It's none other than my favorite railroad man, Jeff Sichta!
One of my biggest supporters and half of one of my favorite couples of all time...Jeff is the husband of one of my eBay hens, Kelly. He is hands down one of the kindest, funniest and most uplifting people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. One of these days I'm going to roadtrip to Nebraska and hang out with Jeff and Kelly. Whether they like it or not.
I hope there are enough zombie movies at Redbox for you, Jeff.
Thanks to everyone for playing! Of course after reading all of your top three movies, I realized how many I had overlooked. So. Many. Movies.
4/23/12
Pay it Forward Monday! 5 Free Redbox Movies Giveaway!
Suburban Prep...if you're reading, you won the Starbucks card. I need to hear from you by Wednesday otherwise I'm going to have to pick another winner.
BUT...today's Pay it Forward is all about the movies. If you're a friend of mine, you know how much I love my movies. And I especially love FREE MOVIES. The only thing better is if someone goes to pick them up and then puts them in the dvd player for me. And then doesn't talk while we watch them.
I have mentioned Redbox many times, and that's because I love them. They usually have a great selection of movies (aside from new releases, a lot of the kiosks now carry old favorites and now they have several of the Marvel superhero movies (Iron Man 1 and 2, Thor, Captain America) to get us nerds whipped up into an Avenger frenzy)(yes I'm going, are you kidding? Opens May 4th.).
So today's Pay it Forward Giveaway is this: one winner will receive codes for 5 free movies from yours truly. These codes will be sent via email. I am not affiliated with Redbox in any way, I just have a bunch of free codes and would like to share them with the world. Or my 15 regular readers.
How do we win this spectacular prize, you ask? Simple. Just leave a comment telling me your 3 favorite movies. Winners will be picked randomly, not by how closely your top three match mine (and I will not judge you if Moneyball or one of the Alvin and the Chipmunk movies are on your list. At least not to your face.)
My top three? Easy.
Shawshank Redemption
Jurassic Park
Rear Window
(if I had to pick another one I would unashamedly have a tie between 13 Going on 30 and Mean Girls. Or Wedding Crashers. And maybe Zoolander.)
Three movies I will sit and watch again and again and again, no matter how many times I've seen them. Of course I have tons of other favorites but for some reason those three act like video Ritalin for me. And I love them.
I look forward to hearing what YOUR favorites are! Contest ends at 7:00 a.m. on Wednesday, April 25th. One comment per person.
By the way...right now it's 4:00 a.m. I am reeling with insomnia. Any tips? I fall asleep just fine but BOOM around 3 a.m. every morning I'm up, like some bloated rooster. I'm actually looking at my dog, who is snoring right next to me, with envy. I have a feeling this is yet another gift from that bastard Perry Menopause. Hey Perry, the thickening waist was enough this year. Really.
4/19/12
Starbucks Card Winner!
SUBURBAN PREP....it's you!
Please send your email to me at happyhausfrau @ comcast.net
Thanks for playing, everyone!
Please send your email to me at happyhausfrau @ comcast.net
Thanks for playing, everyone!
4/16/12
Pay it Forward Monday: $10 Starbucks Card Giveaway!
If you've been a reader of mine for any stretch of time, you know this about me: I'm blessed. Incredibly blessed. The kids and I have been the recipients of some totally humbling acts of kindness (a complete Christmas dinner delivered on our doorstep, gift cards to stores and restaurants, boxes of clothes and accessories, etc.)...some from people we know personally, others from complete strangers.
Every single time someone did something to give me a little lift, I'd think to myself, "Self...you make sure to pay it forward." Of course I'd also usually think to myself, "Self, get a hold of yourself and stop blubbering. People are starting to talk."
For Lent, some of my facebook friends and I participated in a "Random Acts of Kindess" project. We decided that instead of giving things up for Lent, we'd practice 40 days of kindness. And guess what? It stuck. At first it was kind of tricky, almost like I had to remind myself to be kind most of the time (because I still reserve the right to think bad thoughts once in a while. We're all allowed to do that now and then.). But as the 40 days continued, and even after the 40 days were up, I was delighted to discover that it had become a habit.
Holding doors, letting people with just a few items go ahead of you at the store, gifting your friends with little somethings just because...it's a good feeling. I mentioned that due to our sick and wrong Totino's Pizza habit, we have a plethora of Red Box free movie codes. One of my new favorite things to do is carry a few extra with me and give one to people I see at a Red Box. I know it's only a buck, but people are always so shocked, and so thankful that it's worth ten times that to me.
So anyhoo...a few months ago, when I was hurting pretty bad financially, I won a gift card to Starbucks from one of my favorite bloggers. Linny's Vault, who reminds me a lot of myself at her age, and who I think may be the only other person I know who will publicly admit to truly loving her t.v. shows, ran a little Starbucks giveaway in February. And she did it because someone else had done something nice for her. I was the lucky sap who won, and believe me, I couldn't get my ass to Starbucks fast enough to treat myself.
I promised her I'd do the same, as soon as I had some extra money. So here goes.
Some lucky reader will win a $10 Starbucks gift card from yours truly. Here's what you have to do:
1. Leave a comment here, on this post. It can be one word, it can be a rant, it can be anything. Just leave a comment.
AND THAT'S IT!
I am not affiliated with Starbucks in any way shape or form (although I'd like to think at least some of my muffin top is due to a Frappucino or two). This little giveaway is funded solely by me. Because it's my turn to pay it forward a little bit.
Contest will end tomorrow, Wednesday April 18th, at 6:15 a.m. Central Standard Time (I think that's what it's called here in Minnesota). One comment per person, please. Winner will be chosen entirely at random and will need to provide me with their email address since the gift card will be in the form of one of those crazy e-gift cards. But please don't leave your email in the comments unless you like getting correspondence from Nigerian royalty and people who want to know if you've had the vaginal mesh implant. Or maybe that's just me, but whatever.
That's it, folks. I'm hoping to do several more Pay it Forward Mondays. Because it feels so darn good.
4/14/12
Six on Saturday
Ok ok...I know it's not Tuesday but I feel like I'm in 10th grade
again and have this overdue paper just looming over me. I owe you guys a
List Post. All four of you...I can sense your need from here.
(pssst...I started this yesterday, when it was Friday.)
It's a Friday, it's nice and chilly, and I'm feeling downright sprightly today. Henry is performing in a flash mob along with his 8th grade choir group later today, and of course I volunteered to chaperone because I WOULDN'T MISS THIS FOR THE WORLD. He cracks me up...Henry has always been the kid who isn't afraid to show his "fabulous" side and I love that about him.
(The flash mob was awkward and hilarious.)
So here's some listy stuff for ya:
1. Movie madness! Totino's Party Pizzas are practically their own food group in my house...and yes, I'm well aware that many times I've preached about processed food, junk food, yucky food, etc. But you can't beat a Party Pizza. When I was pregnant with Molly, I used to put Charlie down for a nap (or leave him sleeping in the car...let's be honest here) and I'd eat an entire Party Pizza all by my fat pregnant self. But anyhoo...for a limited time, Party Pizzas have free Red Box rental codes printed inside the boxes. So that means I have A LOT of free movies. There was a long, dry stretch without any good movies for a while (what's a girl to do??) but lately, a few titles came up that sounded promising. Here's what we've watched:
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close: I now call this "Extremely Long and Incredibly Boring". What a waste of Tom Hanks. Sorry, I've heard the book is AMAZING but the movie was not only uninteresting (aside from the always ethereally beautiful Viola Davis) (girl crush), it featured a very, very annoying kid. I can only handle so much quirky in one lifetime.
The Descendants: Watch this movie. Now. Here's how much I loved this one: I forgot about how much I can't stand George Clooney within the first 10 minutes. Plus, it has Matthew Lillard who played Shaggy in the live action Scooby Doo movies, and I love him. Ooooh..plus, another one of my girl crushes, Judy Greer. One of those movies that, when it ends? You're sad that it's over. It made me want to ditch my family and move to Hawaii. Or take them with me and move to Hawaii.
Tower Heist: Sometimes, I like a movie that offers nothing more than some escapism. A movie that will make you laugh a little, sometimes a lot. A movie that has some cool music and more than a few good character actors. And I'll admit it...I love me some Alan Alda. This movie did it. Also, it reminded me of how funny Eddie Murphy used to be.
Tintin: Amazing. I watched this one with Henry and William, and they absolutely loved it. I was completely blown away by the animation...seriously, it's only a matter of time before we're done with human actors. It was that good. I think it helped that we have always been Tintin fans in this family, a million years ago I bought a complete set of the Tintin books at a garage sale and the kids read them over and over and over. But, I do recommend this one, especially for the boys. And before someone calls me sexist or accuses me of gender stereotyping...let me say, stuff it. This is a boy movie. Plain and simple. Sometimes things are black and white, and as much as I hate the fact that we have pink Lego's and the world should be a unisex, gender neutral landscape, the bottom line is that some things are going to appeal more to one gender than the other. And this is one of them.
Young Adult: Obviously this wasn't a family movie, I watched this one with my BFF and her husband. My BFF fell asleep in the first 20 minutes, I made it almost the whole way, he watched the entire thing. Here's the thing about this movie: it's depressing. Patton Oswalt is one of my weird oddball crushes, and he always makes whatever he's in sort of watchable (he was fabulous in United States of Tara) but the movie, as a whole, was like a Xanax. I wanted it to be awesome because it was written by homegirl Cody Diablo, but this was no Juno.
That's it for the movies, now on to a little rant:
2. Is anyone else getting bored with the seemingly endless flow of "Oh my gawd being a parent is so hard" and "shhh don't tell anyone but sometimes I hate my kids" and "Gee parenting is a lot more than being able to buy skinny jeans in 2T and researching the best organic soy almond vanilla milk sold in 100% reused sustainable packaging" stuff? Books by bloggers, that whole Mamastery thing, celeb moms coming clean about their struggles with parenthood...it's starting to annoy me.
Newsflash: the only people pressuring all of you to be perfect parents are YOU. There seems to be this godawful one-upping thing that has surfaced in the last 10 years or so in regards to parenting. Call me the bitchy old burned out mom in the corner (or as my dear friend Carol puts it so eloquently, "the pile of ashes over here") but I don't get all the fuss. Yes, it's hard. Yes, someone you gave birth to can be an asshole sometimes. Yes, your life changes and no, you won't be 100% happy with these changes 100% of the time. Get over it.
Besides, someone else came to this breathtaking conclusion over 40 years ago and wrote about it. Her name was Erma Bombeck and if you haven't taken the time to read something, ANYTHING the woman wrote, I suggest you do it now. She was the real trailblazer in the whole "Aww being a mom kind of sucks" movement and she expressed herself without trying to be the cool, edgy modern mom that everyone seems to be killing themselves to be nowadays. And yes, I just typed out the word "nowadays". It's only a matter of time before I get a short, sensible haircut and start keeping Kleenex in my sleeves.
3. I'm still sad about Charlie. He's had another bad morning. HOWEVER. I am about to become one of "those" moms. One who makes a fuss. One who sends emails and calls superintendents and principals and counselors, demanding answers. I was subbing in Special Ed. the other day, and it dawned on me: all of these kids are getting special accommodations in their schooling simply because they have been diagnosed with something: ADHD, EBD, Asperger's, Down's, Autism...and some haven't been diagnosed with ANYTHING other than "he has a tough time". These kids (and I love them, by the way, don't you think for one second I am speaking in a disparaging tone) are given different paths, they are shown extra compassion, they are allowed to learn in their own way. They have their own staff members who show up for work every single day just for one reason: To ensure that these "specials" are getting the education they deserve.
Why hasn't my kid been offered this help? It dawned on me, on Wednesday. He has a diagnosis (severe depression). We've had literally HUNDREDS of meetings with school faculty. And not once, not ONCE in any one of those meetings, not in any email or phone call or voicemail left, did anyone ever suggest that hey...maybe Charlie needs to be shown a different path. Maybe this kid, this child who tried to commit suicide (I mean..really..did that not raise a big old red flag to anyone in the faculty??), this boy who used to break down and start sobbing in class, this kid who so obviously is suffering from something that is beyond his ability to control..maybe he needed accommodating. He needs a 504 plan, and you know what? He's going to get it now. Even with only 41 days of school left, my boy is going to be acknowledged.
So now I'm not only sad, I'm pissed. Pissed at myself for not putting this together sooner, instead of 6 weeks before he's supposed to graduate. Pissed at every single one of those school counselors for not suggesting this. Pissed at his therapist, who makes a very nice living out of counseling depressed teenagers, for not bringing this up oh I don't know, like 3 years ago. I'm just pissed that my kid has once again fallen through the cracks. And it makes me wonder (Carrie Bradshaw reference, folks), how many other kids have gone before him?
Depression is a real illness. It's not talked about very much, there aren't support groups for the parents of depressed kids (I'm actually a little envious of how the Asperger community has bonded..they call themselves the Aspies. I wonder what the Depression parents would call ourselves..Saddies? We need a name, dammit.). But my son is disabled just as much as the kid with raging ADD, just as much as the kid who is lost inside his own head, just as much as the kid with cerebral palsy. I just wish I had realized it sooner.
Where am I now, only on 3? Geeze. Sorry.
3.
Aughh...it's 4, Jenny.
4. Phase Two of Project Big Daddy is about to launch. And this one is going to be a doozy. Phase One was mind-blowingly easy, and when I sit down and write my mini-novel to you guys, the novel where I tell you what has happened, how I got my new, handsome and awesome attorney, how Secretary may or may not be the man in their relationship...well...you will be dumbfounded. Like me. It's crazy, y'all. Crazy. But crazy in a good way.
5. I did get a good sized check from Secretary (yes, from her and not her husband..go figure). I am now officially terrified of money, and so I have been cautious with this tiny windfall. I did get the kids a little sumpin' sumpin', to try and make up for a few spectacularly depressing Christmases and birthdays, but nothing major. In my head I was all ready to go treat myself to one of those newfangled flatscreens with internet, so I could sit on my couch and not EVEN HAVE TO GET UP TO CHANGE DVDs! But once I put that check in the bank...I changed my mind. I have a 2,000 lb t.v. that works perfectly fine, and a DVD player that is also just fine. Our XBOX died, but the kids did get a Playstation 3, which has Netflix on it. So, entertainment-wise? We're good.
But...mama wanted to treat herself, just a little. So I did make one purchase, one selfish purchase that was completely frivolous, absolutely non-essential (sorry, old friend, I did have to bring that up). I bought the entire, complete, 10-season DVD collection of....wait for it...."Friends". And I'll be there for you...oops sorry, for some reason that's stuck in my brain these days. Yes, my dears, that's what I did. I didn't get a good haircut, I didn't get fake eyelashes woven in (because mine are disappearing, and yes I've considered it. Stop judging me.). I didn't buy any new clothes or treat myself to the expensive underwear.
I bought Friends. My awesome real life friend Danielle found it on Craigslist for me and the two of us drove to a little town about 25 minutes from home to get it. We laughed on the way there, because really, how insane am I that I'd take an hour out of my life in the pursuit of Friends DVDs? Pretty insane. But, in the end, I'm so happy with my purchase. I offer no apologies when I say that I think it's one of the funniest shows ever. But I do have to say...what's with the constant nippling, Jennifer Aniston? Those things should have their own agent.
6. Mitt Romney reminds me of Don Draper. Only I don't think about Mitt Romney when I'm in the shower. Apparently I'm not the only one who sees a resemblance:
Ok my lovelies. That's the list. Hope everyone has a wonderful and safe weekend!
P.S. Special thank you to everyone who reached out after I wrote about Charlie. Sometimes the love I feel from you guys, both my friends "in real life" and those I have yet to meet in person, is what makes the difference between a day spent weeping in a fog and a day spent not weeping in a fog. You rock. Thank you for that.
(pssst...I started this yesterday, when it was Friday.)
It's a Friday, it's nice and chilly, and I'm feeling downright sprightly today. Henry is performing in a flash mob along with his 8th grade choir group later today, and of course I volunteered to chaperone because I WOULDN'T MISS THIS FOR THE WORLD. He cracks me up...Henry has always been the kid who isn't afraid to show his "fabulous" side and I love that about him.
(The flash mob was awkward and hilarious.)
So here's some listy stuff for ya:
1. Movie madness! Totino's Party Pizzas are practically their own food group in my house...and yes, I'm well aware that many times I've preached about processed food, junk food, yucky food, etc. But you can't beat a Party Pizza. When I was pregnant with Molly, I used to put Charlie down for a nap (or leave him sleeping in the car...let's be honest here) and I'd eat an entire Party Pizza all by my fat pregnant self. But anyhoo...for a limited time, Party Pizzas have free Red Box rental codes printed inside the boxes. So that means I have A LOT of free movies. There was a long, dry stretch without any good movies for a while (what's a girl to do??) but lately, a few titles came up that sounded promising. Here's what we've watched:
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close: I now call this "Extremely Long and Incredibly Boring". What a waste of Tom Hanks. Sorry, I've heard the book is AMAZING but the movie was not only uninteresting (aside from the always ethereally beautiful Viola Davis) (girl crush), it featured a very, very annoying kid. I can only handle so much quirky in one lifetime.
The Descendants: Watch this movie. Now. Here's how much I loved this one: I forgot about how much I can't stand George Clooney within the first 10 minutes. Plus, it has Matthew Lillard who played Shaggy in the live action Scooby Doo movies, and I love him. Ooooh..plus, another one of my girl crushes, Judy Greer. One of those movies that, when it ends? You're sad that it's over. It made me want to ditch my family and move to Hawaii. Or take them with me and move to Hawaii.
Tower Heist: Sometimes, I like a movie that offers nothing more than some escapism. A movie that will make you laugh a little, sometimes a lot. A movie that has some cool music and more than a few good character actors. And I'll admit it...I love me some Alan Alda. This movie did it. Also, it reminded me of how funny Eddie Murphy used to be.
Tintin: Amazing. I watched this one with Henry and William, and they absolutely loved it. I was completely blown away by the animation...seriously, it's only a matter of time before we're done with human actors. It was that good. I think it helped that we have always been Tintin fans in this family, a million years ago I bought a complete set of the Tintin books at a garage sale and the kids read them over and over and over. But, I do recommend this one, especially for the boys. And before someone calls me sexist or accuses me of gender stereotyping...let me say, stuff it. This is a boy movie. Plain and simple. Sometimes things are black and white, and as much as I hate the fact that we have pink Lego's and the world should be a unisex, gender neutral landscape, the bottom line is that some things are going to appeal more to one gender than the other. And this is one of them.
Young Adult: Obviously this wasn't a family movie, I watched this one with my BFF and her husband. My BFF fell asleep in the first 20 minutes, I made it almost the whole way, he watched the entire thing. Here's the thing about this movie: it's depressing. Patton Oswalt is one of my weird oddball crushes, and he always makes whatever he's in sort of watchable (he was fabulous in United States of Tara) but the movie, as a whole, was like a Xanax. I wanted it to be awesome because it was written by homegirl Cody Diablo, but this was no Juno.
That's it for the movies, now on to a little rant:
2. Is anyone else getting bored with the seemingly endless flow of "Oh my gawd being a parent is so hard" and "shhh don't tell anyone but sometimes I hate my kids" and "Gee parenting is a lot more than being able to buy skinny jeans in 2T and researching the best organic soy almond vanilla milk sold in 100% reused sustainable packaging" stuff? Books by bloggers, that whole Mamastery thing, celeb moms coming clean about their struggles with parenthood...it's starting to annoy me.
Newsflash: the only people pressuring all of you to be perfect parents are YOU. There seems to be this godawful one-upping thing that has surfaced in the last 10 years or so in regards to parenting. Call me the bitchy old burned out mom in the corner (or as my dear friend Carol puts it so eloquently, "the pile of ashes over here") but I don't get all the fuss. Yes, it's hard. Yes, someone you gave birth to can be an asshole sometimes. Yes, your life changes and no, you won't be 100% happy with these changes 100% of the time. Get over it.
Besides, someone else came to this breathtaking conclusion over 40 years ago and wrote about it. Her name was Erma Bombeck and if you haven't taken the time to read something, ANYTHING the woman wrote, I suggest you do it now. She was the real trailblazer in the whole "Aww being a mom kind of sucks" movement and she expressed herself without trying to be the cool, edgy modern mom that everyone seems to be killing themselves to be nowadays. And yes, I just typed out the word "nowadays". It's only a matter of time before I get a short, sensible haircut and start keeping Kleenex in my sleeves.
3. I'm still sad about Charlie. He's had another bad morning. HOWEVER. I am about to become one of "those" moms. One who makes a fuss. One who sends emails and calls superintendents and principals and counselors, demanding answers. I was subbing in Special Ed. the other day, and it dawned on me: all of these kids are getting special accommodations in their schooling simply because they have been diagnosed with something: ADHD, EBD, Asperger's, Down's, Autism...and some haven't been diagnosed with ANYTHING other than "he has a tough time". These kids (and I love them, by the way, don't you think for one second I am speaking in a disparaging tone) are given different paths, they are shown extra compassion, they are allowed to learn in their own way. They have their own staff members who show up for work every single day just for one reason: To ensure that these "specials" are getting the education they deserve.
Why hasn't my kid been offered this help? It dawned on me, on Wednesday. He has a diagnosis (severe depression). We've had literally HUNDREDS of meetings with school faculty. And not once, not ONCE in any one of those meetings, not in any email or phone call or voicemail left, did anyone ever suggest that hey...maybe Charlie needs to be shown a different path. Maybe this kid, this child who tried to commit suicide (I mean..really..did that not raise a big old red flag to anyone in the faculty??), this boy who used to break down and start sobbing in class, this kid who so obviously is suffering from something that is beyond his ability to control..maybe he needed accommodating. He needs a 504 plan, and you know what? He's going to get it now. Even with only 41 days of school left, my boy is going to be acknowledged.
So now I'm not only sad, I'm pissed. Pissed at myself for not putting this together sooner, instead of 6 weeks before he's supposed to graduate. Pissed at every single one of those school counselors for not suggesting this. Pissed at his therapist, who makes a very nice living out of counseling depressed teenagers, for not bringing this up oh I don't know, like 3 years ago. I'm just pissed that my kid has once again fallen through the cracks. And it makes me wonder (Carrie Bradshaw reference, folks), how many other kids have gone before him?
Depression is a real illness. It's not talked about very much, there aren't support groups for the parents of depressed kids (I'm actually a little envious of how the Asperger community has bonded..they call themselves the Aspies. I wonder what the Depression parents would call ourselves..Saddies? We need a name, dammit.). But my son is disabled just as much as the kid with raging ADD, just as much as the kid who is lost inside his own head, just as much as the kid with cerebral palsy. I just wish I had realized it sooner.
Where am I now, only on 3? Geeze. Sorry.
3.
Aughh...it's 4, Jenny.
4. Phase Two of Project Big Daddy is about to launch. And this one is going to be a doozy. Phase One was mind-blowingly easy, and when I sit down and write my mini-novel to you guys, the novel where I tell you what has happened, how I got my new, handsome and awesome attorney, how Secretary may or may not be the man in their relationship...well...you will be dumbfounded. Like me. It's crazy, y'all. Crazy. But crazy in a good way.
5. I did get a good sized check from Secretary (yes, from her and not her husband..go figure). I am now officially terrified of money, and so I have been cautious with this tiny windfall. I did get the kids a little sumpin' sumpin', to try and make up for a few spectacularly depressing Christmases and birthdays, but nothing major. In my head I was all ready to go treat myself to one of those newfangled flatscreens with internet, so I could sit on my couch and not EVEN HAVE TO GET UP TO CHANGE DVDs! But once I put that check in the bank...I changed my mind. I have a 2,000 lb t.v. that works perfectly fine, and a DVD player that is also just fine. Our XBOX died, but the kids did get a Playstation 3, which has Netflix on it. So, entertainment-wise? We're good.
But...mama wanted to treat herself, just a little. So I did make one purchase, one selfish purchase that was completely frivolous, absolutely non-essential (sorry, old friend, I did have to bring that up). I bought the entire, complete, 10-season DVD collection of....wait for it...."Friends". And I'll be there for you...oops sorry, for some reason that's stuck in my brain these days. Yes, my dears, that's what I did. I didn't get a good haircut, I didn't get fake eyelashes woven in (because mine are disappearing, and yes I've considered it. Stop judging me.). I didn't buy any new clothes or treat myself to the expensive underwear.
I bought Friends. My awesome real life friend Danielle found it on Craigslist for me and the two of us drove to a little town about 25 minutes from home to get it. We laughed on the way there, because really, how insane am I that I'd take an hour out of my life in the pursuit of Friends DVDs? Pretty insane. But, in the end, I'm so happy with my purchase. I offer no apologies when I say that I think it's one of the funniest shows ever. But I do have to say...what's with the constant nippling, Jennifer Aniston? Those things should have their own agent.
6. Mitt Romney reminds me of Don Draper. Only I don't think about Mitt Romney when I'm in the shower. Apparently I'm not the only one who sees a resemblance:
Ok my lovelies. That's the list. Hope everyone has a wonderful and safe weekend!
P.S. Special thank you to everyone who reached out after I wrote about Charlie. Sometimes the love I feel from you guys, both my friends "in real life" and those I have yet to meet in person, is what makes the difference between a day spent weeping in a fog and a day spent not weeping in a fog. You rock. Thank you for that.
4/10/12
Who Broke My Kid?
It's a little after 10 on this chilly, sunny spring morning. It's my day off, a day I usually look forward to with great relish: what to do? Clean the house (we just had a week off for spring break, and the house is TRASHED)...go to the gym (ha), walk the dog, write a blog post...
How about spend an hour online trying to figure out what to do about a broken kid?
The fourth (and final) quarter of the school year started yesterday. It's also the final quarter of Charlie's senior year. This is supposed to be the last quarter of high school for him, ever.
Right now, he's sleeping downstairs.
I got a call from the school yesterday, telling me that he had missed the first block (that's the first class of the day).
I'm pretty sure I've regaled you guys with tales of how hard it is to wake him up in the morning. For sure, I know I've shared with you the stories of how hard it is to have a kid who suffers from depression. I've told you what it was like when he tried to kill himself at the ripe old age of 13.
There have been police calls, hospitalizations, meetings with doctors and principals and counselors and teachers. Ambulance rides and emergency rooms and therapy and pharmaceuticals. Behavior modification techniques, bribery, tearing down and then building back up. More tears shed than can possibly be counted. I've said things to him that haunt me to this day, things said in the white hot heat of a moment, things that can never be unsaid no matter how hard I try.
My kid is broken.
I go downstairs now, quietly. I hear his breathing and see the outline of his body under his covers. He is 6'2" now, a lean and muscular 180 pounds. Stubble on his chin, his manly chin. His voice is deep when he's awake but looking at him now, watching his chest go up and down and listening to the air escape his body and then be pulled back in, all I can see is this:
All I can smell is his hair after a bath, that soft baby smell of Johnson and Johnson. All I can feel is his warm smooth skin, so white it was almost glowing even in broad daylight. All I can focus on are those beautiful green/hazel eyes, those eyes that bespoke of a huge intelligence even back then.
I think of the hours I spent rocking him, nursing him, taking him on walks and playing with Hot Wheels and reading dinosaur books and truck books and Richard Scarry books. Laughing with him, pushing him on swings and delighting in each new discovery, each milestone he reached.
But my kid is broken now. How did he break? Was it my fault? Did I do something to cause this, or...maybe even worse...was it something I didn't do?
I think about how he was the first of four kids. How his siblings arrived after him, the first one when he was only 15 months old, the other two in rapidfire progression soon after.
I think of how I thrust him out into the world, relieved to get a break when he was in preschool, delighted to be down to three kids for the day when he was in first grade. I think about homework I was too tired to help with, classroom parties I tried to attend but had to leave due to a crying baby/hungry baby/sick baby. The times I shushed him in order to allow one of his siblings more nap time.
Of course, I think about the divorce. Did that break him? Or was there already a fissure somewhere on that sweet porcelain surface, a hairline crack that couldn't stand the weight of a world collapsing on top of it?
What if it had never happened, the divorce? Would Charlie be at school right now, getting ready to graduate? Would he be the captain of a team or the valedictorian or the "most likely to" anything? Would I be busy making plans for a graduation party and gushing to people about how he had narrowed down his college choices to two out of state schools and the University of Minnesota?
Or would he have been broken, still?
I won't ever know the answer to that. I can beat myself up from now until I take my last breath and I won't ever know what, exactly, caused my kid to break. I watch myself now, overcompensating with the other three, hovering over them and clucking over them like the world's most possessive helicopter parent of all time. How I watch them for even the tiniest sign of breakage.
I'm ashamed at myself for telling him, just this morning:
"I give up."
I cry as I try to imagine what it must feel like to hear your own mother say those words to you. I pray that he understands I don't mean it. I don't give up.
I won't give up.
I may need a break now and then, a moment or two or three to gather my thoughts, to stop shaking, to let things settle. But I won't give up.
I keep looking at that picture. It's tucked into the frame of the huge mirror in my bedroom. I have pictures of all the kids tucked into that frame...one of Molly at age 3, pigtails in her hair and her eyes squinted from the force of a giant smile. Henry eating an ice cream cone, a single drop of melted cream and sugar splotched on the front of his shirt. Toddler William, barefoot and happy. And Charlie, baby Charlie sitting in that old Graco stroller, remnants of a picnic lunch on his chin, his strawberry blond curls like a halo around his head.
That's my baby. My boy. My broken boy. And I won't give up on him.
Not ever.
How about spend an hour online trying to figure out what to do about a broken kid?
The fourth (and final) quarter of the school year started yesterday. It's also the final quarter of Charlie's senior year. This is supposed to be the last quarter of high school for him, ever.
Right now, he's sleeping downstairs.
I got a call from the school yesterday, telling me that he had missed the first block (that's the first class of the day).
I'm pretty sure I've regaled you guys with tales of how hard it is to wake him up in the morning. For sure, I know I've shared with you the stories of how hard it is to have a kid who suffers from depression. I've told you what it was like when he tried to kill himself at the ripe old age of 13.
There have been police calls, hospitalizations, meetings with doctors and principals and counselors and teachers. Ambulance rides and emergency rooms and therapy and pharmaceuticals. Behavior modification techniques, bribery, tearing down and then building back up. More tears shed than can possibly be counted. I've said things to him that haunt me to this day, things said in the white hot heat of a moment, things that can never be unsaid no matter how hard I try.
My kid is broken.
I go downstairs now, quietly. I hear his breathing and see the outline of his body under his covers. He is 6'2" now, a lean and muscular 180 pounds. Stubble on his chin, his manly chin. His voice is deep when he's awake but looking at him now, watching his chest go up and down and listening to the air escape his body and then be pulled back in, all I can see is this:
All I can smell is his hair after a bath, that soft baby smell of Johnson and Johnson. All I can feel is his warm smooth skin, so white it was almost glowing even in broad daylight. All I can focus on are those beautiful green/hazel eyes, those eyes that bespoke of a huge intelligence even back then.
I think of the hours I spent rocking him, nursing him, taking him on walks and playing with Hot Wheels and reading dinosaur books and truck books and Richard Scarry books. Laughing with him, pushing him on swings and delighting in each new discovery, each milestone he reached.
But my kid is broken now. How did he break? Was it my fault? Did I do something to cause this, or...maybe even worse...was it something I didn't do?
I think about how he was the first of four kids. How his siblings arrived after him, the first one when he was only 15 months old, the other two in rapidfire progression soon after.
I think of how I thrust him out into the world, relieved to get a break when he was in preschool, delighted to be down to three kids for the day when he was in first grade. I think about homework I was too tired to help with, classroom parties I tried to attend but had to leave due to a crying baby/hungry baby/sick baby. The times I shushed him in order to allow one of his siblings more nap time.
Of course, I think about the divorce. Did that break him? Or was there already a fissure somewhere on that sweet porcelain surface, a hairline crack that couldn't stand the weight of a world collapsing on top of it?
What if it had never happened, the divorce? Would Charlie be at school right now, getting ready to graduate? Would he be the captain of a team or the valedictorian or the "most likely to" anything? Would I be busy making plans for a graduation party and gushing to people about how he had narrowed down his college choices to two out of state schools and the University of Minnesota?
Or would he have been broken, still?
I won't ever know the answer to that. I can beat myself up from now until I take my last breath and I won't ever know what, exactly, caused my kid to break. I watch myself now, overcompensating with the other three, hovering over them and clucking over them like the world's most possessive helicopter parent of all time. How I watch them for even the tiniest sign of breakage.
I'm ashamed at myself for telling him, just this morning:
"I give up."
I cry as I try to imagine what it must feel like to hear your own mother say those words to you. I pray that he understands I don't mean it. I don't give up.
I won't give up.
I may need a break now and then, a moment or two or three to gather my thoughts, to stop shaking, to let things settle. But I won't give up.
I keep looking at that picture. It's tucked into the frame of the huge mirror in my bedroom. I have pictures of all the kids tucked into that frame...one of Molly at age 3, pigtails in her hair and her eyes squinted from the force of a giant smile. Henry eating an ice cream cone, a single drop of melted cream and sugar splotched on the front of his shirt. Toddler William, barefoot and happy. And Charlie, baby Charlie sitting in that old Graco stroller, remnants of a picnic lunch on his chin, his strawberry blond curls like a halo around his head.
That's my baby. My boy. My broken boy. And I won't give up on him.
Not ever.
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