise to the occasion of raising a boy to man. Whatever it takes.

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