There are moments like these
times when forever is at the door
When just to catch a glimpse
of the stars above
twinkling down upon us
Father time seems to disappear
leaving everything at a standstill
The ticking of the clock
the same as footsteps
Climbing and climbing
reaching a point high above the shore
To look down
to see the crashing waves
and to know all is well
To know that you can fly
as you lean forward
with wings spread out
The ocean sprays you gently
as you dip close
yet not so close that death could grab you
Back up into the purple sky
past the fluffy clouds
If only the moon wasn't so far away
way beyond the tree line
and out there with the stars
Milky white
hanging up there with eternity
True life isn't down here
nor up there
But through the mirror
where true souls are reflected
Lies can't be spoken
for once reversed they become true
The road isn't paved
only gravel that crunches beneath the hooves
Yes, a horse
a beautiful white horse
Riding side saddle
confined by proper clothes
hair securely braided winding around the head to form a bun
Recklessness comes to play
becoming a dare to straddle the horse
galloping away at full speed
Behind her is the castle
her prince patiently waiting
Out here there is danger
danger that teases at freedom
The highway man comes into view
And what the town would say he stole
she gave away freely
Beneath the heavy branches of an old tree
while the horse drinks from a stream
The sky is reflected
the moon
a ball of white lying beneath the surface
of shallow water that holds deeper dreams
Hopes float past
flowing down the stream
moving around the rocks
rippling and gurgling
becoming a roar as the edge appears
A tumble down the rocks
a deeper pool
Swimming away
becoming a butterfly
fluttering around
this flower or that flower
The ocean is gone
freeing you
giving you wings and beauty
This is forever
near an ocean
down a path
in stream
Find your forever
let the rhythm move you
theft does not always leave you penniless
From the ashes
the shattered glass
the damage
From all of this strength is born
seeking an ending
maybe a beginning
Hang on the rapids aren't for eternity
Dance with me
hang upon my every word
twirl me all around
Put me high up on a pedestal
take my offered hand
Follow me up the ladder
across the skies
Become one with me
let the whirlwind carry you away
Become a funnel of dust
obscure when single
noticeable when in groups
dust
yes
dust
Olivia J Stuart 1998
Sunday, September 18, 2016
Journey into a Soul
This was written under the name Olivia J. Stuart in late 1997. It was written after the separation, but just before the actual divorce. The dedication at the bottom reads: Dedicated to the ones that destroyed the free spirited girl that they took under their wing. It took me years to regain the confidence that I had when I met them. I am free again, and no one will ever take that from me again. This piece was revised in 2003.
Looking back through old notebooks I find myself once again.
The person that I used to be
so full of hopes and dreams
My soul is empty
devoid of any hope
The jewel of my existence
long ago destroyed
Now rotting away
each page told a story
that only a troubled soul could tell
The stories became real
through the eyes of the reader
I feel as if my youth has been lost
replaced by a young adult mentality
My life took this turn
it was after I let those pages go
Maybe my soul lies in that landfill
each pen that I pick up
is powered by a sheltered mind
The emotions no longer run rampant
they are in tight control
Who is this person?
so different from the last composer
Those pages are lost
gone forever
Destroyed by a fervent desire to change
but change into what I ask myself
Maybe that is why love turned away
a true injustice was committed
Baring the soul page after page
and grabbing it up so carelessly
Now only memories of those stories remain
a thousand pages lost
To find my new existence
which can only begin
when the heart is free
To feel wild emotions again
would be like a dream come true
I see the picture clearly
the hallway of doom
The sound of tearing paper
the sound of amazement
at what the true feelings meant
Only wanting to be free
instead it was the sound of prison walls closing in
The garbage bag was full
a sense of relief
or it might have been guilt
It all happened so quickly
for to pause would have meant it stayed
In the other room people talked
and the one that knew
shook his head
For who can stop a determined woman?
one who is hell bent on her mission
why not even Hercules could!
When the journey began
stepping out into the cold
starting into the gaping hole
Tonight it was empty
waiting to swallow whatever I throw in
Slowly I raise my arm
and toss the bag into the gaping hole
It falls to the bottom almost without a sound
this was the beginning of a new life
or so I thought
Confusion sat in
shaky at first
then moving on without that lifeline
Now I know the truth
the injustice of it all
How can you love someone
who is not being true to themselves?
My heart was in peril
it's lifeline smothered in garbage
Now it's time
time to unleash all of these emotions
I need to set my heart free
and fill these pearly white pages
Then my life can begin again
writing is my happiness
my only true release
To know me
to understand me
to love me
is to read what I write
That is the door into my soul
the root of my existence
September 18 2016 I tweaked a few of the lines, but other than that it is unchanged.
Looking back through old notebooks I find myself once again.
The person that I used to be
so full of hopes and dreams
My soul is empty
devoid of any hope
The jewel of my existence
long ago destroyed
Now rotting away
each page told a story
that only a troubled soul could tell
The stories became real
through the eyes of the reader
I feel as if my youth has been lost
replaced by a young adult mentality
My life took this turn
it was after I let those pages go
Maybe my soul lies in that landfill
each pen that I pick up
is powered by a sheltered mind
The emotions no longer run rampant
they are in tight control
Who is this person?
so different from the last composer
Those pages are lost
gone forever
Destroyed by a fervent desire to change
but change into what I ask myself
Maybe that is why love turned away
a true injustice was committed
Baring the soul page after page
and grabbing it up so carelessly
Now only memories of those stories remain
a thousand pages lost
To find my new existence
which can only begin
when the heart is free
To feel wild emotions again
would be like a dream come true
I see the picture clearly
the hallway of doom
The sound of tearing paper
the sound of amazement
at what the true feelings meant
Only wanting to be free
instead it was the sound of prison walls closing in
The garbage bag was full
a sense of relief
or it might have been guilt
It all happened so quickly
for to pause would have meant it stayed
In the other room people talked
and the one that knew
shook his head
For who can stop a determined woman?
one who is hell bent on her mission
why not even Hercules could!
When the journey began
stepping out into the cold
starting into the gaping hole
Tonight it was empty
waiting to swallow whatever I throw in
Slowly I raise my arm
and toss the bag into the gaping hole
It falls to the bottom almost without a sound
this was the beginning of a new life
or so I thought
Confusion sat in
shaky at first
then moving on without that lifeline
Now I know the truth
the injustice of it all
How can you love someone
who is not being true to themselves?
My heart was in peril
it's lifeline smothered in garbage
Now it's time
time to unleash all of these emotions
I need to set my heart free
and fill these pearly white pages
Then my life can begin again
writing is my happiness
my only true release
To know me
to understand me
to love me
is to read what I write
That is the door into my soul
the root of my existence
September 18 2016 I tweaked a few of the lines, but other than that it is unchanged.
Unnamed
This was written sometime while I was a junior or senior working at Hardees in Dickson TN. This would be the original Hardees that was on the bypass.
I saw your face as you walked in. You were shaggy and unkempt. Your steps were slow, your shoes ragged. The clothes that you wore were dirty and torn. Thick working gloves black from frequent use.
A coat thick for cold winters in a small box overflowing with other personal belongings.
The day is scorching hot. You look lost among the other people who fill the room. The smell of food is thick and you look hungry. The restaurant is full and you find the only empty table and stare out of a window. Outside the traffic is whizzing by.
We all watch you. You are so out of place in here. Lunch hour in the middle of the rush. Drinks and burgers, and cones and shakes. You appear not to notice the other customers.
Then just as suddenly as you had arrived, you leave. You just walk out the door. We all comment on the sadness of your situation. The odd way you chose our restaurant to rest, and retreat from the heat.
When you return we offer you a glass of water. A smile crosses your tired face. The first of many homeless people to take up residence on the streets of Dickson.
I saw your face as you walked in. You were shaggy and unkempt. Your steps were slow, your shoes ragged. The clothes that you wore were dirty and torn. Thick working gloves black from frequent use.
A coat thick for cold winters in a small box overflowing with other personal belongings.
The day is scorching hot. You look lost among the other people who fill the room. The smell of food is thick and you look hungry. The restaurant is full and you find the only empty table and stare out of a window. Outside the traffic is whizzing by.
We all watch you. You are so out of place in here. Lunch hour in the middle of the rush. Drinks and burgers, and cones and shakes. You appear not to notice the other customers.
Then just as suddenly as you had arrived, you leave. You just walk out the door. We all comment on the sadness of your situation. The odd way you chose our restaurant to rest, and retreat from the heat.
When you return we offer you a glass of water. A smile crosses your tired face. The first of many homeless people to take up residence on the streets of Dickson.
Friday, September 16, 2016
The Misadventures of Muleford and Mindy
This was written over 21 years ago when I was a Junior or Senior in high school. We once had a Labrador mix puppy that literally outgrew our tiny house and yard and picked on my mom's Pomeranian dogs. This was back when I could write all the time.
In a small house with a rather large white picket fence lives a young woman named Mindy. She's a small woman of twenty and weighs no more than eighty pounds.
Mindy has a one-hundred pound Labrador mix. The dog's name is Muleford. He is well behaved and never gives Mindy an ounce of trouble.
If you look at the two of them closely you might think they look alike. Mindy has small brown beady eyes magnified by huge glasses. She looks rather homely and frail. Muleford has large, brown probing eyes and drools gallons of saliva. To outsiders he looks like a scary dog.
One day Muleford brought his leash to Mindy, who was reading an encyclopedia. "Oh Muleford, must we go for a walk right now?" Mindy asks in a low squeaky voice. "Woof!" answered Muleford in a loud, deep bark. "Oh okay, if you insist." "Woof, Woof, Woof!" He walks up to her and she puts the book aside. "Please do not drool on me." The dog opened his big mouth and gave her a big, sloppy lick on the cheek, nearly knocking her glasses off.
Outside they proceed to get into her Volkswagen Bug. Muleford must first run around the yard peeing on the trees and flowers and the car. Then he jumps onto the front seat and tries to squeeze around so he can hang out of the window. Mindy carefully shuts the car door and Muleford sticks his head out of the already rolled down window. When she starts the car Muleford howls along with the classical music playing on the radio.
At the first stop sign, Muleford attempts to jump out the window to chase a cat. "Grrrr Grrrr, Woof, Woof!" "Muleford please calm down!" Mindy says in her quiet but firm tone of voice. The cat stops to stare at the car as it passes by. It seems unperturbed by the overgrown beast hanging from the window.
As they pull onto a busy street Muleford goes nuts. There is a lot to bark at and he gives the world outside of the car his full attention. The cars driving by and the people walking down the street all stare openly at the strange site of this huge dog hanging out the tiny car's window.
At the red light Muleford began barking at some kids in the back of a pick-up truck. The kids were laughing and pointing. "Look at the dog!" They scream in unison. Muleford continues barking and growling. A woman sitting in the back of the truck with the children tell the kids to ignore the dog and casts a wary glance his way. Finally Mindy has had a enough and tells him to calm down. He ignores her and continues barking. She continues on her way once the light changes to green.
Just then a rattle-trap of a car sped by dragging a muffler. Muleford jumped out of the window and begins chasing the car and any other car that blows the horn at him. Mindy hastily pulls over to the side of the road and jumps out. She begins frantically waving her arms and screaming "Don't hit my dog, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" Cars were swerving so they wouldn't hit him. The drivers were yelling angrily from their open windows. And then she realized that her dog was no where in site.
As she stands there in the road, she suddenly notices him on the side of the road licking a spilled milkshake. She runs over to him, grabbing his leash. "Muleford, are you okay?" She is shaking, but relieved that her dog is okay. Muleford trots across the road and stands next to the car waiting on her.
Once again they were on their way. This time Muleford could only stick his snout out of the window. There was drool all over the window. The side of the car almost looked as if someone had slung a bucket of water on the side of the car. "Muleford, sometimes I can't understand why you go on these wild trips. Really, I should not have to chase you every time you decide to run wild. "
I tweaked this just a bit, but otherwise it is just the way it was originally.
In a small house with a rather large white picket fence lives a young woman named Mindy. She's a small woman of twenty and weighs no more than eighty pounds.
Mindy has a one-hundred pound Labrador mix. The dog's name is Muleford. He is well behaved and never gives Mindy an ounce of trouble.
If you look at the two of them closely you might think they look alike. Mindy has small brown beady eyes magnified by huge glasses. She looks rather homely and frail. Muleford has large, brown probing eyes and drools gallons of saliva. To outsiders he looks like a scary dog.
One day Muleford brought his leash to Mindy, who was reading an encyclopedia. "Oh Muleford, must we go for a walk right now?" Mindy asks in a low squeaky voice. "Woof!" answered Muleford in a loud, deep bark. "Oh okay, if you insist." "Woof, Woof, Woof!" He walks up to her and she puts the book aside. "Please do not drool on me." The dog opened his big mouth and gave her a big, sloppy lick on the cheek, nearly knocking her glasses off.
Outside they proceed to get into her Volkswagen Bug. Muleford must first run around the yard peeing on the trees and flowers and the car. Then he jumps onto the front seat and tries to squeeze around so he can hang out of the window. Mindy carefully shuts the car door and Muleford sticks his head out of the already rolled down window. When she starts the car Muleford howls along with the classical music playing on the radio.
At the first stop sign, Muleford attempts to jump out the window to chase a cat. "Grrrr Grrrr, Woof, Woof!" "Muleford please calm down!" Mindy says in her quiet but firm tone of voice. The cat stops to stare at the car as it passes by. It seems unperturbed by the overgrown beast hanging from the window.
As they pull onto a busy street Muleford goes nuts. There is a lot to bark at and he gives the world outside of the car his full attention. The cars driving by and the people walking down the street all stare openly at the strange site of this huge dog hanging out the tiny car's window.
At the red light Muleford began barking at some kids in the back of a pick-up truck. The kids were laughing and pointing. "Look at the dog!" They scream in unison. Muleford continues barking and growling. A woman sitting in the back of the truck with the children tell the kids to ignore the dog and casts a wary glance his way. Finally Mindy has had a enough and tells him to calm down. He ignores her and continues barking. She continues on her way once the light changes to green.
Just then a rattle-trap of a car sped by dragging a muffler. Muleford jumped out of the window and begins chasing the car and any other car that blows the horn at him. Mindy hastily pulls over to the side of the road and jumps out. She begins frantically waving her arms and screaming "Don't hit my dog, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" Cars were swerving so they wouldn't hit him. The drivers were yelling angrily from their open windows. And then she realized that her dog was no where in site.
As she stands there in the road, she suddenly notices him on the side of the road licking a spilled milkshake. She runs over to him, grabbing his leash. "Muleford, are you okay?" She is shaking, but relieved that her dog is okay. Muleford trots across the road and stands next to the car waiting on her.
Once again they were on their way. This time Muleford could only stick his snout out of the window. There was drool all over the window. The side of the car almost looked as if someone had slung a bucket of water on the side of the car. "Muleford, sometimes I can't understand why you go on these wild trips. Really, I should not have to chase you every time you decide to run wild. "
I tweaked this just a bit, but otherwise it is just the way it was originally.
Saturday, September 10, 2016
A Knife Through the Heart
With my oldest son not living in my home, it is like there is a void. I want him to fill that void, but when he tries it is like he doesn't fit anymore. Sometimes I forget that he has aged beyond 11 1/2 years old. I try to do things with him that he once loved. He gets frustrated at my weak attempts to entertain him. He yells at me that he isn't some little kid anymore. I am crushed. I know he isn't. But I have missed out on so much of his growing into this angry teenager that he now is.
Gone is my outgoing bubbly little boy. The little boy with shiny blonde hair that talked incessantly and drove me batty all while being the center of my universe. We had a lot of bad days. They started when he was born and continued right up until the day he was moved to his Dad's house. That was a tragedy all in itself. One that took months to recover from. That is where the first shaking up of my faith started.
My son doesn't feel like he fits. He yells at me that he doesn't belong. I yell back. When he comes it is constant turmoil. There is a lot of crying as he picks on the younger brother and sister. Pillows thrown into their faces, blankets thrown over them, toys put up high out of reach. Angry words telling them to move or they are stupid or ignorant.
I hear him say he hates this or that or this person or that person. I am lost. I do not know how to help him or even if he would let me. I did this. I let him go, and let him down and broke his little boy heart. I left him to follow a husband and raise two more small kids. I often live too far away. It is hard to talk to him on the phone, because his life and my life are so drastically different.
Routines that are necessary for my youngest son are the undoing of our visits with my oldest son. The quiet that I crave after a long day is gone. Trying so hard to please this stranger that comes to visit me.
I know he hates me. I know he resents me. I know his dad tries to poison his mind against me every day. I also know it is working. According to his dad, I am a recovered drug addict, was once a prostitute, I hate him, my new husband hates him, I love the younger kids more, and it goes on and on.
When my son tells me he wants to leave because I won't let him drink a gallon of milk in one setting I cringe and say lets go. He won't go, but I still offer. He hates how I try to keep him from binge eating which results in him being violently sick the rest of the night. He doesn't like it that I won't watch gore filled movies and that I monitor his video games that he brings. My rules are the worst. I am the enemy. Everything I do or say to him is wrong, except my cooking, I can do that very well for him.
I try to include him in the meal preparation. Its a good time to bond and a chance to pass on my knowledge to him. He refuses and often complies only after yelling and screaming and slamming everything around. It is not uncommon for us to have screaming matches filled with profanities the entire weekend that he is here.
All the while I am slowly dying on the inside. Pleading with God to step in to guide us to convict us to forgive us. It is unending the anger and angst and hurtful words. And then there is the racial nonsense that his dad was kind enough to drill into his head. The down talking of people with special needs. The refusal to acknowledge his little brother who has taken years to speak, instead yelling that he is a freak that needs to learn how to talk.
He tells me he drinks alcohol, I do not know if this is true, he has claimed abuse from family at his dad's house, I have no way to substantiate this. He says he doesn't have cooked meals. When I talk to his dad it is all sunshine and rainbows. Lie after lie. I know he hates me too. I know he hates my husband. I feel as if I am trapped in hell and there is no way out.
I envision fun filled weekends with laughter and good food. I get strife and racist slurs, anger, and hurt and profanity. There are no hugs and only an "I love you mom" after much resentment. I ask only for your prayers, and lots of them.
September 10 2016
Gone is my outgoing bubbly little boy. The little boy with shiny blonde hair that talked incessantly and drove me batty all while being the center of my universe. We had a lot of bad days. They started when he was born and continued right up until the day he was moved to his Dad's house. That was a tragedy all in itself. One that took months to recover from. That is where the first shaking up of my faith started.
My son doesn't feel like he fits. He yells at me that he doesn't belong. I yell back. When he comes it is constant turmoil. There is a lot of crying as he picks on the younger brother and sister. Pillows thrown into their faces, blankets thrown over them, toys put up high out of reach. Angry words telling them to move or they are stupid or ignorant.
I hear him say he hates this or that or this person or that person. I am lost. I do not know how to help him or even if he would let me. I did this. I let him go, and let him down and broke his little boy heart. I left him to follow a husband and raise two more small kids. I often live too far away. It is hard to talk to him on the phone, because his life and my life are so drastically different.
Routines that are necessary for my youngest son are the undoing of our visits with my oldest son. The quiet that I crave after a long day is gone. Trying so hard to please this stranger that comes to visit me.
I know he hates me. I know he resents me. I know his dad tries to poison his mind against me every day. I also know it is working. According to his dad, I am a recovered drug addict, was once a prostitute, I hate him, my new husband hates him, I love the younger kids more, and it goes on and on.
When my son tells me he wants to leave because I won't let him drink a gallon of milk in one setting I cringe and say lets go. He won't go, but I still offer. He hates how I try to keep him from binge eating which results in him being violently sick the rest of the night. He doesn't like it that I won't watch gore filled movies and that I monitor his video games that he brings. My rules are the worst. I am the enemy. Everything I do or say to him is wrong, except my cooking, I can do that very well for him.
I try to include him in the meal preparation. Its a good time to bond and a chance to pass on my knowledge to him. He refuses and often complies only after yelling and screaming and slamming everything around. It is not uncommon for us to have screaming matches filled with profanities the entire weekend that he is here.
All the while I am slowly dying on the inside. Pleading with God to step in to guide us to convict us to forgive us. It is unending the anger and angst and hurtful words. And then there is the racial nonsense that his dad was kind enough to drill into his head. The down talking of people with special needs. The refusal to acknowledge his little brother who has taken years to speak, instead yelling that he is a freak that needs to learn how to talk.
He tells me he drinks alcohol, I do not know if this is true, he has claimed abuse from family at his dad's house, I have no way to substantiate this. He says he doesn't have cooked meals. When I talk to his dad it is all sunshine and rainbows. Lie after lie. I know he hates me too. I know he hates my husband. I feel as if I am trapped in hell and there is no way out.
I envision fun filled weekends with laughter and good food. I get strife and racist slurs, anger, and hurt and profanity. There are no hugs and only an "I love you mom" after much resentment. I ask only for your prayers, and lots of them.
September 10 2016
Tuesday, September 6, 2016
Chaos Came for a Visit
When Friday begins with a Nit scare and chaotic washing of all things cloth begins, how can you expect a weekend to be anything but chaotic?
With three very different personalities on three kids. You cannot expect to have complete harmony with teenage boy angst and hormones, almost four toddler little girl emotions and a child who moves to his own drum balanced by routine and quiet.
I struggle with balancing the emotions, as my own go from normal to wildly out of control. A late night on Friday set the tone for exhaustion for the remainder of the weekend. There were tears and laughter. Throwing things, pranks, and dropped food. Toys everywhere and blankets not quite back into place.
My oldest and youngest are my biggest eaters and they argue over who gets the last slice of pizza, among other things. My sweet teenage boy isn't used to having competition on who gets to eat the leftovers and he gets very frustrated when his tiny sister wants a share.
I cooked three individual breakfast dishes on Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. My Dad saying that I could now interview for a job at Waffle House. This because I was balancing fried eggs and bacon while making French Toast. Plating it and pouring the drinks. The last dish cooked and served was mine. On Sunday as I am finally cooking my food and hungrily eyeing the bacon, my Dad walks over and takes the last few slices and leaves a crumb. This he says if for the dog. WTF?? I then ask him if he means for me since I have had none. I get a slice of bacon, the dog received none! I enjoy making each person the food they crave for breakfast. It is my only on demand meal that I will cook and serve. My sister glares at me every time I say cooking for others makes my heart happy, but it really does.
Cookies were a semi flop, but at least they were there for the sleepover. This sleepover was impromptu and consisted of my two boys my daughter and my niece. We had a friend over with her two boys for a bit. There was plenty of loud karaoke and thrown toys and freshly cut grass. It was loud and fun. The kids loved the pizza and cookies.
This night would not be complete without my sister and I getting into an argument in front of the kids with thrown profanity in a minivan with the windows down. Wound up tight we both are and together we are like dynamite. There were tears from the kids and regrets from us, but like big people we worked it out and let the night proceed. A stupid movie and then again a late bedtime.
After only being asleep an hour or so, my oldest son whom I let sleep on my bedroom floor wakes up and stumbles quickly down the hallway to the bathroom Violent retching commences for many minutes as the contents of his belly flow into the toilet. He does this the rest of the night. My heart breaks for him. I know I must take him home a day early. I prepare him a little care package bag and return him to his Dad. Before leaving our house I cuddled him closely knowing all the while that I will most likely be the next stomach flu victim. It is not often I get cuddles from him, so it will be worth it in the end.
A fun day with a void where my oldest should have been and then it was over.
Today was no school for the kiddos and we went to the gym, two errands and a creepy guy asked to buy me coffee. I seriously need to quit going places in my workout clothes. For some reason this attire seems to invite advances or noxious stares from creeps.
I cooked a big lunch, supper will be small and cleaned one room of the house before crashing for two hours upon the couch.
Such a blessing to have had so much chaos in my house. It won't be long before I will be too far away from those that truly matter to me.
God Bless you All
September 6 2016
With three very different personalities on three kids. You cannot expect to have complete harmony with teenage boy angst and hormones, almost four toddler little girl emotions and a child who moves to his own drum balanced by routine and quiet.
I struggle with balancing the emotions, as my own go from normal to wildly out of control. A late night on Friday set the tone for exhaustion for the remainder of the weekend. There were tears and laughter. Throwing things, pranks, and dropped food. Toys everywhere and blankets not quite back into place.
My oldest and youngest are my biggest eaters and they argue over who gets the last slice of pizza, among other things. My sweet teenage boy isn't used to having competition on who gets to eat the leftovers and he gets very frustrated when his tiny sister wants a share.
I cooked three individual breakfast dishes on Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. My Dad saying that I could now interview for a job at Waffle House. This because I was balancing fried eggs and bacon while making French Toast. Plating it and pouring the drinks. The last dish cooked and served was mine. On Sunday as I am finally cooking my food and hungrily eyeing the bacon, my Dad walks over and takes the last few slices and leaves a crumb. This he says if for the dog. WTF?? I then ask him if he means for me since I have had none. I get a slice of bacon, the dog received none! I enjoy making each person the food they crave for breakfast. It is my only on demand meal that I will cook and serve. My sister glares at me every time I say cooking for others makes my heart happy, but it really does.
Cookies were a semi flop, but at least they were there for the sleepover. This sleepover was impromptu and consisted of my two boys my daughter and my niece. We had a friend over with her two boys for a bit. There was plenty of loud karaoke and thrown toys and freshly cut grass. It was loud and fun. The kids loved the pizza and cookies.
This night would not be complete without my sister and I getting into an argument in front of the kids with thrown profanity in a minivan with the windows down. Wound up tight we both are and together we are like dynamite. There were tears from the kids and regrets from us, but like big people we worked it out and let the night proceed. A stupid movie and then again a late bedtime.
After only being asleep an hour or so, my oldest son whom I let sleep on my bedroom floor wakes up and stumbles quickly down the hallway to the bathroom Violent retching commences for many minutes as the contents of his belly flow into the toilet. He does this the rest of the night. My heart breaks for him. I know I must take him home a day early. I prepare him a little care package bag and return him to his Dad. Before leaving our house I cuddled him closely knowing all the while that I will most likely be the next stomach flu victim. It is not often I get cuddles from him, so it will be worth it in the end.
A fun day with a void where my oldest should have been and then it was over.
Today was no school for the kiddos and we went to the gym, two errands and a creepy guy asked to buy me coffee. I seriously need to quit going places in my workout clothes. For some reason this attire seems to invite advances or noxious stares from creeps.
I cooked a big lunch, supper will be small and cleaned one room of the house before crashing for two hours upon the couch.
Such a blessing to have had so much chaos in my house. It won't be long before I will be too far away from those that truly matter to me.
God Bless you All
September 6 2016
Saturday, September 3, 2016
The Nit Experience
Recovering from a cold, excited that a R.I.P.P.E.D. class was completed despite congestion issues. A beautiful sunny day promising to be cooler. Errands begun when the dreaded call came in.
The call from the school we all dread where in that moment you are confused, angry, disgusted, and panicked.
My child was being sent home with a nit in his hair. The nurse assured me it wasn't too big of a deal, but precautions must be taken immediately and he must come home. Okay, I can do that, right? By the time I made the twenty minute drive I had already made two other phone calls of warning to those who had been in contact with us. A battle plan was forming along with even more panic.
I arrive at the school and the nurse explains that this little problematic nit hasn't hatched and that there are only two. Wow! She seems so optimistic, so much more positive than I think anyone should feel at this news. I look around us and see a lot of frazzled staff members and think to myself that this is a temporary thing that shall pass, but when? The kind nurse checks my daughter and I and we are clear! The optimism in the nurse's voice rises a notch at this revelation.
In my mind I am thinking how my afternoon of quietly napping is ruined. That now I must run these two kids to the store immediately and all semblance of normalcy is over for us, but for how long? My poor little son is distressed over having bugs in his hair and when can we get medicine? Along with this is the questions "Why can't I play Pokémon while we are out?" "When can I play with my tablet?" All the while on the inside I am freaking out!
I have now called and messaged one good friend who can talk anyone down from a state of panic, and one essential oil friend. The plans are forming. I begin to relay said plans to the troops, I mean kids.
Once at the store I realize that the Friday before Labor Day is not a great afternoon in this smallish town to attempt an incognito trip for the remedy. Before I have passed beyond the bakery and their free cookies, I have already been spotted by an old friend. My son stands patiently by but I can see his agitation rising. I know that the clock is ticking. My oldest son is coming, I am starving, it is time for the kids to eat as well, and then there is this mess.
A few steps later as I am frantically trying to grab a few groceries on the way to the other side of the store, I am once again stopped and we chit chat for just a second. I see my third friend just after snatching sour cream, milk, and eggs from a shelf. And that is when my son states clearly, "Ms. K, I have bugs in my hair and we are going to get medicine for my hair in order to kill the bugs in my hair." Now if you have ever been around a child with hearing loss, you know this wasn't stated quietly, add to the fact he is very likely a Sensory Processing Disorder child, well you get where I am going. Fun times!
We finally made it through the entire store, and even having to ask the Sales Lady where to find the stuff, then make a choice, it wasn't too overwhelming. The Cashier was chatty, and explained that she had seen numerous parents purchasing this same product throughout the day. Well, isn't that nice to know? So in a cataclysmic way, I begin thinking maybe I should just not go anywhere with the kids for days on end since this could be a wide spread issue.
Once home I begin barking orders and the kids are complying through tears as favorite stuffed animals and blankets are the first for the hot water bath. Then I begin applying treatment to the kids. I have one terrified and crying hysterically as I wash out the stuff from his hair over the sink. Another who is excited and laughing and squealing at this odd procedure. Timer set, hot dogs put on the stove top, more bedding, blankets, and pillows piled onto the floor in the kitchen. More crying and squealing. Our little Chihuahua sits quietly on the couch observing the madness, almost gloating that the kids are getting a bath in the sink instead of him.
Ten minutes can be a long, long time.
Heads rinsed, a pile of towels and washcloths in the kitchen floor. The dreaded spray and combing begins as kids try to eat hot dogs on a bun with ketchup. I kid you not, this is the real deal.
Somehow in all of this madness, my Dad and Sister have stopped by and my oldest son has arrived. My Sister jumped in and began helping me give my daughter a bath while I checked my son one more time after his bath. Dryer is loaded and washer is loaded. The non-stop sound of laundry being done is in full force.
Thankfully my Dad offered to take my oldest son out on the town for a little while. At first I was sad and annoyed because I was still thinking he could start mowing the grass, but then I consented. Shortly after they left, I realized that I needed to eat. I found a boring show on the television ate a tiny snack and crashed on the couch for two hours. Upon waking I realized the two kids at home would need to eat, and I called in another favor to my Dad. So thankful for him. He brought cheeseburgers.
By this point, I have washed and dried all stuffed animals, all of my daughters bedding washed, now in the dryer, extra blankets, towels and some of my son's bedding are in the washer. It is now time to tackle the yard.
This was an experience in itself. My son said he could do this easily but the minutes ticked off as the mower is started and stopped and in between he is talking about what? I have no idea. Through my mounting exhaustion and annoyance I have hit a point of just moving. Somehow in the melee of getting cars moved around from the driveway to the road my son accidentally backed into my older car, sending it rolling a few feet down the hill. Lucky for us all, no damage. God is Good! He is always with you even in your darkest hour.
It was heartbreaking to watch my son breakdown in tears overwhelmed by the moment and the accident. All the what ifs came flooding in. My Dad and I telling him every dumb thing we have ever done behind the wheel. He is so shaken up he can't even finish mowing the grass. And now this morning it is a haphazard mess of half cut grass beckoning to me from beyond the window. Believe me, it can wait for now.
By ten o'clock I have two of the three beds put back together, all the laundry that was washed before the madness is also put away, and my bedding is finally in the washer with more towels. I have finally taken my after the gym shower and I am nibbling on apples with peanut butter. A movie with my son and my last blanket comes out of the washer at 1 a.m.
The madness is over. I had made a call to my mom earlier in the day to make sure I was doing everything right. It was a chore for sure getting pillows dried while other stuff washed. It was difficult trying to maintain a sense of calm while my son was crying hysterically. But I had gotten down on the floor looking him in the eyes and explaining that we are in this together. And getting back up was so difficult because my knees were crying out in pain and I grimaced and struggled up and he gave me a big hug. It was okay. I had even called one of my Aunts that works in a daycare. After summing up the situation for her, she assured me I should be okay. Today my son's head will be shaved, if there is any doubt that will most likely take care of the issue.
Just remember that God will bring you through it all. Even the crazy over emotional disgusting stuff. God is there for you.
Have a blessed day
September 3 2016
The call from the school we all dread where in that moment you are confused, angry, disgusted, and panicked.
My child was being sent home with a nit in his hair. The nurse assured me it wasn't too big of a deal, but precautions must be taken immediately and he must come home. Okay, I can do that, right? By the time I made the twenty minute drive I had already made two other phone calls of warning to those who had been in contact with us. A battle plan was forming along with even more panic.
I arrive at the school and the nurse explains that this little problematic nit hasn't hatched and that there are only two. Wow! She seems so optimistic, so much more positive than I think anyone should feel at this news. I look around us and see a lot of frazzled staff members and think to myself that this is a temporary thing that shall pass, but when? The kind nurse checks my daughter and I and we are clear! The optimism in the nurse's voice rises a notch at this revelation.
In my mind I am thinking how my afternoon of quietly napping is ruined. That now I must run these two kids to the store immediately and all semblance of normalcy is over for us, but for how long? My poor little son is distressed over having bugs in his hair and when can we get medicine? Along with this is the questions "Why can't I play Pokémon while we are out?" "When can I play with my tablet?" All the while on the inside I am freaking out!
I have now called and messaged one good friend who can talk anyone down from a state of panic, and one essential oil friend. The plans are forming. I begin to relay said plans to the troops, I mean kids.
Once at the store I realize that the Friday before Labor Day is not a great afternoon in this smallish town to attempt an incognito trip for the remedy. Before I have passed beyond the bakery and their free cookies, I have already been spotted by an old friend. My son stands patiently by but I can see his agitation rising. I know that the clock is ticking. My oldest son is coming, I am starving, it is time for the kids to eat as well, and then there is this mess.
A few steps later as I am frantically trying to grab a few groceries on the way to the other side of the store, I am once again stopped and we chit chat for just a second. I see my third friend just after snatching sour cream, milk, and eggs from a shelf. And that is when my son states clearly, "Ms. K, I have bugs in my hair and we are going to get medicine for my hair in order to kill the bugs in my hair." Now if you have ever been around a child with hearing loss, you know this wasn't stated quietly, add to the fact he is very likely a Sensory Processing Disorder child, well you get where I am going. Fun times!
We finally made it through the entire store, and even having to ask the Sales Lady where to find the stuff, then make a choice, it wasn't too overwhelming. The Cashier was chatty, and explained that she had seen numerous parents purchasing this same product throughout the day. Well, isn't that nice to know? So in a cataclysmic way, I begin thinking maybe I should just not go anywhere with the kids for days on end since this could be a wide spread issue.
Once home I begin barking orders and the kids are complying through tears as favorite stuffed animals and blankets are the first for the hot water bath. Then I begin applying treatment to the kids. I have one terrified and crying hysterically as I wash out the stuff from his hair over the sink. Another who is excited and laughing and squealing at this odd procedure. Timer set, hot dogs put on the stove top, more bedding, blankets, and pillows piled onto the floor in the kitchen. More crying and squealing. Our little Chihuahua sits quietly on the couch observing the madness, almost gloating that the kids are getting a bath in the sink instead of him.
Ten minutes can be a long, long time.
Heads rinsed, a pile of towels and washcloths in the kitchen floor. The dreaded spray and combing begins as kids try to eat hot dogs on a bun with ketchup. I kid you not, this is the real deal.
Somehow in all of this madness, my Dad and Sister have stopped by and my oldest son has arrived. My Sister jumped in and began helping me give my daughter a bath while I checked my son one more time after his bath. Dryer is loaded and washer is loaded. The non-stop sound of laundry being done is in full force.
Thankfully my Dad offered to take my oldest son out on the town for a little while. At first I was sad and annoyed because I was still thinking he could start mowing the grass, but then I consented. Shortly after they left, I realized that I needed to eat. I found a boring show on the television ate a tiny snack and crashed on the couch for two hours. Upon waking I realized the two kids at home would need to eat, and I called in another favor to my Dad. So thankful for him. He brought cheeseburgers.
By this point, I have washed and dried all stuffed animals, all of my daughters bedding washed, now in the dryer, extra blankets, towels and some of my son's bedding are in the washer. It is now time to tackle the yard.
This was an experience in itself. My son said he could do this easily but the minutes ticked off as the mower is started and stopped and in between he is talking about what? I have no idea. Through my mounting exhaustion and annoyance I have hit a point of just moving. Somehow in the melee of getting cars moved around from the driveway to the road my son accidentally backed into my older car, sending it rolling a few feet down the hill. Lucky for us all, no damage. God is Good! He is always with you even in your darkest hour.
It was heartbreaking to watch my son breakdown in tears overwhelmed by the moment and the accident. All the what ifs came flooding in. My Dad and I telling him every dumb thing we have ever done behind the wheel. He is so shaken up he can't even finish mowing the grass. And now this morning it is a haphazard mess of half cut grass beckoning to me from beyond the window. Believe me, it can wait for now.
By ten o'clock I have two of the three beds put back together, all the laundry that was washed before the madness is also put away, and my bedding is finally in the washer with more towels. I have finally taken my after the gym shower and I am nibbling on apples with peanut butter. A movie with my son and my last blanket comes out of the washer at 1 a.m.
The madness is over. I had made a call to my mom earlier in the day to make sure I was doing everything right. It was a chore for sure getting pillows dried while other stuff washed. It was difficult trying to maintain a sense of calm while my son was crying hysterically. But I had gotten down on the floor looking him in the eyes and explaining that we are in this together. And getting back up was so difficult because my knees were crying out in pain and I grimaced and struggled up and he gave me a big hug. It was okay. I had even called one of my Aunts that works in a daycare. After summing up the situation for her, she assured me I should be okay. Today my son's head will be shaved, if there is any doubt that will most likely take care of the issue.
Just remember that God will bring you through it all. Even the crazy over emotional disgusting stuff. God is there for you.
Have a blessed day
September 3 2016
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