Through the Eyes of Children

As a baby, Tyler, my seven year old, didn't get his first two teeth until he was a year old, so it's only understandable that he would lose them late also. He's had a bottom one loose for a few weeks now, but his top ones suddenly became so loose I thought they'd fall out when he wasn't looking. Last Wednesday, one of his top teeth became so loose that he walked around the yard, with a fan club of friends cheering him on, trying to get that tooth out. After about an hour, it finally gave up its struggle and realized that Ty was stronger than it was. He'd finally lost his first tooth. He was so proud I thought he was going to burst. Thank goodness I was ready. I'd hidden a few singles in my room for just this occasion - I don't usually carry cash on me so I knew I had to be prepared for Tooth Fairy visits.

We took pictures to send to the kids' dad in New York, so he wouldn't completely miss out on the experience; and I posted Ty's good news on my Facebook page. Zach was getting very upset because, while he had a lower tooth that was also loose, it just wouldn't come out no matter how hard Zach tried. He was just so disappointed that Tyler would get a dollar from the Tooth Fairy but he wouldn't get anything. All three kids went to bed that night, as usual, and I had to stay up a little later than usual to make sure Ty was really asleep when I went in to make the tooth/money exchange.

What was really funny was that, the next morning after I woke them, Ty didn't even look under his pillow to see what the Tooth Fairy left him. He just went about his business of getting ready for school. It was Zach who made the discovery for Tyler. When I asked Ty why he didn't check under his pillow, he responded that he figured she'd leave the dollar on the dresser or something. I explained how it works so he'd be prepared for the next Tooth Fairy visit. Then it was off to school.

I drove them that morning because, by the time Zach got his shoes on, it was too late to walk. I watched them walk up to the door of the school, and Tyler was all smiles as he passed friend after friend. As I wrote on Facebook, it was like he'd reached a childhood right of passage with the loss of his tooth. He was just grinning from ear to ear, showing off the gap where his tooth had been. He was so proud that I couldn't help but laugh to myself. I was totally enjoying the experience with him. I can't remember if I was that proud or not when I lost my baby teeth, but I guess I must have been at some point.

Then, four days later, Ty was outside playing by himself when he came running into the house trying to stifle a smile. I looked up at him from where I was sitting and he thrust his hand toward me with his other top tooth proudly displayed in his palm. Then he smiled fully and I couldn't help but laugh at his big, toothless grin. It also gave me a pang of longing because my first-born baby is no longer a "baby." He's getting his grown-up teeth now and will never again have that same adorable "little kid" smile that he had just nine days ago. He's growing up; but that's to be expected.

Two day ago, Zach jumped on the bandwagon and lost that bottom tooth - finally. He came bursting through the door after school, grinning and whooping that his tooth fell out. The nurse gave him a tiny green treasure chest to hold the tooth so he wouldn't lose it on his way home. Of course, he was glad it fell out, and he was looking forward to the Tooth Fairy visit, too; but his biggest concern was not that he'd lost the tooth, but that he wanted that dollar. He couldn't care less if people noticed the tooth was gone; he wants to go shopping and wants to know what the Tooth Fairy looks like.

Bedtime that night, this past Tuesday, was the same as it is every night; but I still had to make the exchange when I went to give them their extra kisses before I went to bed. Every night I go into their room to make sure they're covered and kiss them on the cheek while wishing them happy dreams. I tuck them in at bedtime; this is just my little extra for the night. So, I made the tooth/money exchange under the corner of Zach's pillow. We'd left the Tooth Fairy a note asking her to take the tooth but to leave the treasure chest so Zach could re-use it when he needed to. That she did. She took the note and the tooth, but left the dollar and the treasure chest. Then Mom went to bed.

Not twenty minutes later, I was semi-sitting in bed watching TV when I heard the boys' bedroom door open and heard one of them run to the bathroom. I started to get nervous, thinking I'd been caught in the act. Zach came to my bedroom door asking if he could sleep with me; he was scared. I told him to go get his tooth so the Tooth Fairy could find it where he was sleeping. He ran back to his room and came to mine all smiles, dancing a little jig. She'd been there already, unnoticed; or so I thought. As Zach climbed into my bed, I asked him if he'd seen her come to his room and he nodded. Then I got really nervous. I asked him to tell me what she looked like and he said, "She was very tiny, and all sparkly." I asked him how big she is and he held his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. WHEW!! I'd thought I was in for a slew of questions and child disappointment.

The next morning, when Zach came downstairs after getting ready for school, he gave me a full-blown account of his Tooth Fairy experience. He saw a little, sparkly light come flying into his room and under the corner of his pillow. Then he saw his tooth floating away as the Tooth Fairy collected it. Then she returned to his room and he saw the dollar floating toward him as she carried it right under the corner of his pillow and left it. When I asked why he didn't get me so I could see her too, he said, "Next time she comes, I'll ask her to wait so you can meet her." That would be great.

Tyler didn't seem too upset that he didn't get to see her when she visited him; but Zach told everyone he knew about her visit and his chance encounter. And to think, I was nervous about having to explain why the Tooth Fairy looks like me. I guess I worried for nothing. :)

The Saga Continues...

I can't seem to figure out why, whenever I try to do something nice for someone, I end up getting the shit end of the stick. It never fails. Every time I help someone out, it comes back to bite me in the ass for no good reason. It happens to me all the time and, just today, the neighbor who'd been in the hospital last week, stood at my front stoop screaming and yelling at me, telling me I had no business watching her kids while she was away; and that her husband, the one from whom she's separated, had no right to ask me to do it. She went on and on about how he’s a piece of trash, that I didn’t take that good of care of her children, and that he and I had no business even speaking to one another.

The entire time she was screaming at me, I just sat on the step and let her vent, although I really wanted to stand up and tell her what a jackass she is. Rather than being grateful that someone was even there to watch her kids, and that they didn’t have to spend time with their dad while he was at work, she’d rather bitch and gripe because he didn’t do exactly what she wanted when she wanted it done. Then, to go off on me, when I did absolutely nothing wrong, was completely insane. Whatever her problems are with her husband, she doesn’t need to put me in the middle of it all. When she'd stop to take a breath, I would tell her that all we did was talk, that I watched and fed her children, and that she needed to take her problems up with herself because I didn’t want any part of it.

She also spent time telling me what a bad mother I am-which I absolutely know is untrue-and the entire time she was screaming at me, my kids and hers, as well as all the neighbors, were standing there watching and listening. When I pointed out to her that she had no business discussing my parenting skills when she wasn’t, at that moment, setting a very good example for her children, her response was that she didn’t care that her children were standing there watching. Nice, right? At that point, I politely dismissed her. I told her I was finished listening to her and that she needed to leave, then I told her to have a nice day. She just looked at me and said she wouldn’t have a nice day, to which I responded, “Well, I guess that’s your choice, and you really can’t blame that on anyone but yourself.” So she walked away, and headed promptly to another neighbor’s house to vent about me, all the while still screaming in front of her kids.

Later this evening, I was sitting on my stoop talking on the phone to my friend Connie while my kids played outside when I noticed her husband come home from work, then start loading his belongings into his truck. I’m not sure if she told him to leave, or if he chose to leave. I had called him earlier in the day to report his wife’s behavior, and to let him know that if she ever came to my home screaming at me again, I’d have her arrested for harassment. Then, I’d apologized to my kids, and to hers, for them having to listen to her scream and rant the way she did. I thought that was only fair. So I don’t know if they spoke during the day or what, but I do know that, as he was getting in his truck to leave, she again stood on her stoop yelling at him, and threatening him, while my daughter, 3 years old, was standing near our home listening to the whole thing. This woman has absolutely no respect for the fact that there are others on this planet besides her.

I really want to let this go but I’m having trouble with it. I’m not the type of person to turn people down when they want favors, but I’m really getting tired of all the ungrateful assholes who want to throw their shit on me when I’ve spent my time helping them. I also don’t want my kids to see me treat people that way because that’s not the way I want them to be. I want them to be able to help people when it’s needed but not get the wrath that I always get. As my friend Connie pointed out to me when I told her all about it, “No good deed goes unpunished.” After today, I’m inclined to believe that, however, I really don’t want to. I want to believe that people actually appreciate it when others offer assistance. I know I do. I’m completely and totally grateful for all the help I’ve received over the past few years and would never dream of turning on any one of the people who’ve been there for me when I needed them. I know I’m not the only one, and it sure would be nice to meet some others.

Right now, I’m just counting my blessings. I’ve got three beautiful children, wonderful family members, and some spectacular friends, most of whom I know personally, and others whom I met during my online college experience and have only spoken to on the phone, but have “known” for a few years. I would do anything for any of them, at any given time, in any give place. As far as my helping neighbors and acquaintances again in the future, that remains to be seen

Rumors and other junk

I'm sitting here wondering how people can have so much time on their hands that they have nothing better to do than to interfere in the lives of others. See, I live in HUD subsidized housing, for the time being. I've just finished my Bachelors Degree, and I'm in the process of trying to get work so I can save money and move. I've lived here just over two years, while I was attending school, and have come to know many of my neighbors, most of who don't work, or do anything else, for that matter. While I wouldn't really call them friends, I do know a lot about them just from the short talks we have while we're sitting outside when our children are playing together; what I hear from them, stays with me; I never pass on any information that is private. Recently, though, something has changed in the cul-de-sac. People who were friendly just two weeks ago have suddenly started shunning me, talking behind my back, and turning my children away from their doors.

There’s one neighbor I talk with who is pretty nice, but who suffers from mental illness, so her moods flip-flop constantly. She’s got two children and her estranged husband living with her. They’ve both told me, at different times, that they no longer have a marriage but that it’s economically feasible for him to be there to help with the bills, and convenient for him to help with the kids when symptoms of her illness take over and she’s incapable of doing so. That’s all well and good; but none of my business. Still, we all talk-she and I, he and I-whatever.

A couple of weeks ago he came into my home to fix an appliance and a few days later the wife tells me that there is a rumor going around that I’m having an affair with her husband. She said it was stupid, but that she didn’t even care because they aren’t together any more. I had to laugh because anyone in the area that knows me knows that I’m sitting at my computer most nights, alone-and my computer is on the wall directly opposite my living room door. Anyone who looks can see what I’m doing. Besides, regardless of the fact that they’re separated, as they say, they’re still married and I’m just not interested in getting in the middle of that. In retrospect, just from other things she’s said to me about herself and her “marriage,” I realized that she got the “affair” idea all on her own because of her illness. So be it.

Last week, however, she had a bad episode and had to be hospitalized for about a week. While she was away, I was helping her husband take care of the kids. I took them to school, since they go with my kids; I picked them up from school when I picked up my own kids; I child-sat them while their dad was at work; and I fed them dinner because he got home past a regular dinner time. He’d get home and take the kids home to get them ready for bed and school the next day. On the weekend, they were with me all day so he could work his second job.

In the evenings, after all the kids-mine and his-were in bed, he and I would talk-either me at his place, him at mine, or out on the front stoop. Our front doors were wide open so we could watch for our respective kids if they got out of bed, or needed us for any reason. We’d talk and watch TV. What we didn’t realize, for a day or so, was that his wife had called another neighbor to keep an eye on us. They would talk on the phone daily and the wife would ask questions of the neighbor, who, in turn, would give her report, however the information she gave was completely untrue. Not only would the spying neighbor watch us from her windows, but she went into other neighbors’ homes and watched us-I guess to get different visual angles-thus spreading the lies and rumors further through the cul-de-sac. She had to explain why she wanted in their homes.

The wife came home a few days ago and things have gone completely downhill since then, although they had started to go badly a few days before. Because the spying neighbor twisted the truth in her own mind, and because she believed whatever she’d heard from a mentally ill friend, she began to form her own opinions of me, and won’t even let my three-year-old daughter into her home to play with her own little girl. She’s always got an excuse for keeping my daughter from playing, and sends her home where my daughter cries to me because she isn’t allowed to play. This was almost every day when the wife was away, and still continues. Not only does the spying neighbor not have the common sense to realize that the information she’s receiving from her friend is all imaginary, but she’s feeding these delusions with her own made up information, making the mentally ill neighbor that much more unstable.

Now, most everyone in the cul-de-sac has stopped talking to me and him, and all because nobody has bothered to ask either one of us the truth. Geez, if talking is a crime I should have been arrested years ago. What I find really funny is that I’ve always gotten along with men better than with women simply because of things like this. If I tell a man something personal, he keeps it to himself; if I tell a woman, there’s a good chance it’ll be spread to everyone who wants to listen. That’s why my friends are few and select, and I trust them implicitly. This spying neighbor, not a month ago, was telling my daughter that she was my friend. I’m sorry, but friends don’t do things like this to each other; and they certainly don’t bring their children into the middle of it the way she’s doing with my daughter.

I feel bad for her because she needs so much excitement in her life that she’s willing to lower herself to the point that she has. I can handle whatever she wants to toss my way, but my daughter is too young to understand. Not to mention the fact that Zach, my six year old, was asking me yesterday why this woman was telling lies about me. I had to explain to him that it was adult business and that he doesn’t need to worry about it. Now that’s really sad. I’m trying to raise my kids to be honest and respectful of others, and then they see a trusted adult doing exactly what I’m teaching them not to do.

I really wish my neighbors had more ambition in life than to sit around gossiping and spreading rumors. Let’s just hope they grow up before their own children realize what they’re doing and turn out just like them.

Because I Didn't...

When I was in my early twenties, and years before my mother died, I remember that she, my sister and I sat at our dining room table one day looking through a box of drawings and art projects my sister and I had made as children. My mother had found them so special that she saved them. As we look through the artifacts we laughed so hard we were crying, all three of us. The pictures and greeting cards were laden with mismatched colors, disproportionate figures, and misspellings that ran down the side of the page when there wasn’t enough room to finish writing across the top. Since we thought they were so funny, I asked my mother how she never laughed when we brought these works of art home and presented them to her. Her answer was a simple, “Because I didn’t.”

Just last week I found that box in my basement, now only filled with the works made by me as my sister’s had been returned to her years before. I decided to look through that box again, by myself this time, in the quiet, after my kids had been put to bed for the night. It had been, at least, ten years since I’d been through it last so I didn’t remember much of what was in it. I do know that some of the pictures went back to when I was three years old as the only drawing labeled with a date had my name, along with “1970” written in my mother’s handwriting. I could only speculate on my age when the rest of the art was made, unless I could specifically remember making it. This time, however, I didn’t laugh; I marveled at the simplicity of the earlier pictures drawn by a child who was probably so happy to be coloring that, to her, it was a masterpiece; and at how the art got better as time passed.

Today, Zach drew a picture for me: an orange, sunset sky that stopped a third of the way down the page, green grass that stopped a third of the way up the page-the two never meeting at the horizon; and the two of us standing together on the lawn. The fact that he is as tall as I am in the picture doesn't matter, even though he's a good 18 inches shorter than I am in real life. His head is way too small for his body, and his arms are longer than his legs. My hands are as large as my face, my legs are virtually non-existent, and my hair is green, along with my entire wardrobe because, he said, my favorite color is green. He's right about that. There was absolutely no way I could laugh when I saw his drawing because, to me, it was, and is, a beautiful depiction of a mother and son standing together at sunset; and he was filled with pride when he gave it to me and received a big hug and kiss in return.

While looking through the box last week didn’t bring back many memories, I did recall that conversation I’d had with my mother years before-and how she never laughed at our work. I also know that I’ve never laughed when my children have presented me with one of their drawings or cards from the time they could hold crayons; and I save many of them, just as my mother did, so my kids can see them when they're older. The pictures look just like what my sister and I did as children, and are getting better with each passing day; and they give my children a huge sense of pride and accomplishment. The joy on their little faces when I accept their gifts says everything. Now, I completely understand my mother’s answer to me, and, years from now, when my children put that same question to me, “Mom, how did you not laugh when we gave these to you?”, I’ll simply smile and say, “Because I didn’t.”

I Can't Believe I'm Finished

Yesterday was my last official day of school, and my final term was killer. I don't know if it was because the work was so difficult or because I was just anxious to be finished. I'm pretty sure it was the latter. I started my journey as a return student at Kaplan University e-college three years ago this month. The terms are not like regular college terms; there are no two-three month breaks in between terms. It's ten weeks on, one week off-all year long. It's pretty cool, though, because I got to do my work on my time, within reason, of course.

I only had two courses each term; that was more than enough when I was raising my kids at the same time. Lettie was only a month old when I started and I learned to type one-handed because I was nursing her at the same time my seminars were taking place. She actually grew up with me doing school work on a constant basis. Ty and Zach were five and three, and were old enough to understand what I was doing. They didn't like it much because it took time away from them, but I had to do it. As I got closer to the end, they got more and more antsy. They wanted me to finish as badly as I did.

So this last term was filled with one written assignment after another; both classes had a lot of writing for me to do. I didn't mind because I like writing, but when so many projects were due at the same time, it was hard. I kept up, though, and got everything submitted on time. I submitted my final project for the Crisis Intervention course on Saturday, the 13th, which left me three days to get my Capstone final done. It had to be turned in on Tuesday, the 16th. My kids were nervous and whiny, but I explained that I only had that one project left to complete and then I would be completely finished. I promised them that, if they left me alone, I would have the project complete before they walked in from summer school on Tuesday, at 4:15p.m. They left me alone.

I forced myself to stay up late nights to keep working on it, sometimes not going to bed before 1:00a.m.; and I sat at my computer all day, only taking breaks to feed the kids or myself. I thought my butt was going to stick to this chair permanently. Come Tuesday morning, I put the boys on the bus, gave Lettie her chocolate milk and some breakfast, and sat down at the computer again. I was almost finished and left the tedious parts for the very end. As I began writing up my tables and inserting page numbers, my neck and shoulders burned as if on fire. I went down the tables and topics, flipping back and forth to the project to find out which topics were on which pages, and putting the page numbers on the tables of contents and authorities.

I had only five left to do on the table of authorities, and I was counting down, my shoulders aching, and the clock ticking. It was 4:00. I had to be done before the boys got home. Five, four, three, only two more to go, last one. As I inserted the final page number, my whole being was flooded with such a sense of relief that I started to cry uncontrollably. I clicked ‘Save’ on the document one last time. Lettie was patting my arm asking what was wrong, and I didn't have the words to explain to a three-year-old child how happy I was. I was just signing in to my Kaplan homepage to submit my project when the boys walked in the door. I had kept my promise. I was finished! I couldn’t believe it. All that was left was waiting on grades and feedback.

I checked into my classrooms every day starting on Wednesday. I knew my grades wouldn’t be in that soon, but I had to hope. Finally, on Friday, I had my grade for the Capstone project. I got a perfect score with some wonderful commentary from my professor. On Saturday, I got my Crisis Intervention grade back, also with some great comments. I got A’s in both classes: 100% in Capstone, and 99.8% in Crisis Intervention. My GPA had been 3.99 since my second term and it is still there. I’m graduating Summa Cum Laude with a Bachelor of Science in Paralegal Studies. I’m so proud of myself. At the age of 41 I’m finally getting my college degree; a full 25 years after I graduated high school.

Now I can hang out with my kids for the rest of the summer, and get started on my internship in the fall. If everything works out the way I plan, I’ll be able to build a freelance clientele while I’m doing the internship and will still be able to work from home so I can be here for my kids. I can give them a better life than I had growing up; and we can live the life I’ve dreamed of for us; that we’ve dreamed of together. Who says perseverance and hard work don’t pay?

The End of School Days

Today was the last day of school for the boys. Ty finished up 1st grade and Zach finished up Kindergarten. We bought each of their teachers a card and a small gift to say goodbye. Zach's teacher was Ty's Kindergarten teacher last year and she did a great job with both of them, but she'll still be teaching Kindergarten next year so we'll only be seeing each other in passing. Ty's teacher is leaving the building to take a teaching position in another school in the area, so we won't be seeing her at all. She was wonderful with Ty and helped him progress so much. I'll miss both of them; they're really great teachers.

They had their Awards Assembly yesterday morning and it was fun. Both boys won awards for Writing and Attendance; Ty won an award for art and Zach won "Character Kid of the Year." That award is for showing character, not because he is one (he really is, though). I'm so very proud of them both. I was teary just watching them accept their certificates.

Now they get four days off before they start summer school. It's voluntary here in MO, for the lower grades. It gives the boys a chance to see what school will be like next year. There is still learning but no homework; and it helps them to remember what they learned this year. It's only for the month of June, but it keeps them occupied and they're not out playing in the streets all summer long.

By they time they're finished on July 2nd, I'll be finished with my degree-my last day of classes is June 23rd-so we can spend July and part of August together just hanging out in the yard. It'll be fun because they've complained for the past three years that my school work is more important than they are. They know it's not true but it's something to keep them whining. I'm willing to bet, though, that after spending a solid week with Mom at their sides-all day, every day, they'll be yelling at me to find something to do. "Mom, don't you have some laundry to do or something? You're invading our space." :) It's okay if they do complain because we all need a break from one another at some point. It'll be fine, I'm sure.

I can't wait to be able to just sit outside and watch them play or to join them in a game of tag. Right now I'm so wrapped up in finishing my final term that I'm about to lose my mind. It's really kicking my ass. The work is so involved and takes so long to research that my poor brain is on overload. That's why I'm here tonight. I have no projects to do this week, just getting ready for the final two weeks of actual graded work. Even though week seven of the ten-week term started today, I'm giving myself a break to kind of wind down and realign before I get to spend all day tomorrow sitting at the computer.

One thing I'm really looking forward to is ending the constant neck and back pain. My ass hurts, too, just from sitting here constantly, and my sciatic nerve is always pinching me. Imagine, a life free from body aches. Aaahhh. I know that will never happen, but even a little less ache is better that what I've got now. No worries. Soon enough I'll get to lie on the floor all day if I want to just to feel better. In the meantime, I'll look forward to the end of my classes and to spending a full six weeks with the kids-school work free. That'll definitely keep me going.

They will be days filled with love, hugs and kisses all around, and on a constant basis. Lots of laughter, too. Not that we don't have that now, but there will be lots more of it when we're all free of our school bonds. I smile just thinking about it.

How Time Flies

The school year for Ty and Zach ends on May 27. I could swear it only started last week. I remember getting them ready for their first day, and taking their pictures on the front stoop to commemorate the occasion. Lettie was so excited that they were going to school but disappointed that she wouldn't be going. She was barely two years old but wanted, so badly, to be with her brothers. I assured her she would get to go to school soon. Well, that day is almost here.

She and I went, this morning, to Headstart to enroll her for the 09/10 school year. She will start in August, when her brothers return for the school year. My baby will be starting school. I could swear she was only born last week. She'll be getting on the bus and spending four hours - it's only part day - away from me. It will be the first time in almost eight years that I will be home alone for any length of time, every day. WOW! That went fast.

I will be graduating college in July. I remember calling the admissions advisor to get information on enrollment and starting my first day of classes just a couple of weeks later, in June of '06 - after a 22-year hiatus from my previous college experience. I know it's been three years since I started, but I could swear I just started last week.

When I stop and think about everything that's happened in the past three years, I can't believe how quickly it's gone. Lettie was only two months old when I began my college courses at Kaplan. I would sit at the computer, nursing her on one arm, and typing with the other. I actually became pretty proficient at typing with only one hand. :) Zachary had just turned three, and Tyler would become five in November of that year.

Now, Lettie is three and will be starting pre-school in August; Zach will turn six tomorrow and will go into 1st grade; and Ty will be eight in November, after he begins 2nd grade. Where did the time go? It seems like everything is moving so quickly, yet standing completely still - especially time.

Over the past couple of years, I've learned to slow down and just take things in stride. I don't want to rush anything, but time gets away from me anyway. Now, I see other people rushing all the time, and never getting anywhere, just like I used to be. I had to slow down because I came to realize: What's the point in rushing? Time will take care of itself. We can't slow it down to make the day last longer, and we can't speed it up to keep up with our needs. All we can do is enjoy it while it's here and now.

We know we can't get yesterday back, and there's no use waiting "until tomorrow" - because, if you really think about it, "tomorrow" never gets here. ;)

Grateful

I know it's not Thanksgiving but I was sitting here this evening thinking about everything I have and how truly grateful I am to have it. I do that often, but tonight I just wanted to put it in writing so I could actually look at it.

My home is rented and my food is purchased with the assistance of government funds. I am grateful to have them, and am no longer ashamed to be utilizing the services of a system I paid into for over 18 years. My other bills are paid out of pocket, but without government assistance, I'd have nothing. There would be no way I could afford a home and food for my kids if the system wasn't there to help me.

I am currently in my final term of e-college, after which I will have earned a Bachelors Degree in Paralegal Studies. Even though most of my tuition is being put on a student loan, I wouldn't be able to attend college without it. Because of college, I will be able to get a job and support my kids without any more government assistance, and I will be able to give them a better life than I had as a child. That will be a great accomplishment in itself. I dropped out of college 22 years ago and am proud of what I've done so far. To have the opportunity to return to college for that ever-elusive degree is a wonderful experience that I will always cherish.

My friends are the best. I have few, but the ones I do have are there for me whenever I need them, and vice versa. We have seen each other through pain and sorrow, as well as joys and triumphs. We've laughed, cried, argued, debated, agreed, disagreed, and just plain been. My friends have strengthened me, and have helped me gain spirituality. They've helped me become a better person, mother and friend. Some I know personally, and see them whenever the chance arises. Others I've never met personally but know through school, and have only spoken to over the phone. Regardless, they are the best and I would do anything for any of them.

My children are my biggest blessings of all. They make me want to be the best mom I can possibly be, and they keep me grounded in reality. It's hard to daydream about lifestyles of the rich and famous when a three year old is screaming because her dress is dirty; a five year old is crying because his brother hit him; and a seven year old is demanding that his brother stay out of their room. :) My kids light up my days and brighten my smile. When I go on my nightly rounds before bed to make sure they're all covered, warm and cozy in their beds, and to give one extra goodnight kiss, the stress and anxiety of the day's tribulations simply vanish when I see them sleeping, lost in their dreams and look at their little faces. All I can do is think of all the possibilities they have before them, and how I want, so much, for each of them to be happy in their lives.

No matter how tough things get in my life, I know that I will always be grateful for whatever I have at any given moment. To think otherwise would only get me mired down in misery and I would miss out on all the wonderful moments life has to offer.

Pigeon Butt

I started my final term in school last Wednesday and, although the classes are interesting, my back is not enjoying them. When I still lived at home with my parents, about 17 years ago, my room was in the dormered attic and the stairs had no carpeting or runner. While I was on the phone one day, I slipped and fell all the way to the bottom of the staircase, on my tail bone, and crashed into the closed door at the bottom. My arm, in trying to catch myself, got tangled in the handrail that ran alongside the stairs. While I had a couple of bruises, it was my back that was damaged the most. I had a huge black and blue at the base of my spine and it took me about a week to be able to walk again.

To this day, my lower back still bothers me if I sit or stand too long, and when I clean or do heavy lifting, I really feel it the next day. I cleaned the house this past Friday, to get the house ready for my daughter's third birthday party, and I had to do it quickly - before the boys returned home from school. Of course my back was going to hurt, as it always does. But dealing with the party and then having to sit at the computer to do my school work didn't help my back work itself out yet. The sitting is actually radiating the pain to my upper back. I am now walking around with what an ex-boyfriend affectionately called "pigeon butt."

Yes, it's funny, you can laugh. I start to stand up only to find out that I can't straighten all the way up, so I'm bent slightly forward at the waist with my butt sticking out behind me. Imagine a pigeon walking. Even though it hurts, I'm used to it but it's a sight to see me trying to do anything when I can't walk straight or quickly. My kids will be calling me from the next room, "Hurry, Mom! You have to see this commercial!" And there I am shuffling along like a 90-year-old woman - feet barely lifting off the floor, using doorjambs and furniture for balance, with my butt sticking out, saying, "I'm coming. I'm on my way. Here I come. I'm getting there. I'm running as fast as I can." :) When I go out in public it's even more amusing because of the looks that I get.

Anything can set it off, too; not just cleaning or lifting. One time I bent to pick up a towel off the bathroom floor, felt a sharp pinch, and that was that. That time I actually looked like I lost something on the ground and was desperately trying to find it; at least for the first couple of hours, anyway. After I could straighten up a bit, I couldn't stand for any length of time without rocking back and forth on my feet to take the pressure off my back. People are sympathetic, though - sometimes. I was standing in line at a donut shop later that day, rocking and rocking, and I must have had a pained look on my face because the man standing next to me asked if my back was the problem. At my ascent, he helped me order then walked me to my car. That was really nice. Other times people just get irritated that I'm taking up too much of their time. Poo on them!

I can laugh about it, though, but I have yet to find anything that will actually take the pain far, far away. Heating pads and ice packs work for a short time; exercise helps - when I can do it; and my kids will walk on my back for me, when I really need it. I've tried hanging, upside-down, from low tree branches; and twisting to try to get the kinks out; however, they're also only temporary solutions. I don't have the money for a chiropractor, and I can't afford gravity boots. So if anyone out there has seen, or knows of, a cure for "pigeon butt," please pass it along. I'm starting to collect birds at my window looking for food from their mama. :)

So Much for Relaxation

I was already here today and didn't think I'd be back for a day or so. However, something came up that I need to discuss and, as it's after 10:00p.m., I can't really call anyone. It's nothing detrimental but I won't be able to relax and get any rest if I don't put this out there. I'm not complaining mind you; I was laughing at myself the entire time this took place, but I still have to tell the story. First, though, why in the world do toy manufacturers make toys that have to be assembled but the instructions are impossible to follow? And why don't the pieces fit together as they should? Can anyone tell me that?

After all the cleaning I've done for the past couple of days, I thought I would have a relaxing evening sitting quietly, maybe have a drink or two, and just enjoy the silence of the night. That wasn't the case. Tyler, my seven year old, came to me with a prize he'd won at school the other day that he wanted me to assemble for him. It's a wooden 3-D puzzle of an eagle perched atop a globe. The eagle is leaning somewhat forward with it's wings high over it's head with feathers spread. The puzzle consists of about 55 pieces, all with grooves punched into them, in different places, so they can slide together quickly and easily to form the final product. Okay. I like puzzles and I like handy work so this shouldn't be a problem. Honestly, how bad could it be? I was quick to find out just how bad it was.

Ty had already punched out all the pieces, which he delivered to me on a paper towel, along with the assembly instructions. Why he punched them out I'll never know. Maybe it's just a kid thing. They feel like they're helping with the project in some way, even if they can't do the actual assembling. Whatever. I could figure it out. It's a puzzle for crying out loud. So I put the instructions on my newly-cleaned desk, spread the pieces out, got some Elmer's Wood Glue and sat down for a nice, easy job of puzzle assembly.

What I soon found out was that the instructions weren't exactly instructions on how to put the puzzle together. It was a single sheet of paper with a diagram of all the pieces, not in any particular order, with each groove, of each piece, meticulously numbered. Mind you, some of these pieces have only one groove, but others have anywhere from five to fourteen grooves. That's because anywhere from five to fourteen other pieces are supposed to be stuck to that one piece. The exact instructions read: "Pick up two pieces which correspond with each other by number and assemble." It would have been great if it were that easy. First of all, there were, at times, more than just two pieces with the same corresponding number. It was up to me to actually figure out which C1 attached to that C1, and where the other C1s actually fit in. Not so easy after all.

Okay, I get started with the base - the globe. I've got the bottom circle and the top circle attached to two of the side pieces and the bottom ring in place. All of them are glued nicely together and I'm pleased so far. Then I glance at the opposite end of the diagram and find that four of the other base pieces are listed there. Oh good grief! Now I have to take apart the pieces I've assembled just to slide these other pieces in place. Breathe. I can handle it. Done. The globe is together. Then I notice that there are grooves on the top of two of the side pieces, and grooves on the bottom of the other two side pieces. Is it supposed to be that way, or are the grooves all supposed to be on the top or all on the bottom? Check the picture of the finished product on the other side of the instructions. Guess what? All the grooves are supposed to be on the bottom. Disassemble the whole thing to flip these pieces around, but now the top is where the bottom is supposed to be and vice versa. Holy cow. Now I'm getting annoyed. Okay. Take it all apart again flip everything one more time and, voila, the globe is now together and ready for the eagle.

There's another problem, though. Not only are my hands now covered in glue from all the taking apart and putting together, but the grooves that are machine-punched into these puzzle pieces aren't fitting together as they should. Some only slide half way in, some slide too far, and others are so narrow that I'm afraid they'll split if I force them to fit where they belong. Well, I'll do my best. The glue should hold each piece in place - even if it doesn't fit exactly right.

So, onward with the eagle. This part wasn't too bad until I realized that the base doesn't stand solidly on the desk. It's a bit wobbly because of the aforementioned faulty groove system. No matter. I keep going. The leg/body pieces seem to fit nicely. The grooves on the tail piece, though, are too close together so I have to squeeze the body pieces inward to fit the tail on. Still, it's working. The neck piece is the same as the tail piece so the head pieces don't fit properly and the back feathers are too wide now to fit at all. Get the scissors and cut them slightly so they fit. Great. Done. Now for the wings. These wouldn't be too bad except for the fact that they're the pieces with the fourteen grooves I mentioned earlier - each groove holds a small feather piece. Put the feather pieces on the wings, some of which have to be glued in place because the grooves are way too wide, then set the wings in place on top of the body. Wow! My masterpiece is finished.

Three, two, one...the whole thing topples over because the base is wobbly - remember, I mentioned that earlier also - and the eagle's wings are heavier than the globe. Now I let the expletives have their place in my living room while I scramble to pick up all the individual feather pieces that have bounced themselves loose with the eagle's nose dive. Glue those pieces back in place, replace the wings, and see if I can adjust the stand a bit so it stays upright. It'll stand for a while - as long as nobody touches it, or breathes near it. It's going to have to stand on a bookshelf with its tail against the wall just for balance, but, it's done. If Ty, or anyone for that matter, actually touches it, I'll lose my mind. I can't stand the thought of gluing more feather pieces on if they fall off again. If he ever brings home anything like this again, I'm calling the manufacturer and having them send someone to my home to put the thing together.

At least now I can relax, though. It's together, he won't bug me about it, and I did get one benefit out of the whole deal. I can sit in bed, tonight, peeling the dried glue from my hands, the way I did when I was in grade school. Remember how fun that was? That should give me a little bit of relaxation.

Spring Cleaning

My finals were finished last week and I've got a break from school until the 15th so I decided to do something constructive with my time - the dreaded spring cleaning. I did take a couple of days off just to relax and rejuvenate but, on Saturday, I began the process. My usual house cleaning is a once-a-week affair. On Saturdays I clean, top to bottom and then enjoy the scenery. I do straighten up every night, don't get me wrong, but nothing is more satisfying than seeing the house in it's, somewhat, pristine condition after it's been completely cleaned - furniture dusted, floors vacuumed, and all the rest.

On Sunday, though, while I was doing laundry, I got the idea that the kids' dressers needed to be raided for any and all clothing that no longer fits, or that they don't wear. I started with the boys, and, with their assistance, we gained three plastic grocery bags of clothing that I will take to my parenting group to let my comrades fish through in case their children are in need of whatever.

My daughter was a different story. I did her clothing alone. She's only two and would keep everything if I let her. She had nine bags of clothing that no longer fit. NINE bags. Good grief. There is a girl at my parenting group with three girls all under the age of three so she'll get those. I had a friend with two daughters my boys' ages and he was always donating his girls' stuff to my daughter. Once I got rid of the 18mo - 2Ts I began going through the rest of what he donated to me for Lettie. She's got one large drawer stuffed with 5s and 6s; another whole drawer and a shelf both stuffed with 4s; and there were so many 3s - which she now wears - that she's got an entire new wardrobe for this year. There was so much in size 3 that I had to put some of it in the bags to be donated to my friend. My daughter has more clothing than any child should have. She's got more than I've got. :)

Once that was finished I felt a twinge of satisfaction. I accomplished something that I can stand back and admire. YEA! Then I looked around to decide what needed to be done next. My desk, inside and out, was a must. My filing cabinet just off the kitchen is also needing some organization. I tend to just take papers, bills and whatnot and just shove them in drawers and piles until I've got a serious case of organized chaos. I can live with it, but, after a while, it tends to grate on my nerves. So, today, I got started.

The top of my desk was a complete mess, even though I knew where everything was. Pictures the kids make for me just keep piling up so they all got put in a keepsake box. I had another pile of stuff that actually needed to be filed but I couldn't really file them until I cleaned out the little filing cabinet. That was the fun part. I went through it, file by file, and tossed nearly everything. I had booklets saved from electronic items and kids' toys I'd once bought, but no longer have; resumes that haven't been used in over eight years; car repair receipts for vehicles that were sold long ago; and much more. I laughed at myself for keeping so much that I would never use again.

Part of it is because I'm just lazy about that kind of chore. It's tedious. Part of it is because, whenever I throw anything away, I inevitably need it a short time later. It never fails. Now, though, if anyone calls me about a replaced exhaust system for the 1990 Chevy Cavalier, or the instructions for the Fisher Price Kick and Play, they're out of luck. Everything has been thrown in the dumpster and I will not, under any circumstances, fish it out. They'd have to pay me some big bucks to get me to go dumpster diving for paperwork that's over four years old.

With that done, tomorrow I embark on yet another endeavor - the big filing cabinet: the one just off the kitchen that I mentioned previously. That, I know, is crammed with old bills, kids' artwork, magazines from who-knows-when and I can't even guess what else. That's a chore in itself but, once it's done, I can actually use it for filing. I'm excited about that prospect. More room is always a good thing.

I'll save the best for last, though. It's Friday's job. My bedroom closet hasn't been cleaned out in a very long time, and, rather than asking me what's on the floor of it, it's better to ask me what's not on the floor of it. I can't wait to find out what sort of forgotten treasures are lurking beneath the blankets and sheets that won't fit in the linen closet. Maybe I'll find something worth money - like a genuine Picasso, or something of that nature. I seriously doubt it, but, you never can tell. The excitement and anticipation are growing by the minute. I just hope I don't let me down. :)

Uninterrupted? Free? - I think not.

The other day, Lettie and I were out running errands, and, as usual, I searched the radio until I found some "fun" music for us to listen to. The station I selected was playing some pretty cool music and she and I were rockin' out - as much as we can rock out in a minivan - and enjoying ourselves. I was pleasantly surprised because there were three songs, back to back, that were all really good. Then, after the third song, came a recorded, spoken announcement - "You're listening to a thirty-minute, uninterrupted block of today's classic songs on [station call letters]." So on and etcetera, blah, blah, blah. This went on for thirty seconds with the message touting the station. Then the next song came on.

Guess what. They lied. I don't know about anyone else, but the last time I checked, "uninterrupted" meant "having undisturbed continuity." That recorded message definitely disturbed the continuity of the thirty-minutes of music. When I'm enjoying whatever radio station I have on, don't ruin it by breaking the flow of some really great songs just to remind me of the name of the station to which I'm tuned. I haven't forgotten. Here's a hint - unless your message is being sung, you're NOT playing thirty minutes of "uninterrupted" music. Do they think there's something wrong with me that I can't tell that they just interrupted their own music block? I guess they do.

The radio station people must be related to, or in cahoots with, those people who produce commercials and infomercials and try to sell me incredibly useless stuff at ridiculous prices. If I act now, they'll send me two ear cleaner/potato peelers for the price of one. All I have to do is call within the next sixty seconds. WOW!! Honey, hand me the phone! Two for the price of one!! What a great deal!! I can get both of them for the low price of only $19.95 plus an additional $9.95 shipping and handling charge - per item, that is. WHAT!?

First of all, if they can send me two for $19.95, why can't I just get one for $9.98? I don't need two - not unless I want to clean my ears and peel potatoes at the same time, that is. And why do I have to pay double the shipping and handling charges? Are the items coming from two different places? I say, stick them both in the same box and save us all some time and money. And, you know what? I don't really need the free gifts that come with it. The super-duper taco holder will only crush my tacos, spilling the contents all over my lap and the floor; and the handy-dandy floor squeegee won't clean the taco mess. I'll still have to get on my hands and knees to get the grease up. Besides, I can really use the additional $9.95 shipping and handling for the "free" gifts to buy band-aids and antibacterial cream for when the super-grip bottom of my new ear cleaner/potato peeler fails and I cut my hand.

Not to mention the fact that, if I have to pay for the second ear cleaner/potato peeler and the free gifts to get to me, they're not exactly free, are they? If they were really free, they'd all be put in the same box as the original item I ordered and would be shipped for the same, one-time shipping and handling fee. Free, to me, means, you give me something, I give you nothing. If money is leaving my hand in order for the "free" item to reach my possession, there's something wrong. I just haven't yet figured out if the "something wrong" has to do with me or the people who sell these products and interrupt my music. Maybe it is me. Maybe I'm interpreting everything incorrectly.

Um - I think not.

(This has been an uninterrupted message discussing the fact that corporate big-wigs have deemed the general public to be somewhat stupid. And, you guessed it, you pay nothing for my opinion. I'm giving it to you absolutely FREE.)

Cluttered mind

Tonight I was IMing with a friend and realized I'd completely forgotten about my blog since I started it last week. The only reason I remembered it was because the friend I was chatting with is the one who introduced me to the blogging scene. She's got a blog and I've always been interested in them so I decided to give it a try. Since one good turn deserves another, I'll do for her, on my blog, what she did for me on hers. Thanks, Tracy, for giving me the idea for this, and for supporting me on your site. I really do appreciate it. I've also added Tracy's blog to my list of blogs - it's the only one so far - that I follow. She writes some pretty interesting things and is well worth reading.

I'm pretty much thinking that the reason I forgot about the blog is simply because I'm so busy lately. I'm in my final two weeks of this school term and that's when all the heavy work is due; I've got a friend staying with me for a short while so we spend a lot of time chatting when I should be working - the distraction from my usual routine is quite nice, though, I'll admit; I had to get the boys prepared for their St. Paddy's Day celebrations at school; and now they're off until Monday for their spring break so I don't have as much free time this week.

I guess everyone knows what it's like to be busy these days. Everything moves so quickly that we barely have time to breathe. That's why I have to write my own little to-do list every night before I go to bed. If I forget the list, I forget many of the things that should be done each day. It stays on my desk, right next to my computer mouse so I can't miss it. I try to get everything on the list done each day, with the most important items getting done first. If I don't get it all done, the leftover items get rolled over to the next day's list. It's handy and helpful. Besides, I find that if I write things down, or ask someone to remind me of something, I'll remember on my own. It's as if I've programmed it into my head once it's on paper or out there in the open. Go figure. I wonder what would happen if, instead of writing my list, I just spoke it out loud each night. Would that help me remember everything the next day? I'll have to give it a shot when I don't have anything pressing to do the next day. Right now I'm too afraid I'd forget something really important and would be kicking myself for it. For now, the list will suffice. :)

What's really funny is that when my kids need me to do something for them - write a note to a teacher or get something from the store - they'll make sure I put it on my list. "Did you write that down on your list, Mom? I don't want you to forget." Good grief! The boys are only 5 and 7 and they're already privy to my secrets. I wonder how my daughter will be when she's old enough to be reminding me of things. Eventually I'll probably have an extra write on/wipe off board on the fridge. I've already got one for shopping needs - one side is for groceries, the other for incidentals that I pick up anywhere that isn't the supermarket. When the kids are all old enough to spell and write, I'll put up a board titled "Things the Kids Need Mom to Remember." I can just imagine how much will be on it in ten years when they're all teenagers.

Well, once I'm finished with school, mid-June, things will settle down and I won't have so much heavy stuff on my mind all the time. That should help me get myself together, and my to-do lists will be much shorter. That'll leave room for me to add "update blog" to it occasionally. In the meantime, I'll just do what I can, when I can, and I won't stress over it. Stress isn't worth my time and energy anyway. I'd rather this just be fun and relaxing, which it appears to be so far. I've rambled on tonight about absolutely nothing and feel really great about it. That's as it should be.

Just Getting Started

Before I started this blog, I spent a lot of time wondering what I would write about; what I could write about. Then I realized that I can write about, pretty much, anything that strikes me at the time - with or without an agenda. I'm a 41-yr-old, divorced, stay-at-home mother of three small children, and the majority of my time is spent in my home, with my kids. I do spend time with friends, and I do spend time working on improving myself. There are endless things I can write about.

Tonight, however, I am at a loss for a specific subject. I spent most of the day trying to get some school work done - an apparent exercise in futility. I'm in my next-to-last semester at Kaplan University, an e-college, where I'm pursuing a Bachelor of Science degree in Paralegal Studies. Usually I have no trouble getting my school work done during the day because it's just my two-yr-old daughter, Collette, and me at home. Her brothers, seven-yr-old Tyler, and five-yr-old Zach are in First grade and Kindergarten, respectively, and are in school much of the day.

Today, though, I received a call from the school nurse telling me that Zach's teacher sent him to her because he appeared to be taking pink-eye. Even though I explained to her that the boys had been messing around with markers the past couple of days, painting black under their eyes to look like football players, and that trying to get it off their faces may have caused his eyes to appear a little puffy, she asked that I pick him up and observe him at home.

Once I arrived at the school and signed Zach out for the day, we walked back to his class to drop something off with his teacher who, at that point, told me she hadn't sent Zach to the nurse. She had sent him to the office to pick up something I had left for him earlier in the morning. Apparently, the school secretary had sent him to the nurse because his eyes looked red and puffy, but she never bothered to ask him if he'd been crying - which he had. Since I'd already re-arranged my schedule to provide for him to be home with me, we just left and came home.

Once he was here, though, he and his sister spent the day just bugging me left and right. If they weren't asking me for something, they were fighting with one another. It didn't matter that I constantly told them that I had school work to do, they just felt the need to continue pulling me away from the computer. All I was trying to do was get a little research done for my two discussion board posts, and get the posts done - something that should have taken me, at most, three hours. Instead, I only got one of the posts done over the course of five hours. Then we had to go pick up Tyler and that was the end of that. With all three kids running around, trying to talk to me at once, and/or fighting amongst themselves, I can't get anything done. Once they went to bed tonight, I relaxed while watching my three favorite TV shows, and then got the second post done. That one only took me 45 minutes. Go figure.

When I stop and think that I've been in school for three years, and have had all three kids here all the time, Collette was born just before I started, I wonder how I actually got through all those classes while taking care of the kids at the same time. Then I realize that, regardless of what distractions I may have had, or still have, I always get things done. The kids get very impatient with me at times, for always doing school work, but I can't get angry. They just don't understand how important this degree is to us. Someday they will, and I hope that my diligence and perseverance will serve as good examples for them to pursue their own goals.