Stats, Furloughs, and the Month of October

I'm pretty active on Facebook.  I post funny things about the kids, pictures from vacations and, of course, all of A's videos on herpetology and skateboarding.  I especially like how this forum has allowed me to keep in touch with, and often reacquaint myself with, childhood friends and teammates.  I like Facebook.

I've mentioned it a few times around here about how the girls get significantly more attention in comparison to the boys.  My parents are the worst in this area.  I'm getting used to my parents first asking about the girls and then the boys get an inquiry almost as an afterthought or something they know they are "supposed" to do.  C and S think I'm exaggerating about this, but they too cross this line and, frankly, have absolutely no idea what it's like for our family.  I think at this point the boys blow it off and shrug their shoulders, simply accepting that grandma and grandpa go to all of M's games and E gets special dinners.  I can't tell you how many times a day I get the dreaded question, "How ARE the girls?" It gets so old.  It still hurts my feelings.

On Facebook, however, the stats are right there.  If I post anything about the girls (which I do just as much as the boys), I get quadruple the amount of likes.  People who don't even know the girls add comments and light up that blue thumbs up.  I don't know why it bothers me.  Am I secretly still harboring sibling rivalry with my dead sister?  Is my frustration colored by the experiences with my family?  Am I jealous for the boys? Why do I have a problem with the attention the girls get?  Their story is undoubtedly sad and tragic.  I think maybe some of these feelings stem from my need to get people to understand that yes, the girls lost their parents, but they have a family and we're taking care of them. I don't want them or us as a family to continue to be defined by tragedy.  We have five kids and work hard everyday to treat them the same even when everyone outside of this house doesn't.

Or maybe this is all in my head.  As Chris Rock once said, though, "You can't argue math.  Everything else is debatable."  In this case, the stats don't lie.

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If I see one more post or comment from people about "essential" federal employees, blah, blah, blah, I'm going to scream.  These are real people with real families and mortgages, bills and expenses.  My husband works really hard and is very good at what he does.  He hasn't had a raise in years.  He works in the public sector because he wants his job to have a purpose. He is now sitting up in bed reading sports news on his nook.  One day not getting paid, probably no big deal.  Weeks not getting paid...we could have issues.

Congress passed a law.  The Supreme Court upheld it.  An idiot group within Congress is attempting to thwart our legislative process and is willing to have the government shutdown.  Obamacare has NOTHING to do with the budget (it's an insidious law that actually makes sure EVERYONE in the country has access to health insurance...egads!).  In my day, we called this being poor sports.  It makes me absolutely sick.  In the meantime, I'm going to continue to work my butt off just in case I have to be the sole breadwinner in the house.

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I hate the month of October.  The accident was in October.  This month last year K almost died. C and I were talking yesterday that we question everything we do during the month of October thinking that it's colored by our feelings at this time. This will be four years since the accident.  It still feels like it was yesterday.  It still feels that in 23 days we'll have to relive it all over again.

Mother's Guilt and a Family Affair

Saturday night, as A and I walked through the pouring rain, trying to dodge huge puddles while I carried the umbrella and he manned the flashlight, we started talking about the comedy of errors that led us to that sopping baseball field.

"It's basically been a family affair Mom...everyone contributed, but I still think it's D's fault."

It all started with a typical Saturday around these parts with D and L both having baseball games AND pictures, and L having a soccer game sandwiched in between.    D's game was very early, so the day started with early rising and making sure that I had all of the various uniforms and gear for L's transitions between sports.

Oh, and we had snack for L's baseball game, which plays an important role later on.

D had a great baseball game, pitching three great innings, hitting two doubles, scoring three runs and making some other great infield plays.  He was really stoked.  L and I left early from the baseball game to rush over to his soccer game in which he was equally fierce.  I swear, that kid is SO tough and works so hard running up and down that field.  He had three great goals and was also very happy with his game.  After the game, he and I swapped uniforms in the car, while K and D went to grab a sandwich and pick up the snacks for L's baseball pictures and game.

At this point, everything was running like clockwork and I was secretly patting myself on the back for managing the logistics.  (on the backside it's important to note that I arranged E's pickup from the airport for a college recruiting trip and the other two minions were fed and occupied). 

L and his cousin W both had some great hits and fielding plays and loved batting back to back with their "cousin" bombs into the outfield.  D came back to the game with his dad because his friends were playing on a field next to his brother's. He walked up to me sitting in my green, sideline chair and handed me his itouch. I have told him a million times NOT to bring his touch to games, the beach, etc. and once again he didn't listen.  I told him as much and then he placed the touch in the cup holder of the chair.

Game over, I went over to bring the kids snacks, while K wandered over to the majors game next door to watch D's friends.  I hustled L through getting his gear together, grabbing the leftover snacks, because we (me, K, A and M) had to get home to get ready for the b'nai mitzah of a boy on A's team and his sister. 

Are you still following?  I was rushing because we all needed to shower AND I still had to iron A's shirt.  While walking out, I arranged with one of the dad's of D's friend to let him stay till the game was over and give him a ride home.

Again, virtual patting on the back occurred as we all pulled up to the country club right on time where the b'nai mitzvah was taking place, looking lovely and ready to enjoy the evening.  And enjoy it we did with the moving ceremony, great food and fun dancing.  A and M had a blast.

We got home around 8:45 and D asked me where his itouch was.  I immediately said, oops, must still be in the car with the green chair. As I walked into the garage I yelled back over my shoulder, "D I've told you over and over you shouldn't bring this thing to games!"  I opened the hatch and, as I'm sure you've figured out, the green chair wasn't there.  I'd left it at the field.

D started crying and went into his bed.  I yelled for A to change quickly and we'd headed over to the field to see if it was there.  At this point, it was pouring down rain and had been for several hours.  I hoped that I had just left the chair in it's bag next to the spot where I parked and that the touch would be okay.  I also thought we could use the rice trick and dry it out if it was caught in the rain.

Much to our dismay, we found my chair sitting exactly where I had left it, and no itouch.  Someone had taken it.

I got home and felt terrible.  He loves that thing.  We got it for him when he turned 10 as a way to try to show him that we thought he was a grown up boy and in an attempt to break him out of the funk he was in at the time.  It is such a stress relief for him.  He listens to music, checks sports scores, texts with his friends (under my supervision) and plays fun interactive games with his soccer buddies.

Somehow, I got myself to sleep knowing that I had an early morning drive an hour away in MD the next day for soccer.  I woke up at 3am, however, physically feeling awful.  I could not go to sleep.  The anxiety was terrible.

So I did what every logical person would do at 3am and ordered him a refurbished itouch from the same generation on ebay for $129.  I even bought him another VT silicone cover on amazon.  As I clicked the buttons, I felt a calmness come over me and the physical symptoms left.  I was able to read on the couch for a few minutes and then fall right asleep when I went back up.  I went completely against all of my parenting instincts, but at that point I would do anything to stop feeling the way I was feeling. The thought of him not having it for 3 more months pushed my mommy guilt in major overdrive.

The next morning, I started to tell him about my middle of the night purchase when he said, "I know it was my fault Mommy, I can wait till Christmas."  I could have kept my mouth shut, but I told him what I had done.  We are going to work out a contract for his behavior to see if this will be an incentive to keep the touch.  I'm crossing my fingers.  I'm not sure what I'm going to say to the other kids.  I also haven't told K yet (he's in a totally stressing about money mode lately).  Not sure how I'm going to swing that one. 

While it was D's fault, it was also totally my fault for leaving the chair.  He is only 11 after all.  K also dropped the ball by not helping me get things together after the game.  A even added (dripping with sarcasm) that if I didn't have to iron his shirt that I wouldn't have been rushing.  Hence, the family affair.

I'm proud of D for processing the situation overnight and taking some blame.  He did show me how grown up he can be.  I'm not very proud of my parenting in this situation, but can forgive myself for once again doing the best I can do at the time.  I think holding him to some changes in his actions around here might work.

Mommy guilt and a crazy schedule can create a formula for a hopefully minor parenting blunder.  It's at least nice to see my little boy smiling that his mommy did something just for him that didn't involve laundry, feeding or driving.

There is no manual

I tend to write a significant amount on this blog about my challenges with parenting the girls.  When I talk about the boys, it's usually a quick snippet of pride or cuteness or vacation smiles.

This will not be that post.

I am really struggling with our 11 year old D.  Outside of our house, he is the perfect child. At school, all we hear about from his teachers and peers is how kind he is, what a good student he is, how responsible and well-behaved he is.  On the sports field, we get constant feedback on what a great player he is, not because of his natural athletic ability, but his work ethic and what a great teammate he is.  He's got wonderful friends.  He loves his little cousins and goes out of his way to teach all of them his "fist bump" or high fives.  He's funny and interesting and silly.

Within the four walls of our house (or in the car on the way home), however, it is a different story.  In short, he is driving me crazy. He doesn't listen...EVER.  I have to repeat myself twelve times to get him to do what I ask.  Most of these things are simple tasks.  Go to bed.  Eat your breakfast, lunch, dinner. Stop leaving your baseball, soccer, (name another sport) stuff by the front door, family room floor, or kitchen floor instead of on your designated shelf.  Get out of the shower (after 30 minutes).  Go to bed.  Stop reading the paper, playing your itouch, checking scores on the computer and get in the car, got to bed, eat your dinner, or do your homework.  You see the pattern.

All of these seem like typical parental complaints.  Kids aren't little robots and expected to follow directions to 100% perfection.  I get that.  But if he would just do it 50% of the time our lives would be so much easier.  What is more difficult to handle is how he treats everyone in the family.  He simply CANNOT stop bugging everyone, especially in the car.  Touching them, teasing them, getting in everyone's personal space.  Last week, I had to tell him to sit in the car with his feet on the floor, hands folded in his lap and eyes closed so he wouldn't be tempted to tease his little brother sitting next to him or his cousins behind him.  He is exhausting.

At times he just seems so angry.  He is the middle child on steroids given our new family situation.  He just wants to be noticed and it doesn't matter if it's negative or positive.

My guilt is on serious overdrive on this one.  He was 7 when Jeanne and Mike died. He knew exactly what was happening and saw all of us fall apart.  He had diarrhea, wet the bed and clung to me whenever I was around.  I don't think I really addressed this at the time since I was trying to keep our household running while helping with the girls. I wasn't the best mom in the first 9 months after the accident, and then his cousins moved in causing all kinds of turmoil.  He was just a little boy.  He still is a little boy. Despite knowing all these things, my typical reaction to him is frustration, anger, and yelling. He knows exactly how to push all of my buttons and I let them all be pushed.  Ugh.

At back-to-school night last week, his religion teacher pointed out a project their class had on the wall.  Each student was asked to cut out three leaves from construction paper, writing an adjective to describe themselves on each of them.  A fourth leaf was created to write down a time when they knew God is with them.  I scanned the wall as the other parents filed out to the next class, trying to find D's leaves.  I noticed other students' work.  "God is with me when I take tests."  "God is with me when I play baseball." "God is with me when I try something new."  All typical, mundane 11 year old items.

I found D's first three leaves.  Adventurous.  Kind.  Hardworking.  Definitely three words I'd used to describe D.  Tears welled in my eyes as I read the fourth leaf.

"God was with me when my aunt and uncle died and when my great-grandfather died."

My sensitive boy.  When I still want to scream "Fuck you God!!  Where were you??!!" my wise pain in the ass points out that he knows God was with him at those times.  And, once again, I get the reminder of how the accident profoundly affected my kids.

I'm not sure what to do about D.  In my head, I know why he might be acting the way he is.  For some reason, though, I'm having a hard time breaking the cycle and usually my frustration wins out over reason or at least a cooler head.  Our crazy schedule and the sheer number of kids definitely doesn't help the situation. I sometimes wonder if the boys are still having delayed reactions to the trauma.  Their needs have certainly always seemed to be pushed aside to the more acute and, frankly, louder needs of the girls.  There are moments when D is especially being difficult that I can still see that little seven year old through his deep blue eyes. Scared. Angry. Sad.

I am probably the millionth blogger to write this statement: PARENTING IS HARD! There is no customized manual for each kid.  While I'm still questioning my faith in all of this, maybe I need to follow in D's steps a bit and try to feel God's presence in the times of struggle.  Maybe this recognition will give me the calm and understanding I need to tackle my difficult boy.  At this point, anything is worth a shot.

The Squeeze

"That was so much fun mom.  It was like we were a family again."

These words came out of A's mouth as we pulled away from the golf course on Monday night.  M was at soccer camp with her team (5 days of a M break was nice) and E was at the beach for the day with the swim team. 

I came up with the idea coming out of a pretty good therapy session.  A family golf night at our local par 3 followed by dinner at Friendly's.  I haven't touched a golf club in 14 years (since before pregnant with A), but the boys play with their dad regularly.  We figured the four of us would play, and L could walk the course and putt for me.

We had an amazing time.  The weather was gorgeous.  The boys were relaxed and shocked that their mom could actually play golf.  We laughed and simply enjoyed being together.

Once the words came out of his mouth, I could tell A felt guilty.  He tried to cover it up by saying he meant it felt like old times and that he knew we were still a family.  L jumped in with, "We used to be a family of 5, but now we have 7.  We are still a family A!  We just now have girls."  I didn't want him to feel guilty (I have enough of that by myself), so I jumped in and said, "I know what you mean buddy.  That was lots of fun.  We should do it again."  A is such a quiet, even keel kind of guy, that his words hit me like a ton of bricks.  I felt that the best I could do was acknowledge his feelings.

I thought about that night a lot this week.

Living with grieving children is really hard.  Not only do they miss their parents, but their family was broken apart.  I know this isn't our fault.  At times, however, the girls treat the five of us like it is.  Their profound grief squeezes the rest of our grief out of the way like we don't have the right to grieve or miss our old life.

I lost my sister and brother-in-law.

A, D and L lost their aunt and uncle who they loved very much.

K lost his sister and brother-in-law.

The 5 of us lost of a part of our family identity.

Family relationships have been severed, re-built, and strained.

The five of us try to hide these losses.  The girls' behavior makes us feel like we're in some sort of grief competition and they win by default, and with no mercy rule.

When they aren't around, we all feel our losses as a nuclear family.  We notice how much less tension and stress there is between us and around us. I don't mean to blame the girls in any way (can you say more guilt).  This is our reality, though, and it feels good to say it even if it's only on my blog.

I know we did the right thing taking the girls.  I just wish the boys didn't have to feel the effects as much.

Brain Dump

I've been a bit absent on the blog of late due to many reasons.  The main one being life.  It's mostly the good kinda busy.  Paid work, family work and sprinklings of fun.  To catch everyone up, here's a list:

1.  We went to the beach.  It was mostly fun.  Weather was bad.  K and D missed most of it due to all-star baseball.  That kinda sucked.  I missed both of them and single parenting at the beach was tough.  To make up for D missing the beach, K is bringing the big boys to a "boys" weekend.  Good for them, but I'll miss them.  I don't like the split vacations and it's another reminder that without the girls we wouldn't be doing it.

2.  A got his cast off yesterday.  Yay!  He's walking funny still and has to do some therapy, but we're hoping he'll be back to normal activities in a few weeks.  Hopefully good as new by our vacation in Hilton Head and back on the soccer field in mid-August.

3.  The girls are, well, the girls.  My new easy breezy approach is helping a bit.  I'm starting to come to the realization that my ability to to teach, shape or mold their lives may be limited.  In lots of ways, they came to us already formed and while those personalities often clash with our family, accepting it's not our fault feels better.  A little less guilt is always a good thing.

4.  I hate swim team.  It does not gel with our family.  But the girls swim and it's been a great way for them to make friends and become part of our neighborhood.  I'm trying to help when I can, but in general I find it one step too far.  Only 3 weeks left including divisionals and all-stars so I see the end in sight.

5.  K's relationship with M has really been going well.  His relationship with E has pretty much stayed the same.  They speak to each other only when necessary and it's usually prompted by him with 2-3 words responses from E.  He has never tried to replace her dad.  It's sad to see how she keeps him at such a distance.

6.  The neurologist does not think my mom has Parkinson's.  My dad sounded upset by this since I think he wanted a magic pill to make things better. She goes for more tests this week.  I feel really bad for her.  I feel really bad for both of them.

7.  I helped sister C with her twins' 7th birthday party last weekend.  It was a beach theme and loads of fun.  I didn't have the time to help, but doing it made me feel good.  L had an awesome time at the party.  The highlight was giving them their "very own" chess set after he taught both of them to play last week.  I love cousin love.

8.  Last week L and D walked directly into a wasp nest during one of our "herping with A" outings.  One sting for L and about 15 for D.  It was really scary and painful for both of them.  A seemed more concerned that he missed getting the two ring-necked snakes he had caught on film.  Love the brotherly love.

9.  It's finally nice and hot in these parts so we spent lots of time at the pool the last two days.  L's swimming is coming right along.  C's and her kids came with us yesterday and the cousin peer pressure enticed all the kids to up their swimming prowess.

10.  Lots of college stuff going on with E.  Coaches are calling which is really cool.  Her leading schools so far are William and Mary, Bucknell, Rice and still Navy.  Class rankings just came out, so with her number one ranking, awesome SAT scores, five 5's on her AP exams and her grades, the sky is the limit.  The trick is finding the academic fit with someplace she can swim.  At times the thought of her going away to college is overwhelming.  At other times it's freeing.  Complicated feelings to say the least.

Fracture

Just got back from the ortho...not good news at all.  The ER misdiagnosed the ankle sprain and A's got a fracture.  They put him in a walking cast and I'm currently researching waterproof cast sleeves so he can swim at the beach.

No skating all summer and hopefully he'll be back to playing soccer by middle of August.  Basically his entire summer is shot.

Seriously universe.  Give us a break (no pun).

Freeze

Sometimes  I wish I could just freeze time.  Let's face it, most of the time I wish I could turn back time and go to easier times with no tragedies, pain, or grief marking our family landscape.

Today L graduated from kindergarten.  My baby is growing up and there isn't anyone else to follow in his footsteps.  It was the another one of my "lasts" as a mommy.  Sniff.  Sniff.  He told me all week not to cry.  I didn't (much)...at least not in front of him.  He is just so freaking cute right now that sometimes I just want him to stay six.

Receiving his completion certificate.

Mommy and graduate.

Siblings got to leave class to come to the ceremony...in our family cousins count too :)

 

L being silly with his Aunt C.

My boys.

 

Such a sweet boy is our L.  Funny, smart and those big brown eyes get me every time.   I can't wait to watch him grow up...just as long as it doesn't go too fast.