Mother of multiples

Ugh. Once upon a time I was a freak about being the mom of twins. I joined one of those "mothers of multiples" clubs and everything.  I think I joined that club before they were even born.  I went to the meetings.  Which really consisted of talking only about the meetings and the committees.  Nothing really helpful about raising twins.

I really went to those meetings to get away, and because I had met three hilarious women there, and we had a great time making fun of the whole deal.

Oh, and twice a year they had a HUGE sale, where we could buy each other's used twin stuff.  It was a super score.  I was even on the sale committee one year, in charge of the sale.  I overslept on the day of the sale AND did cocaine in the bathroom during the sale.  Probably not my GREATEST contribution.

Sorry ladies

One  useful thing they did was once a year they invited a panel of twins (adult twins) to come in, so that we could all fire questions at them.  We did this so that we would know what horrific mistakes their parents made, and be sure not to make them ourselves.

The questions were like this:

"Did your parents give you two birthday cakes, or one?"

"Did your parents dress you alike?"

"Did your parents make you share a bedroom?"

"Did your parents take you places without your twin?"

"Did your parents give you two separate birthday parties?"

"Did you encourage separate friends?

"Did you put them on the same sports teams?"

And so on.  Some of these questions were asked EVERY SINGLE YEAR.  The birthday cake one cracks me up.  People take that shit SERIOUSLY!!  For the record, I've done it both ways, depending on how much money we had during each birthday.  I don't think my kids suffered any long-term effects with either of those choices.

But the one that struck me as the most important was the question about putting the kids in separate classrooms.  In Minnesota, there is actually a law on the books that gives the parents the ultimate choice whether they put their twins into the same class or not.

On the twin panel, at these meetings, this was an emotional question for many.  Some told stories about being split up that first day of Kindergarten, being terrified, and one woman even choked up when talking about how traumatic that experience was for her.  It seems that splitting the twins up in school was a very difficult thing for the twins.  It seemed like it was across the board a bad experience.

I am not a twin.  So I do not understand the relationship.  Who am I to say they need to be split up?  My boys seem well adjusted, are their own people, have friends, and do not cause trouble for anyone.  So I have kept them together, because they want to be together.  It has been suggested that I separate them, but no one has ever given me a good reason.  Not saying the school is wrong for suggesting it, I just think people believe that they should be separated.  But I think that if they want to stay together, and aren't hurting anyone, then they stay together.

So here we are, at the deciding point again for next year.  And although I have been in the "let them decide for themselves" camp, I thought that 5th grade would be the year we for sure split them up.  Right before middle school starts.  To give them a chance to be on their own.  But the boys want to stay together.  In fact, they got pretty upset when I tried to talk them into separating.  Like...SO sad.

So, they win.  For 5th grade, the boys will again be in the same class.  Maybe they will have all of the same classes in middle-school, high-school, college.  Maybe they will live together or in a duplex, work together at the same place.  Maybe they will marry sisters. Who am I to say that is wrong?  They are happy, healthy and doing just fine.  They are best friends and I am so lucky to be their mom.  Twins rule.

Let's make sure they know

I have run across a photographer named Chris Arnade, from the Bronx, NY.  He photographs in Hunt's Point, and gets up close and personal with the addicts of that community.  It seems that heroin and crack have taken their toll on his subjects.

You can see his photos here: 

I have been following Chris on Facebook.  I'm torn sometimes at the value in his photos.  Not that it is the value of his subjects that is in question, but if it helps folks want to help those who need it most, or does it help people stay in the, "those folks don't matter" place because they seem too far gone.

You can see this very thing go on in the comments on Chris' Facebook page.  People really have no idea, and there are many in the "why do they keep doing this to themselves" camp.  The answer?  Disease of addiction, poverty, and no access to the right kind of help.

Very often I am saddened by his descriptions and the photos. They are so real and so personal. I can see in the eyes of the people, the disease and the prison they live in.  I can feel and remember the trap.  These are sometimes hard to look at, and they may seem a bit intrusive.  But they do put a human voice to the people who mostly get looked down upon and tells a story about how they survive each and every day.  How brave it is for them to be so honest.

This is the side of addiction that people imagine in their heads.  These are the addicts people think about when they think about drug addicts.  They maybe don't think about the stay-at-home mom who lives in the suburbs, who is smoking meth in her bedroom.  They think of the prostitute, working for her habit. And the truth is, we all matter.

So I've gone back and forth about these photos.  I can't decide if they are exploitative, intrusive, continue the stigma of who addicts are, and showing a world, that seems so hopeless, that no one can do anything about it.

But I believe these are important stories to tell.

No situation is hopeless.  Recovery is possible for anyone. Even those who seem so far gone.  I've met them!   And if dignity, forgiveness, shameless, treatment were available to everyone, if addiction wasn't looked down upon so much, if help was available and support systems were available to EVERYONE, than maybe it would change.  So that maybe someday people will look at these images, and not see someone who can't pull their shit together, but someone who is sick and needs help.  And then be willing to give help.

People become addicted for many different reasons.  None of those reasons should matter in why or if they get help.  But in this country, it almost only boils down to that.

Photos and stories like these are also the reason that those of us in recovery MUST tell our stories. So that the gap between them and us, can be bridged.  So that people not only see these images, which often seem so hopeless, but OUR stories. Recovery is possible for anyone.  Let's make sure they know.

I totally sound like a broken record.  I'm trying to work on some more personal stuff, but I feel like I've told you everything!!

My chest area (okay...my boobs)

Look away kids. Look away.

You probably don't know this, because why the hell would you?  But all this talk of Angelina's bravery and her boobs, made me think of my own. 

After my twins were born, I lost my baby weight pretty quickly.  I attribute that to stress, diet pills, and nicotine.  I surely didn't exercise or eat right.  I've yet to treat my body with any respect.

Four children do a number on a pair of breasts.  Or should I say, after our breasts are used for the purpose of sustaining life for another human, their purpose is then to shrivel up, and die.

I married a boob man.

And I believed that if I were to get breast implants, he would adore me more.

Guess what?  Didn't work.

So, by at the age of 33, I hadn't figured out that I am NOT my body, I am NOT my boobs, that I should NOT be wanted because I look pretty.  Well, in this society, as women we are.  But I hadn't figured out how to say FUCK THAT.

Plus, my friend got implants, and so I had to have them too.  She also got a Yorkie, I got one too.  Then my daycare lady got a Russian Tortoise.  I got one too.  Those bastards live up to 100 years!!  You could say that I once upon a time tried to keep up with Jones' that I had no business competing with.

Thank goodness recovery is possible from all of my shit, not just drugs and alcohol.

So here I am, 42 years old.  My implants are almost ten years old.  It is amazing how much a woman can change in ten years.  Implants too.  And last year, one of them popped.  I have, what I like to call, a flat tire.

The good news about being overweight is that I gain a lot of weight in the chest.  So, you can hardly tell when I have a good bra on.  And the remaining implant is not as full for some reason.  So really, there is no difference.  Yay fat!!

Last year, when I went in for my mammogram, they couldn't find one of the implants (the popped one.)  I thought this was because it was more than likely wrapped around my lung, or in my brain, and that I was going to need emergency surgery.  But it just meant that it was completely flattened and see-through.  I had an ultrasound that showed all was well.  But this changes these procedures for me.  It makes them seem not as good.  Like cancer could hide behind it or something.  To me, it is fricken dangerous.  I don't feel as safe.

And the plastic surgeons are just salesmen.  They don't give a shit.  I went back to tell him that one had popped.  Apparently I didn't buy the $100 insurance on the implants, so there is nothing he can do.  I could pay $1500.00 and have them removed.  Which I would LOVE to do.  But I don't happen to have this money laying around.  So I will wait.  But the first amount of money I have extra is going towards removal of these implants.  The doctor said, of course, that I could live like this for the rest of my life.

Getting implants is one of the great regrets of my life.  I am not saying that I am against plastic surgery.  Because if a woman wants to get something done to herself to make herself feel better, than go for it.  I can see the beauty in that.  But I did it for the wrong reasons.  And I did it to fix something in my life.  And of course, that didn't work.

But what Angelina Jolie did to protect her life was a no-brainer for me.  I'm glad she did it, and I'm glad she went public about it. I would do the exact same thing.

So this morning, I woke up, made my mammogram appointment, and my yearly physical appointment.  I did this because Angelina's story reminded me that I should.  My mother didn't have breast cancer.  But both my grandmothers did and so did a cousin of mine.  I don't know if that makes me high risk, but I will ask my doctor.

When you see me on the street, go ahead, look all you want.  You won't be able to tell which one it is (it is the left one.)

Oh, and make your appointments too!!

No more Motherless Mother's Day

What an upbeat title.  I bet you are just dying to read this one.

I used to hate Mother's Day, obvioulsy.  I have spent more Mother's Days without actually having a mother, than I did with one.

I don't remember doing anything to make my mom's Mother's Day special.  I don't really remember having them with her at all.  We must not have made a big deal about them. Or I wasn't wise enough to commit any of it to memory.  

We might have made her breakfast in bed, maybe a homemade card or maybe one from school.  But I can't say for sure.

We never talked about the fact that she was going to die (I think I've mentioned this before.) We never ever said it. We never said "let's make this count" because we were sure we wouldn't have another Mother's Day, Christmas, or any day.  We always stayed in the camp of "she's going to beat this thing," even when doctors said she was 100% terminally ill. We never talked about not having her around. To not have those conversations is one of my greatest regrets. But at sixteen, I couldn't be in charge of that. I didn't want to believe she was dying either.  

I only remember being jealous of other people having their moms on Mother's Day, after mine was gone.

Mother's day was, for a long time, hardest day of the year for me. I couldn't wait until it was over.

Then I had my own kids, and it instantly cured that day for me.  It wasn't a painful reminder anymore. It was finally something good.

When my kids were smaller, for many of my Mother's Day celebrations, I took the day off from being a mother.  Nice huh?     I didn't have to change a diaper, make a meal, fix a bottle, nothing.  In fact, I would demand to be able to do yard work, uninterrupted, the entire day. That part still sounds good.  But I didn't want to hear "mom" from any of them. I ordered them to leave me alone. They weren't allowed to speak to me.  Really creating some lasting memories for them.

That has changed.

I let them talk to me on Mother's Day now.  I know, super sweet of me.  Sobriety can make us less asshole-ish.  I let them do for me, what they want to, or not.  I one time expected gifts, breakfast in bed, and what-not.  Then to be ignored.  Boy, I have really changed. 

I also used to tell Bob, "Don't buy me anything for Mother's Day, we cant afford it and I don't need anything."  Then I would be PISSED when I woke up to no gifts. 

You would be surprised to know how many years he fell for that "no gift" deal, and how many years I was pissed. I used to set him up like that a lot.

If the weather was better we would go plant flowers at my mom's grave.  I know what you are thinking.  Fun!  But it is a chance to do something nice for Mom's memory, with my kids.  This photo was taken two years ago. I turned around and this is what my twins were doing next to her grave.  

The plan for today is just like any other day.  A few Lacrosse games with my family, and who knows what else.  I think there might be some homemade gifts from school (no one is awake yet for me to be sure).

I don't want to be left alone, given store-bought gifts, and no one has to prove anything to me about how appreciated I am.  I get it.  I just feel lucky that my kids are here, that I am still here, and we get to just be.  That is lucky. 

I can't believe I really believe that. That IS lucky. 

Happy Mother's Day, mamas. Keep it real.

That shit blew my mind

From left to right. William C. Moyers, Jonothan Lofgren, Dan Griffen, Bethany Otuteye, and director  Greg Williams.

Hey, I saw the movie The Anonymous People last night.   The Minnesota Recovery Connection hosted this event at the Walker Art Center.  The whole thing inspired me.  It made me more excited to be going into the field that I am going into. And it made me want to help more.  And I will.

There is so much to say about this movie, that I cannot do it justice. Greg Williams did a beautiful job, and the messages are clear. We need to stop treating people with a chronic health issue, as criminals. It isn't humane, it costs our country billions of dollars, and it doesn't make sense. The public belief about what addiction is needs to change, and the way to change this is to be willing to, if WE can, tell our stories without shame, so that we can be proof that treatment works. Recovery works.  There are 23 million of us.  All roads to recovery are different, just like all roads to recovery for any disease are different.  No two people are the same.

Left to right.  Yours truly, Deb and Dee.  

At this event, I was able to meet the humble and approachable Greg Williams, the director of the film. He recognized my name from here, Facebook and my excitement about his project. That was super nice. It gave me the awesome chance to prove that I am super awkward in person. And maybe a little too overly excited and nerdy about some stuff.  I wouldn't doubt if he was a little creeped out.  I'm kidding.  But we are probably best friends now.  You know how I get.

Here is my hope for an important film like this. I believe it could change people's minds about addiction diseases.  In the 300 seat theater last night, for a special screening, most folks there were in recovery, work in recovery fields, or touched by recovery. Of course WE want to see this film. But Greg made a movie that the REST of you that need to see. Because it is the public perception of this DISEASE that needs to change, for treatment to become available. For criminalizing to stop.

Some of you might not believe that this is a disease. You may find it hard to understand that when I use (as Greg Williams said something along this line in the movie) one drug or drink, my old brain takes over in a way that I can't stop using (well, he didn't say exactly that). And unless I get some help, my family suffers, I suffer, I stop contributing to society, I start to hurt people. I steal, I lie, I do fucked-up shit.  If you can't believe that, this film will make you consider that what we are saying is true.  And if you don't want to believe that, THEN GO SEE THIS MOVIE.

Recovery services are available to some of us, and I was able to go to one of the BEST treatment centers around, when I wanted to, because I had good insurance AND people were willing to give me money for the remaining co-pay.  So instead of getting caught and put in jail, I was put on the road to recovery.  Not everyone, especially "drug addicts," have people like I did, in their lives.   I got the help I needed.  But not everyone is so lucky.  And that has to do with the stigma and shame of the disease.  So we need to start talking about how recovery has worked in our lives, and change the minds of people who look down on us.

So when this movie is released, and it comes to your town, do yourself (and America) a favor and go see it.  Even and especially if you have not been touched by this disease (which really, who hasn't?)  It is respectful, truthful, and exciting.  It is a movie for all of us, recovering or not. I learned a whole bunch of stuff I didn't know, and it made me feel more certain that I am on the right path, doing the right thing by sharing my story. And I still have a SHIT TON still to learn about how I do that.

And until then, I have decided I need to get more involved.  So I filled out the volunteer form online for the Minnesota Recovery Connection.  And hopefully, they can use me.  There are other organizations that are out there who also help reduce stigma, educate, work on public policy, etc.,  so help can become easier to access.  I have a list of them to the right. If you think I should add one, let me know.  But check them out.  And help where you can, if you can.

I probably will have more to say about this.

A. K. A.

I've learned a lot in school about self-disclosure as a counselor to a client. It can instantly change a relationship, take the important focus off of the client and can block clients from getting what they need from us.

I remember being in treatment and wanting to know every single drug everyone did. I wanted to know if my counselors were in recovery and I wanted to know what they were in recovery from. Booze? Weed? What? I was able to find out some stuff. I knew that in the counselors on our unit we had a cocaine guy, a few drunks, and an Alanon woman. I believe my main counselor was a recovering boozer.  I loved that guy. He was no bullshit, had a dry-wit, liked weird toys and was a local actor.

I figured out the toy part AND the actor part from the things that he had on his office shelves. He didn't actually disclose those facts about himself to me. I remember asking him questions about it. He was pretty short with his answers. I thought he was just being jerky. But now I know why he didn't say more.  He was only telling me enough about himself that was necessary, and what he felt comfortable with. He wanted to keep the focus on me.

I can't imagine that I asked questions to take the focus off of myself. Isn't it obvious? I LOVE to talk about myself. I think I just wanted to know what I was dealing with. Who was I dealing with? And how much did they understand me? Or maybe I WAS trying to take the focus off of my pain and my issues.  Plus, I just liked to talk about drugs and alcohol.

So here's me.  I have a personal blog that talks about my family, drug use, relationships, opinions, sex, you name it.  

When I was in my group counseling class, we talked about being on Facebook, Twitter, and social media.  We talked about problems that can arise from this as a counselor.  We talked about clients googling our names.  I had a mini panic attack.

In an inpatient setting, obviously,  the opportunity to google someone isn't usually possible until you get out. Out-patient folks can do it the second they get home that night, and be right back the next day to either ask you questions, or to tell the other clients what they found out. I understand that I'm not even interning yet, but this is something I've been thinking about.

The main part that concerns me is that if something I have written here, said on a show or whatever would make a client uncomfortable or change the way they would relate to me.  What if they read my blog and are afraid to share certain parts of themselves because they think I have a certain opinion? Or that I feel a certain way about mental illness and my own inability to handle my personal brushes with it?  Because of the drugs I used, the way I parent, the luck (good and bad) I've had in recovery, my good or bad reactions to life or any of it.  The list of shit goes on and on.

I don't think I'll stop doing this blog (for now anyhow).   I won't stop sharing my story for anyone who will listen, because I think it is an important time for us who are willing to share, to share.  Like I've said a million times before, I'm just trying to help in some small way to reduce the shame and stigma of recovery, be a face that shows recovery works, so that more people can get help.

I have come to a few different conclusions that maybe I'll use a different last name for work.  Maybe I'll use my first and middle name.  Maybe I'll be like Cher or Madonna and just go by Betsey.  Or maybe I'll just use my whole, real name and deal with it as it comes.  I am not sure how I will handle it.  I will talk about it with my future employer and see what they think.  That was the suggestion of my brilliant instructor at Metro, who answered my panicky email on the subject.  Damn they are smart.

Movie week

I am planning on going to three movies this week, PLUS a speaker at the Recovery Church (yes, I said church).  It is almost like I have a fun life, other than kid stuff, or school stuff.

The first movie I am going to see is The Sapphires.  I am not trying to be Roger Ebert here, because nothing is more boring to me than hearing other people's written opinions of movies.  Unless I really like them and respect their opinion.  So I am not going to assume you respect my opinion.  This movie looks cute and my daughter and I are going to go to it together.  Plus, we are going Uptown to see it so we can feel cool.

The second movie, and the one I am MOST excited for is The Anonymous People.  This is the video below is from a Kickstarter campaign that he successfully funded the film up to this point.  He (Greg Williams) has showing screenings around the country.  He is still needing a big named distributor, to get this film to the masses.  This message is so very important.  I believe this film will be brilliant, and you can bet your ass that I'll tell you all about it after I see it.  I CANNOT WAIT.  

You can see the newest trailer for The Anonymous People,  HERE.  Watch it, share it, and SPREAD IT AROUND.  

The last movie I'll see (probably) is The Great Gatsby.

My relationship with this book is a strange one.  I read it.  But then I bought the audio-book for a road trip that we took with the family.  That was like three years ago.  I have listened to this book, with headphones,  EVERY SINGLE NIGHT, ever since.  

At first I did this to drown out Bob's horrific snoring.  (No, for real, you couldn't even believe how he snores.)  And now, I just need it to fall asleep.  I listen to a different chapter (mostly just the beginning of a chapter...because I fall asleep) depending on my mood, I guess.  The reason I continued to use this book is because the man's voice who reads it, isn't annoying to me.  Most audio-books are impossible for me to listen to, because the voices get on my nerves.  I am really weird like that.  

So it is safe to say that could probably come close to reciting this book, word for word.  I don't know who the guy is on the audio-book who reads it to me, but if I could meet him in person, I would thank him.  His voice isn't annoying, his spit doesn't crackle, he drowns out noise and he knocks me out better than Ambien.  

So it only makes sense that I would want to see the movie. It practically lives in my head.  I hope the movie doesn't ruin this for me.  

Anyway, that is my plan for the week.  Not too shabby.  

Sobriety high

I'm going out on a limb here to talk about something I know not much about. But it feels right, so here goes.  This is my opinion with maybe a few facts.

There are a several high schools around the country that are for kids who need to be away from the pressures of drugs and alcohol, so that they may not only succeed, but they may live a drug free life. For them it is a safety issue. These are the kids who have the disease of addiction.

Like most addicts and alcoholics, their behavior creates a label for them in regular schools.  They are the burn-outs (do they use that one anymore?) At my school they were called the "skids."  They are the troubled kids, the bad kids, the kids that don't really matter.  These are the kids that the school just wants to move along.  Usually.

In my day, some of them dropped out.  Some of them sold me my drugs.  Some of them made it.  Many of them struggled. And all of them were labeled.

I managed to keep a foot in all of those worlds as a teenager,  as I pretty much have been doing all of my life.

I live in a state where recovery is king.  We are often called Minne-sober.  The land of 10,000 treatment centers.  We have Hazelden, a treatment that paved the Minnesota-model, and prides itself on being the best of the best.  I might have some bias, but I think they are fucking great.  I have no hate on "The Den," as we like to call it here at our home.

This is what happened.

Here are two important schools closing in my community, and these kids and parents are left to scramble for alternative schools, maybe homeschool, back to regular public schools, maybe they will feel so screwed over, they will just drop out and give up.  If we don't care, how can they?

As the article above points out a few things went wrong with this model.  Not including the huge loss they had when a major backer of the school pulled out.  They had a zero tolerance for drug use on campus.  If you get caught, you get kicked out.  The problem with a model like that is these kids have substance abuse issuses.  OF COURSE THEY MIGHT USE.

Using a substance on campus, in a treatment center, and places where abstinence is the goal can create problems for everyone. But someone who is so sick that they are using in a sober environment, need the most help. Some folks never get to abstinence. Some need harm reduction. Everyone is different. Throwing them out, with a disease, doesn't help.

As the article above suggests, the funding by the state falls short, because of the no tolerance approach loses a lot of kids. They come in and out of the program, and the school loses funding for those students. That makes it hard to run a school. It worked for 22 years, but now, it's over.

Here is my question. And it might be a dumb one.  If addiction is a diagnosable disease, and the federal laws clearly state that all children have the right to an education, then why isn't it mandetory to help these students get through school, in a safe place? I understand that addiction issues are not the kind of  "disability"  that probably falls under the student disability act. But should it? All children have the right to be educated, right? This is a public health issue, right?  Again, it's because of the stigma of this disease. And in my opinion, it's bullshit.

That model didn't work.  But the good news is that there are more models out there. And more coming.

Actress/Author Kristen Johnston is raising money to start a sober school in NYC called SLAM. The model is different. She says, "I would NEVER be zero tolerance! We look at it like we're planting seeds." Which makes sense.  Recovery is a process.  And seeds need to be planted.

As soon as I have a link for you to donate to S.L.A.M. or other schools like this, I will post them.

I haven't looked into any other sober schools in the Twin Cities. I'm sure there are others. I just hope someday we can all think differently about this issue of addiction and leave the shaming out of it so everyone can be helped.

If I had tried to sober up in high school (it never crossed my mind), it would have been impossible in the environment I was in. But, if I would have sobered up in high school, think of where I might be? But even so, I'm here now. And it's kick ass.

I'm a baby in this process. Oh, and CNN

This is what I wore.

I had an exciting and crazy day on Monday.

CNN came to my house.  Yes, CN-mother fucking N!  What?  The only time I thought something like that would ever happen to me is if I killed a bunch of people, or stoled a bunch of stuff.  Thank goodness it wasn't for anything like that.  It was so exciting.  Wow!!

I was contacted through Twitter by this nice man, (I won't mention his name unless he says it is okay) because he had run across my blog, and wanted to talk to me about doing a story about how recovery is possible.  Also, how my blog has been helpful to me, and where I am at now.  Can I say no to something like that?  No.

In August, I'll be sober  three years. I'm a baby in this process. But my life has dramatically gotten better in these past few years, than ever before. I have purpose, direction, and LIFE that I never dreamed of really.  That is what he wanted to share, and exactly what I wanted to share. Recovery is possible, it takes what it takes, and we shouldn't judge people by their struggle

This is how my house looked with lights

Those of us in recovery hear other people's stories of recovery all of the time. But the regular "normie" folks don't. And maybe they have a private struggle, or have a friend, or a family member that they need a better understanding of what this all means, so they can stop being hurt and angry all of the time.  Maybe they need to hear what we have to say so that they can feel comfortable to speak up, get help, offer the right help, understand resources available, OR just not hate on or shame us addicts and alcoholics.

This is how I look being interviewed

There is a movement going on right now and there are a whole bunch of us trying share our stories so that we can  remove the shame and the stigma surrounded by recovery.  Not just the addiction part, but the recovery part.  I want to be able to say that I did my part to help stop it.  I am honored, absolutely honored to be asked and a part of it.

Just so you know, I am writing this right now with a camera on me and two CNN folks standing behind me, filming this as I type....cool and very awkward!  But hey, I'm getting something written!

I can only speak for myself. I don't represent the way to recover, 12-steps, counselors-in-training or any of it. I am just telling my story, of my life, and how it has has gotten better.

This is how my daughter looks when she is interviewed 

This is what I've learned about myself and being nervous.  I don't remember anything that I say.  I hope I kept it on the recovery side.  But we will see.

My daughter did a great job as well and is happy to help me tell our story of recovery as a family.  I am so proud of her.

I have more to say about this idea of sharing stories.  I will talk more about that later.  Also, I don't know where or when it will air.  There are some VERY exciting recovery type stuff coming up in the near future, and I plan on telling you all about it.

I took my last final last night, so I am BACK.  I'll see you Friday.

So...Bob once again

Here is the thing...

For the last half of this semester, I have had class from 1-9 on Friday and 9-5 on Saturday.  And Tuesday and Wednesday nights from 6-9:20 at night.   Not to mention, so much homework.

Plus, my daughter has had to be to school earlier than normal on many days.  So it has turned out that Bob has been available, and willing, to step in and help.

And I let him.

So for the past two weeks or so, he has slept here almost every night because, I've been home late or had to leave early, so he's been here for the kids.

Just so we are totally clear, he sleeps downstairs, and I sleep upstairs.  Not that it is any of your gutter-mind business, but since we have already talked about that subject here, I am just answering the questions that might be on your mind.

While I have not been here at all these past few weeks, he has done the laundry (folded AND put away), kept the kitchen clean, grocery shopped, drove the kids where they need to go, and pretty much been like Mrs. Doubtfire. Well...maybe not as kick-ass as Mrs. Doubtfire. But I am just as bitchy and frustrated as Sally Fields in that movie, so...

I guess this is good for him and good for the kids.

Welcome to the roller coaster ride folks. For those of you that are new, it has been YEARS in the making.

I am careful because this can be the kind of stuff that trips me up every time.  He tries, I try, he comes back and before you know it, it goes back to the same old stuff.  This is the longest we have gone with him living elsewhere.  I am not making any major decisions right now, I am just trying to do the best I can for myself and for the kids.  If that means allowing Bob to help, and he is willing, then that is the best thing.

It is a fact that we can't afford two houses until I get a job.  I can't get a job until I'm done with school.  I think that the time we took this past six months, and the little bit of counseling we have gone to together has helped me let go of SOME of the fear, expectations and anger.  We will always be in each other's lives because we have kids together.  It doesn't have to hurt so much.

So am I using him to make myself feel better and get rid of all of the fear, pain, and loneliness?  He has been doing better these past few weeks. This has to do with him wanting to try as hard as he can. He doesn't like his other living situation, and the grass looks greener over here. I need his help. So...win/win? I never know.

For the moment, it is.


I noticed the other day that his toothbrush was back in the drawer.  I guess that is a good thing, since he's been here for awhile.  Bob is brushing, for which the world is grateful.  But I think we will leave the rest of his stuff where it is for the time being.  And just continue to try and help each other.

Until next time...

By the way, I have some more news that I'll save until next week.  But it has to do with me, TV and some other stuff.  I know I haven't written here as much as I usually do.  But school has been a bitch. I'll be back!

Worst news of the day

Years before PTSD took Bob away, and he worked for my dad, he would always get up and read the news from the computer. He did this every day.

Then when I would get up, he would want to talk to me about the worst news of the day. The saddest, the most unfair, the most inhumane.

For years I was into it. Feeling for everyone, getting worked up about the injustices and the horror. Putting myself in there. But as life kicked me in the ass a little more, I stopped wanting to hear it. It wasn't that I didn't want to hear it, I was that I stopped being able to handle it. My brain cannot wrap around it. I couldn't handle anymore sadness.

When these thing happen, such as the school shootings, and now this marathon deal, I do my best to ignore the news. I don't want to see repeated pictures of that little boy who died, holding up that sign about peace. I don't want to know every detail about the wonderful daughter another victim was. I don't want to see the man with his legs blown off. I don't want to disrespect and ignore these folks, because I believe they should recognized, and honored, I just can't go there for too long. I can't.

There is something exploitative about these things to me too. I keep wondering if I would want my baby's picture passed around Facebook, to help people prove they are compassionate. I guess I might feel like the whole world had my back. But I might feel like no one has a right to use my sweet baby for "likes" on a Facebook page. It is a strange place to be.

Then you have the folks who post fake pictures of people who died, just to see if they can fool people into "liking" it. I saw one that said an eight year-old girl was running the marathon in honor of all who died at Sandy Hooks, and she was killed. How strange and awful is that?

Bombing the marathon was a tragic, horrific, cowardly, bullshit, awful thing to do. It is impossible for me to imagine the fear. But I can't drown myself in images and stories about it. I don't do this to be disrespectful. I do this because it doesn't honor anyone to paralyze myself with sorrow. Thank goodness it gives me a second to take pause, and appreciate that life can be over in a second, and I better do the best with what I can, and forgive myself when I can't. And love, love, love people.

If I were famous

As I was going to my class in Minneapolis the other day, I noticed this billboard.

This is Lindsey Lohan and it says "The Radio home of the train wrecks"

And as I drove my daughter to her school up north, there is this one.

This is Charlie Sheen and it says "The radio home of @#!*ing Crazy"

It must be the TMZ of radio for the Twin Cities.  I can't really speak to the programming, because I have never listened, and I don't think I will.  Besides, I really am picky about the voices of the talk-radio folks.  They can't be too phlemy, clicky, spitty or have any extra mouth sounds, or I can't listen.  I miss a lot of good shows because of this.  And don't get me started on audio books.  Or those TED talks.  I love them, but everyone's mouth sounds dry when they talk.

But I digress. (I hate when people say that).

I find these billboards so fucking mean and awful, that every time I drive by, I want to cover them up.  Yeah, addiction makes your life a train wreck.  Yes, it makes you act fucking crazy.  But don't make fun of people for how they behave when they could be struggling with this disease.  It isn't funny, it isn't cute and it doesn't help ANYONE.

So I sent them an email. And it made me feel better.

As a person in long term recovery, AND a person who puts myself out there about my addiction, your billboards with celebrities, such as Lindsey Lohan and Charlie Sheen with the title "Home of the train wreck" are so offensive, shaming, and continue the stigma of addiction, that those of us in recovery try to fight each day. 

Addiction is a brain disease. If they had cancer, or diabetes, would they be on your billboard? But because addiction causes people to behave in a bizarre way, you make fun of them. You are making fun of sick people. And it is horrible.

There are 23.5 MILLION people in long-term recovery in this country. Why don't talk about that? You only perpetuate the shame and stigma of addiction. Which only keeps people sick and afraid to get help.

Not to mention, we have a bullying epidemic right? How are those billboards NOT bullying? Those are people. HUMANS. And you are publicly humiliating them. What does that teach kids? It's okay for YOU to bully, but not them?  

Sincerely,
Betsey DeGree
www.momoffmeth.com

(It never hurts to put down the blog address right?)

I got this response, in which deleted some things, as they were personal to the person from the station who sent it:

Dear Betsy, 

Thank you for your thoughtful and reasoned note regarding our billboards. 

First and foremost - we are a pop culture station and we comment - whether you are a fan or not - on pop culture. 

Divorce is also tragic, but we have a billboard that refers to Tom Cruise's recent split from his wife Katy. 

They are not meant as serious social commentary .
They are meant as commentary on pop culture events. 

I appreciate your message and understand how you could see it that way.  I have empathy for addicts - to a point. 

If, in fact, addiction is Lindsay's actual issue.  As opposed to utter narcissism. 

However - and this is definitely an "however" - I will disagree with you on one score.  We are NOT mocking Lindsay's seeking treatment - if in fact she's sincere.  Her track record would indicate that she is not.   

She was ordered to treatment by the court after misbehaviors too numerous to begin to outline that have landed her in court repeatedly. We are mocking the ridiculousness of her years long criminal track record. 

The addicts I've known need reality checks on their behavior and its impact on their lives and those around them.  Our billboard isn't designed to be that reality check for Lindsay - it is however a statement of fact based on her behavior. 

Lindsay will never see our billboard. 

I do though hope her family - or some concerned friends, prevail on her to change her ways and get the help she needs. 

If it's an addiction - there's abundant help available.  If it's simply poor choices and self-absorption - well there is help for that too. 

I apologize if this board offends you.  It is not a lack of empathy for addiction and people who need help and sincerely seek it.  It's a lack of empathy for the bad behavior of celebrity. 

Thank you for taking the time to write me.  I hope you have a great week.

Oh boy, do I disagree with her.  So I sent a reply.

Thank you for your reply. I really appreciate that you took the time to answer me.

I am aware that there is lot of the help out there for addicts and alcoholics, as I am graduating with my Licensed Drug and Alcohol Counseling from Metro State, and will spend my time working in the field. 

As an advocate for recovery, I have a few points. 

I understand that you are a pop-culture station. I know a ton of people who listen and love your programs. I feel like those billboards maybe don't represent your station, from what I understand.  Some of them are cheap shots. That's my opinion.

Divorce isn't a diagnosable disease. But addiction/alcoholism are. No one dies from divorce (too often, anyhow.)

Listen, Lindsey has had plenty of chances to get help. She also has been given breaks that us average folks don't get. This could actually kill her. If I were a celebrity, with different consequences, and unlimited funds, I might be dead. It would be so hard to recover with that celebrity lifestyle. All of the parties, pressure, money, access. This story seems to repeat itself for so many addicted celebrities.  Their bottom is too often death. 

I have four kids, a house I can lose, all of these consequences to face. I feel like it's easier for me to recover, than it is for them. 

And if Ms. Lohan has true narcissism, which is a personality disorder, listed in the DSM-IV, a mental health issue that is almost impossible to treat, then that wouldn't be her fault either.

It's not impossible for celebrities to recover, it's just my opinion that it is much more difficult. There are plenty of people who are celebrities that do recover. Check out www.reneweveryday.com. They always have good celebrity recovery stories.

Recovery, as you have probably seen in people you may know, is a long process. It has its ups and downs. People struggle and succeed. It takes what it takes. If it takes her 10 more arrests and 20 more treatments, then that's her course of recovery. We only learn to manage our symptoms for this chronic illness. For some people, it takes a lot to get better. Some people never do.

Lindsey or her family may not (hopefully) ever see the billboard, but my kids do. I do. All of us in recovery do. People who need help do. We are trying to change the conversation about addiction and recovery. So we can remove the shame, and help more people.

I just really believe that people with addiction problems, (and in my opinion, most of Lindsey's behavior is due to this), deserve compassion. It is a hard road.  In fact, all people deserve compassion. Just everyone.

I do appreciate your response and conversation. Have a great day.

Betsey DeGree

And I suppose, since all people deserve compassion, so do the people who thought up these billboards.

NOW-- (I know this is a long, maybe overactive post)  here is the deal.  People are a long way from understanding and accepting mental illness and also addiction.  Clearly, that powers-that-be at that station are not on board.  But mostly, it is the public humiliation that bothers me the most.  I know celebrities put themselves out there.  But no one deserves to be made fun of.  Especially when we are trying to teach kids and adults NOT to bully.

When we look at our kid's Facebook or Twitter,  do we want to see people calling them "train wrecks," "fucking crazy," or "fake?"  No.  So nowhere should this be okay.

Kim Kardashian.  From a distance, you only see the word,  "fake."
This one bugs me too.  .  

Anyway, that is my take on it.  I just gave that station some free advertisements for the 300-500 people who stop here each day.  I'm sure they appreciate it.  

Please help

I cannot imagine what it is like to face the fear, and life when your health doesn't cooperate.  And to have kids, and be sick, well...I know what it is like to have a sick mom.  But to be the parents and be sick...terrifies me.

Here is a family, who needs help.  Both parent's are sick.  Kids are young.  You get it.  Read the story, and if you can contribute, or think of a way to help, go for it.

The wife happens to be the cousin of a friend of mine.

Read their story here.  

I have more to say about other stuff, but school has most of my brain power this week.  I'll be back.  Thanks.

Who you see here

One of the things about the meetings that I go to is that you can feel safe that no one is going to blab that we have seen you there, or talk about what you say.

"Who you see here, what you hear here, when you leave here, let it stay here."

Here, here!

Or at least, we aren't supposed to. A few conversations slip though the cracks. Even though we know it's wrong, we are human.  And mostly, except when it is human gossip (NOT me...well), it is done out of concern.

It is important to know that I (we) would never run into Sally from the P.T.A. at the grocery store and tell her that you started at our 12-step meeting.  I talk about my own recovery out loud to the outside, but I would never talk about anyone else's in that way.

The stuff we might say to one another, is if we notice someone isn't there for awhile. If anyone knows where he or she is. Maybe we would say. "Oh I saw her at Wednesday night's meeting and she seems fine." Or we might say, "she came late and left early Wednesday night and she seemed a little out of it."

Or if I were to notice a behavior change in one of my friends, I might bring it up to another friend.   Worry about it. Talk about it. To me, this isn't gossip. Even though maybe it's well meaning gossip, done out of caring and loving my friends in the program.

These conversations do not happen during the meetings, they usually are done during fellowship before or after the meeting.  And I am not saying they are right.  They just can happen.

The beautiful and problematic thing with having a big group of alcoholic and addicted friends in recovery, is that we grow to love each other.  Sometimes we leave, sometimes we come back. Sometimes we don't.  When you've been going to meetings with another person for a few years, and they go back out there to do more drinking and drugging, it is hard.  But it is a reality.

When I first walked in, (before the trip to Hazelden) one of my biggest fears was that I would see someone I knew.  I wasn't so concerned about people knowing I liked to drink.  It was the stigma of the cocaine and meth that scared the shit out of me.  And that I was asking for help, shamed me even more.  I just didn't want to see anyone I knew (other than the woman I knew who brought me there)  because that was too personal.

Well, I did see someone I knew.  And obviously, to protect that person's anonymity, I won't be able to give that beautiful story here.  But I will say that the thing about seeing people we know, is that THEY are there too.  And usually very happy to see us when we stroll in.  It actually can help with their recovery, as the newcomer always does.  They might know a little about us outside of those rooms but that can be very helpful.  In my case, it was a huge gift and helped our family through some hard stuff.

So, that is all I have to say about that.  We protect the anonymity of our fellows in the program.  It is a safe place to come.

It takes time to get your shit together.

So be patient.

For instance, sports.  My kids play sports. And it is freaking expensive. It's $210.00 each for baseball and $320.00 for Lacrosse. The equipment for this Lacrosse is insane.  This is a rich kids sport, for sure.

Football is the BEST program in our town because they put a $200 cap on the family. So no matter how many kids you have, you pay $200.00.

I knew hockey was out of the question, so we didn't even teach our kids to skate.  That shit is ridiculous, and not for kids who come from broke families.  Holy cow those parents pay a lot!  There is something wrong with all of it, really.

So each season for whatever sport, I do what feels like groveling and ask for scholarships. For soccer, baseball, football, and now lacrosse. I have either made payments, or asked for scholarships.  I did it when I wasn't sober and now I do it while I am sober.

And every year I have to do this, I think, "well, next year we will have more money." But we never do.

I usually can get help with at least half of the cost.  Sometimes the whole cost.  But with four kids, I understand that they can't give it all to us.  I am grateful for whatever amount we are able to get help with.

I've gotten help with people giving me their old equipment as well.  Thank goodness for that!  People are great.  I will always take whatever help I can get when I need it.  And I will return the favor when I can.

Hopefully, the year after next, will be our last year of asking for scholarships, because the following year, I'll be done with school, and working as a drug and alcohol counselor.  Obviously I will never be rich with cash, but I will have a job that I'll hopefully love. And I will be able to afford sports, without taking from the scholarship fund (I hope)  That is worth everything.

Since I've been so open with my recovery, and my addiction, asking for these scholarships, I am sure that some people think (this is most likely in my head) we are losers, who put ourselves in this situation.  They could be saying, "oh well maybe if she hadn't done all of those drugs, and she wouldn't be in this situation."  Or maybe "if Bob got a job, they could afford it."

If I hadn't done those drugs, I might not be in this situation.  But then, I wouldn't have this disease of addiction either.  I would love that to be true.  But this recovery shit is pretty amazing, so I'd miss out on that too.

The good news is, I am making a come back.  Climbing out of the hole of addiction, mental illness and separation takes time.  So if you are in my boat, or being pissed about someone else's boat, know that all we can do is our best each day.  Sometimes that means asking for help, even when it is hard to do and makes you feel like a fool.  I just have to remember that I am doing my very best.  That is all I can do.

Not to mention, my kids get to play and the should be able to play.  Let me tell you,  they are grateful too.  So thanks to all that help us.

Recovering life takes time.  The ego and the pride can get us stuck.  I have found throughout all of this that people genuinely want to help.  As long as they see me doing the right thing, they want to help me succeed.  What a kick ass thing that is.


On a side note, I am about 640  from 100,000 page views total since I started June 12th.  And none of those are me!  That may not seem like a lot, but holy shit it is to me.  Thanks for coming here and letting me barf my stuff all over the internet!

Spring break 2013

Forgive the way these pictures and text came out.  Not a very good looking blog, but I am not very high tech when it comes to these things.

This week my kids had spring break.  As I mentioned before, they have been fighting like crazy.  We obviously couldn't take a vacation to somewhere warm and wonderful.  And if you know anything about Minnesota, this winter has been LONG.  These kids have regressed back to toddlers again. I have to keep them really busy, or they drive me nuts.  So I planned out a week where we did something every day.  Something to wear them out.

This isn't a, "look what a kick-ass, fun, better than you mom I am" kind of post.  I did these things with my kids for my own benefit.  Because I couldn't stay home with them all day, and survive.  I am not that creative, or that crazy.

Besides, let's lighten things up for a minute, shall we?

So here are some pictures for you.

Monday we started at Snuffy's malt shop, where I stuck to the unhealthy eating habits.  Worth it.

Then we went to the zoo.

I hate the zoo.  It is animal jail.  Look at these giraffes.  They live in a cement closet.  And it smells in there.  The woman tried to blame it on their hair.  But I think its because they are huge giraffes, living, peeing and pooping in a cement closet.  I am pretty much against the zoo, but will go against every single one of my beliefs, when I am desperate.  

These giraffes are better because they aren't alive and suffering.  My daughter kept telling me I was ruining the zoo for other people saying stuff like, "oh, they are so cute, look how miserable."  Or, "I think the polar bear is going crazy because he is so depressed."  Apparently, people don't always enjoy the Debbie Downer with them at the zoo.  Whatever.

I felt better about bringing them to the Minnesota History Museum on Tuesday.

Here they are next to a teepee.

Ho ho ho...

This was after walking through the US-Dakota war exhibit.  Most of those say genocide, depressing, horrible, unfair, and sad.  We agreed.

And of course the 12 year old is mostly interested in weapons. He is just like that.  Future United States Marine right there.  Unless I can figure out a way to stop him.

They dug the tank.  There was also a movie that was shown inside of a plane that went through what it must have been like to be a paratrooper during war.  The plane shook, bullet holes came through the sides, and it was like we were flying.  It was pretty impressive.  You could feel maybe a teeny-tiny ounce (I mean no disrespect) of what it might have been like.  That was enough for me.  That takes some super brave souls.

So Wednesday we went to the Mall of America, against my best judgement.  I didn't take many pictures, I was just trying to survive.  I wasn't the only person who thought that it would be a good idea to go there.  I scrambled to get these coupons for $7.00 off each wristband for the kids and it STILL cost me $105.00 to get in.  Because of my badass math skills, I was so surprised at the cost that I almost passed out at the counter. There was no backing out at that point.  I couldn't be like,  "Sorry kids, I was totally kidding. We are going to IKEA and have lunch and look at light bulbs instead.  Cool?"

I will say, I was able to leave the boys riding rides, and walk around each level by myself.  I didn't buy anything, but it was nice to just watch the people, and be me for a minute.

I stopped by Caribou Coffee while strolling around the mall and found this.  I put this on Facebook, so sorry for the repeat.  But I am not sure that Xanax and Netflix are the BEST advice for relaxing.  Not for people like some of us... I was wishing I had added, "attend my 12-step group."

So on Thursday, we we went to the Walker Art Center.  Here are my twins and a buddy that we often have over.

The thing I forgot about my kids and art museums is this.  There is nudity at art museums.

I was standing there talking to my boys about how they couldn't touch anything at all while we were there.  Right directly behind me was a photo (or painting, I can't remember) of a woman's nude body from her knees, to her belly button.  She had her pubic hair down to her knees.  Like, she had extensions, on her pubes.  As I was talking, my kids were holding the laughter in, and it wasn't working.  It wasn't working at all.

Then there was the photo of the guy pooping on a teddy bear.  There was the claymation of the woman being mutilated.  Her breasts and fingers and legs being chopped off slowly.  It was creepy and cool, but my kids are not THOSE kind of kids.  Thank goodness, I think.

There was the painting of a woman holding her husbands testicles.  There were the breasts in the movies, the man who had a body suit with a tail that came around and went into his mouth.  Much of this stuff was very cool, and had I had time to look, read the little descriptions, without having to panic that they were going to break something, or worse, find something else for me to explain to them, I might have been able to enjoy it.  But I don't know enough about that type of art to even give it a shot.

The people that were working or volunteering at the Walker were not impressed with our reaction to what we saw there.  It is safe to say that art museums are for kids who can act appropriately when faced with nudity and also who can not touch every single thing that they see.  We are not prudes in this house.  Probably as far from prude as you can get.  It is seeing such things in a different way that we (I mean my boys) cannot seem to do.  Some of it was just too much.  That's all.  We stayed about 1/2 hour.  But I am glad we went.  It shocked the shit out of my kids.  That is always fun.

Tonight, the 12 year-old is at a Timberwolves game, and my daughter is at a Swarm game.  I stared at the twins for awhile, tried to let them believe that a walk was just as exciting as anything else, and caved in and brought them to Skyzone.  Dodgeball for two hours.  And yes, in case you noticed, they are wearing the same thing as they did yesterday.  If it looks clean, put it on.  Also, tonight everything gets washed, including them!!

And here I sit, in the quiet room at Skyzone, doing my homework.  If Facebook and blogging are homework.  Except for the guy who keeps talking about his panoramic camera, but uses the word "pornographic," to describe it,  this is the most relaxing part of this spring break.

I just realized that they don't have school on Monday either.  Well, the fun train has come to the station.  Good old fashioned video games, TV and fighting with each other will fill up the rest of our time off.  Have a good holiday weekend, if that is what you do!!

So here I am

I am terrified of being alone.

People have told me that I was already alone with Bob anyhow, so what is the difference?

There is a big difference. Although he wasn't able to be much of a partner here, he was still here. In the kids eyes, he was still here.  I still had the idea that I had somebody.  And there was the idea of us being a whole family. The idea of having a husband and being married.  Even if we were broken.

I could hug and kiss him if I wanted to. We still had some laughs once in awhile. I could nag him to take out the trash if I wanted to. He could give rides, pour cereal, and keep my leaving the house for long periods of time, legal.

I took the boys to a mall for a Kendama battle this past weekend. It was "Kid's Day" at the mall. The Easter bunny (I hate that bunny) was there and there were a lot of families with small kids. Lots of dads. Doing their thing. Helping, happy to be there. Being appropriate, involved, present, and all of it.

So I got (and still get) stuck comparing my insides to their outsides. The way they looked and the kind of life I imagined they had. I'm sure many of them were as happy and healthy as they looked. But I also know that many of them probably weren't. Even so,  I found myself feeling jealous and cynical. Like I wanted to whisper in their ear when I passed them by, "That will never, ever last."

I struggle with feeling sorry for myself for not having a partner. I was feeling terrible about the place that I am at, at 42 years of age. Obviously something in my head, like fucking society, has made me believe that I am not a whole, complete person unless someone of the opposite sex loves me. Who am I if I don't have a husband?  This change needed in my thinking is difficult for me to get used to. Wanting to share my life with a partner is human.  And when you have kids, it is also easier.  But it doesn't make me a person.

I catch myself wondering who the hell would ever want to share their life with me and all of my shit? Am I going to be all alone forever? Then I have to remind myself that I haven't even been separated for four whole months, and for god's sake, chill the fuck out. No one said I would be alone forever, or that even if I am, that I can't be happy.  But this is where my mind goes. All the way to forever.

Fear is a bitch.

I started doing this blog to connect with other addicts, share my story with others, and get help by helping. I wanted to show that recovery is possible and that life is better sober. I don't know if these pity-party posts help anyone, or even help me. I think this process of separation is harder than I imagined. And even with a 12-step program, and people to talk to who have been here before, it isn't going to be done without pain.  But it can be done.  And I am doing it, even though I am terrified.  There is no perfect or softer way to feel these feelings.  They are painful, and real.  I know I'll get better with time.  This is life.  

On a good note, the snow is melting.  And I love the smell of melting snow.  Have a good day!

STOP FIGHTING!

I could easily go on and on about my anxiety, depression, or how sorry I've been feeling for myself lately. But I'll stick with bitching about my kids. Welcome!

As I mentioned the other day, my week had been a little chaotic. And if I sit still to try and see why that is, it could be a number of reasons.

First, it was the week before the now-upon-us Spring Break for my boys. And I think I had told them that Spring Break was LAST week, when it actually is THIS week.  Oops, my bad.  That can cause people to lose their shit. They had an extra week of school they weren't planning on.

Also, since trying to be mindful of every bite I take, I have been a little...crabby and easily annoyed.  So maybe it is that they aren't fighting more than usual, I just hear it more. But seriously, I can hear where every one of their conversations is heading. And it is always heading to all out war.

I also believe that (although I am grateful) having the house continually in repair-mode has us all on edge.  But then again, it is better than it was.

There is the age, especially of the middle child. He's hitting an growing zone where he thinks I'm am idiot, and has no respect for much of what I bring to the table. He just wants to be left alone. I recognize that teenage bullshit, and I'll give him the space, while watching him like a hawk, and trying not to be crushed.

They promise you they aren't going to go through it, but they do anyway.

Then there is the fact that their dad and I are separated.  I keep forgetting that this is hard on them and that kids want their parents to be together.  I personally have been going through a hard time dealing with this myself and keeping my head up these past few weeks.  But that is another story.  So if it has been hard on me, it is harder on the kids.

I have a lot of activities planned for this week off of school. I have to keep them busy or they will kill each other. I cannot leave my kids alone right now anymore than I could when they were little. The fights they have been having lately are constant.  (Although as I finish this post this morning, come to think of it, last night went just fine so...)

Here is what happened when I was at school the other night. Their dad had gone back to his place and left them home alone around 8:30 PM. Which isn't illegal or even neglectful for an average family. And nine times out of ten, it's okay for our family too. But not this night.  Mind you, these doors are the cheapest doors you can buy. But they are brand new. (The above mentioned boy, was not the one who did it.)  At class, I start getting phone calls and texts that there was some attacking going on and that people were going crazy.  I hadn't even driven myself that night to school.  But I go to school with some very kind people, and got a ride home.


There they were, all watching TV and doing fine.  I was having chest pain.  Sometimes I feel so underprepared to handle these folks.



So here we are. 5 days after that fucked up night. I replaced the door. Made the one responsible for putting a hole in it,  stain it, and there has been a lot of conversations. Many of which consisted of me going on and on and probably beating the point into the ground. These kids learned some coping skills that were not as ideal as I set out to teach them.  There is a lot of relearning that has taken place and change takes time.  This shit is hard. I have somehow get the kids to realize that we are together in this. I know someday they will be buddies. I just hope they don't kill each other before that happens...

Like all things, this is a process.  We make mistakes and we move on.  Parenting is hard.  It is exhausting.  It isn't all love, hugs, kisses and proud moments.  It is often painful, stressful, and for me, lots of guilt.

Luckily, I know that we do love each other.  It just gets messy sometimes.  Like I heard my father-in-law say once.  One kid is a hobby.  Any more than that, is the real deal.  My deal is pretty fucking real over here.