Leaving Michigan

 In what seemed like an altered reality, the time to leave Michigan had come.

Sad

  Not eager. 

The life we created there was good for me, and stressful for the husband. The kids and I loved our homeschool community. 

The apartment gave me warmth and security

  the scenery outside of my windows was calming to my troubled soul

All good things must come to an end

 and so they did. 

I prepped the apartment, sorting things according to must have, not necessary at the moment, and need upon arrival.

On the day of the packing team's arriving, reality began to set in. They were kind, they were efficient. They were accommodating. Yet, at the last minute, we decided what we were keeping needed to be slimmed down. And so we went through everything and set more aside for the Packers. 

It was not enough. 

By the time of our departure, we were down to only our minivan. Two chihuahuas, one cat, two kids, and ourselves must fit into that van. 

Just over a week before we were to roll out, the van broke down on the side of the interstate. In the early evening, with the cold weather drawing closer to where we were stranded. All looked bleak, yet we chose to be positive. Family came through. Human Kindness also came into play. Just over one thousand dollars later, the van was repaired and once again we could breathe. 

They came to load our belongings on a cold December Monday, just two days from Christmas. Once they left we were faced with reality, there was too much stuff. No matter how we packed it, there was too much. 

Christmas was just a day. We deep-cleaned that entire week. We fell into exhausted sleep at the end of each day. The night before rolling out, reality smacked us hard. We needed a rental car. The reservation was made, and we felt no relief. 

The day dawned a beautiful day, with a bright sun. We ate breakfast at a pancake house my daughter had been begging to eat at. I barely touched my plate, as it looked like a diabetic's nightmare. While sitting in this crowded restaurant the rental company calls with bad news. There were no rental cars for anyone. They canceled our reservation and told us to call another location. I immediately did this and set up a new reservation, but not a mere thirty minutes later, we were again contacted that there was no rental car. 

Stress

We were getting the last of our belongings out of the apartment, and into the garage. This included pets and kids. We were doing the final vacuuming and cleaning the bathroom. All this while on hold with the last location that might have a car for us. 

The sun was streaming in bright through the blinds, reflecting on the walls and carpet. The warmth calming.

Finally, someone answered, and they were able to assist us with how to obtain a rental. It worked. By this time it is nearly 11 a.m. We have been awake and on the move since 6am. We settle kids and pets into the garage to sit on bags of blankets until we return with a rental car. Picking up the car was a smooth process. 

Back to our apartment to load the rental, and begin our journey south. 

The minivan is packed full from the back of the front seats to the hatch. My husband, daughter, and one dog will ride up front. The rental is also full, with one dog, and the cat in their carriers in the back seat. I have one little spot to see out the rear passenger door and out the back window. 

It is now just after one thirty in the afternoon. We headed to I-94 and waved to Battle Creek as we traveled east. 

Bittersweet

Our time there was over 

New adventures await us

Yet, it was the longest we had lived in one place since my husband joined the Army.  

We drove until my daughter could go no longer without eating. We had only eaten one meal that day. A quick stop for dinner and gas in the vehicles, and then back on the road. 

Once we had gotten onto I-69 South, we had rain. So much rain. 

Our decided-upon route would be I-69 South all the way to Kentucky. 

Indiana was a long, rainy stretch.

We knew that my night driving skills were far from great, but we had no choice, we needed to push on. The goal is to see my family in my hometown of Tennessee, hopefully that night. 

Indianapolis was a hell all its own. 

I could not see well

There was a lot of traffic

The GPS would not work, and this left my son and I to attempt to read road signs with poor visibility while repeatedly trying the GPS. My husband called us to ask if we knew where we were going because he also did not have GPS. We decided to wing it. 

The GPS began to work as we wound our way around Indianapolis on I-465, at which point my son messaged my husband. He replied that we should lead the way. 

Another challenge

My car was not fully loaded and could cruise at a much faster speed. I had already been struggling to stay behind him, losing him a time or two. The rain was just heavy enough that we could not see the van unless a light reflected on one of the window decals.

Somehow, we made it out of Indianapolis. My son never lost faith in me as I repeatedly asked him if the red lights on the cars ahead of us were a steady red or a blinking red like brake lights. I hysterically laughed at the situation and told him that one day he would understand just how dangerous the situation could be. 

A higher power brought us through. 

We continued to drive 

The hours ticked by 

The cat began to meow as his anxiety meds wore off.

We ate Christmas candy made by one of my Aunts. 

We jammed to all of our favorite songs, at least until a few of my son's song choices nearly made me nod off. 

Kentucky loomed ahead and we began to discuss where we should stop

Hotels in my hometown were higher than the military rate my husband was authorized to spend on a hotel per night. 

We drove some more

Rolling Through Kentucky coming in north of Clarksville and Fort Campbell. 

My husband decided that we should try the hotel on Fort Campbell, it is in our price range! The downside was that each pet would be $75 to stay the night. 

My emotions became a whirlwind as I would have to let my oldest son know that I would not make it there that night to see him. This made me feel inadequate as his mom, and that in turn made me irritable. I became overwhelmed and overstimulated. I refused to eat anything after we finally made it to the hotel. I became argumentive with my husband who was not having it. The kids were ready to fall into a mindless stupor looking at their electronic devices. Somehow, we made it through the night. 

By morning, I had worked myself up into a fit of anxiety and the perceived disappointment I had caused my oldest son. Upon calling him, I let loose a torrent of over-stressed words overwhelming him and that ended the conversation. I sat alone in the dining room eating a cinnamon roll and drinking coffee. I sat there feeling overwhelmed and exhausted. 

Somehow we muscled through the exhaustion and beyond my irritability and put on a good face in order to have a good day.

We made it to my hometown by early afternoon and spent a fun day hanging out with my dad and his girlfriend. Dinner and gift exchange with my family was full of conversation and laughs even though the food was not the best. 

It was still raining

Pouring down rain as we left the restaurant and headed out into the night

We found a decent hotel for us to crash in. The pets were staying with my dad. My daughter enjoyed the hotel pool that evening and again early the next morning. 

Breakfast with my dad and son 

Back to the hotel 

Get everyone and everything packed back into the vehicles, get gas, and then breakfast for my family, though by this time breakfast was long over. 

Then off to pick up pets, say Our see ya laters and hit the road

In the rain

Rain until just after crossing into Alabama.

Stopping for a quick snack just 2 hours north of our new town

Back into the vehicles, Cat meowing 

Day 2 with the cat, and he was quite vocal for almost the entire 3 and half hour drive

Our arrival at our new house was nothing special. 

All pets and both vehicles emptied, and off to find a hotel and food

Success on both, though I nearly had a breakdown from the sheer overwhelming last three days and the fact that the chosen restaurant was authentic tacos and no chips to munch on as we waited for our food.

Then dropping into a deep sleep and not waking up until well after breakfast in most restaurants was over. 

This was our trip, which for me started off as a shitshow, but ended up in relief that we made it. 

We made it with everyone and everything intact

January 5, 2025

Crying in the Dark

 I awoke on that Wednesday morning to the news that hope had been halted for the moment

What nightmares are made of, had come to pass much to the astonishment of many

The world appeared to darken as they awakened 

From promising blue to mourning black, wives, mothers, sisters, and daughters emerged from their illusion of a country united

Sitting in the dark, I let the emotions roll over me, this was my one moment to fully grieve before I faced the day as a wife and mother conflicted 

Fear

So much Fear

Hateful rhetoric ringing in my ears

the man I love, our children, how could this happen? 

Didn't "Loving" promise us something better? Wasn't that certificate worth anything anymore? How has it come to a question of what will come to pass? Are we safe? 

I saw and heard the shock of the news as the kids and husband arose to a dark day. Fears were expressed, and consulation was issued. Together, we will stand as a family. Together, we will face all that is thrown our way. 

Joy

We choose Joy

We choose to spread Joy 

and hope

Hope  for a brighter day,

Hope that it won't be that bad.

Talking to other women, sharing their disbelief, promising to stand united and spread the joy

Only that day would I allow myself to cry

to rage against the outcome

to grieve for what might have been

On Thursday, I rise from the ashes

On Thursday, I will carry on and share the joy

Joy and hope

Olivia J. Stuart

November 07, 2024

in response to the election outcome. 

Goddess Emerging

 Like a Goddess she moved between the memories of those she appeared to. For everyone who saw her, would see something different. Wild golden hair and a mischievous smile. A curvaceous body they longed to touch. Others would see her as a social butterfly, organized and ready to take on the PTO. A shape shifter who mastered the identities of many to please those around her. 

Deep inside of her you would see her beating heart, more often than not, described as ice cold. Yet, it beat out the tune that she gracefully danced to. To fit in was once the ultimate goal, but rule breaking was her gift. A slight shift away from what was expected making the choice her own. Her style changes, but she remains true to herself. 

Emotions rule her as they swirl in turmoil. Happy to angry, sad to forgetful, and back again. Music being her constant. For those who wish to know her mood, or the message she wants to send, listen. Listen closely to the music she plays or the songs she quotes. A playlist spanning the ages and genres. 

But there is a story to be told. One of conflicting identities and warring emotions. It begins like this......

On the brink of twenty-one a broken woman stepped forward from a shattered dream. She brought with her a deep sadness. A longing to find the why of it all. The desire to be free and to never go back into that space. She drove a teal green Ford Ranger around her small town. A flash of teal could be seen streaking down backroads, through popular hangout spots and into the darkened cemeteries. She belonged to no one, and no one could claim her. 

Lovers came and went. Her laughter, her smile, her elusiveness was all like a wild yellow rose. Briefly, one made her pause, but too soon he was taken from this world. Dark, haunting music became her solace as she moved about. 

Darkness overcame her as a new life joined hers. Anger at herself, at the betrayal, at the unknown. The darkness formed a tunnel that took her down into the depths of a personal hell. One with a child that she didn't know how to care for, a mother who was there, but not there to assist, a father full of judgement. Alone, lost, and needing the love of someone she followed an overgrown path. It would lead her to temptation, to alcohol, to a deeper loneliness. She learned how to manipulate those who were over eager. To spend their money and time on her, and never get a taste of her sweet fruit. There were others she would trick into believing she really cared, while taking only momentary pleasure. Once they slept, she would creep out into the night and never look back. One who was just a wise as she, nearly broke her. Leaving her at rock bottom, broken and shamed. 

She rose from the ashes. She came back more a vixen than before. It was during this time she claimed her spirit animal. What is this animal you ask? Why it is a male lion. The realization came after reading a popular book about the dating antics of men. She knew that her dating style was that of a man. Entice them, promise them, bring them to the point of release, and then right when they are ready to swear forever to you, drop them. Walk away and feel nothing. She knew how to properly execute a one-night stand. 

In a smoky bar room, with karaoke, or thrumming dance music, and occasionally haunting country melodies, she ruled. She showed up in a blue dress with go go boots, or blue jeans and a t-shirt, solid pink or black track suit. She danced like no one was watching. Twisting her body around so that all the men drooled. Some were disgusted and they were quick to tell her so.  She was often surrounded by older men with fat wallets and a drunken desire to have all the pretty young girls. She didn't have to provide much more than a kiss on the cheek or a dance. But on the inside, she was tired. She was lonely. She was ever so sad, and she wanted so much more. 

Her favorite lovers were mysterious, and they didn't come around much. They asked nothing from her and expected nothing in return. She could give it to them dirty, she could do a late-night booty call, and then she could walk away. It was really that simple. 

But she stepped away from the limelight. She gave herself over to God and those Godly type things. She needed to be reborn. To have her sin burned from her soul. She wanted a new identity and so with a misfortunate circumstance that opportunity was given to her. 

Enter a more chaste version of the same woman. One who has chosen to crush the once redneck girl wanna be, the fiery vixen from the bars, the girl in the green ranger. All of it packed away into a chest deep in the back of her memories. She tried to stop swearing, she gave up alcohol, she stopped trying to find love. She devoted herself to this new beginning. The creation of a good mom, a steady job, the owner of home. 

Death on her doorstep brought it all about. Lying alone in a cold hospital room with the nauseous smell from the hospital generator below her window, it all came into focus. Her recent romantic notions were beginning to bloom. An unlikely match that would turn her world upside down. 

Faith was the center in the beginning of the new romance. But when a decision she had to make would remove one of her children from her nest, she lost her mind. To say she was jaded was putting it lightly. The day word came of the pending decision, she screamed like death was at the door. She sank to the floor as tears flowed freely and violently. Her Dad, and a church friend came to sit with her as she railed against the odds and screamed and sobbed. The pain she felt numbing all thoughts but those of life away from that child. Even after analyzing, and talking to legal aid, she made the best decision she could. This is not one that she has ever forgiven herself for. There is the before and the after. 

The following months were grim. An attempt to settle into a new life, in a new place. A place so strange to her. A new life blossoming inside of her, yet the desire to care was hard to achieve. Harsh words from her husband brought her up from the bottom of the sand pit, but they did not erase the deep anger. From here on out, her faith would be hard to maintain, something she fought to keep.

When next we check in, she has lost her grandmother and not one, but two friends. A betrayal that cut to the core, furthering her loss of faith. When all was said and done, she had cleaned up her social media, cut ties with many, and started a blog. The scars from this falling out remain, though faded over time. The reason she won't give all when making friends are based in this betrayal. The undercurrent of anxiety and lack of confidence most likely stem from this very moment. 

Far too many times, she was told how she wasn't a second look girl, she didn't try hard enough to make a man want her, let alone stay with her. Accused of not wearing enough make-up, shamed because her hair was so long, told her clothes were not expensive enough. She has waded through all of these words for all of her life. To fit into the boxes, she must hide her true thoughts, her true moods, or feelings. Once her lack of diversity was obvious. Over time her understanding of those who are different blossomed. Acceptance became her mantra and she fully embraced BLM.

The part of her that held her passionate feelings was broken open. Her passion for immigration reform storming into the forefront. Her empathy and marital situation making this something she could throw all her energy behind. She will defend her family to the bitter end. Loving her multiethnic family beyond words. At odds with those who once mattered the most to her. Refusing to conceal her political views any longer. 

And as her 40's slowly passed, the inner rage became harder to conceal. The side of her that could be patient, refused to remain patient. And then an awakening when she was served with a court date for a restraining order. But ultimately, regret at unrestrained actions. But the lesson she learned was this "I will no longer be silenced!" 

Deep inside of this powerful being, one who can fit the mold of an acquiescent housewife who also happens to be a homeschool mom. The Co-Op activities her kids do which force her to rub elbows with people who drive cars covered in far-right propaganda.  The feeling of frustration as she watches them from a distance, knowing that should she shout out who she voted for, she would instantly become an outcast. Frustration that people refuse to say her Hispanic last name correctly, or even that of her children. The curt corrections and no nicknames, you must learn to say their names. 

But deeper than that the stirrings of that other identity. The one that balks at domestic duties. Fighting the urge to scream "NO, NO, NO!" The sheer mental exhaustion after a day of teaching. And in this chapter, she is the eager volunteer, the sweet military wife and mom from church, the stand-offish mom at the co-op. But to know her true feelings, you need to be the lucky ones who see her views shared on her social media. She now calls out those who say off color remarks, or racist comments, or any negative against those who are different. Choosing to stand behind a Pride Flag, a BLM Flag, and a Mexican Flag. 

And then one came along. But really that one was always there, just in the background. Their lives once strongly connected, remained parallel thought-out adulthood. Two strong women navigating the paths that life was laying before them. The conversations becoming deep and riddled with mystery. Where will this go? How will this end? 

She isn't ready to fully spread those golden wings. She isn't ready to embark on a new adventure outside of her current reality. Skirting the edges of the sea of unknown things, not even daring to get her feet wet. While deep inside she checks off the list of things she must daily do. 

Olivia J. Stuart

April 19 2022

The Loss of You

Long ago in a small-town pizza business I met you. Alone you sat enjoying the pizza you so loved and there I was with friends who were not long meant to be in my story. Embracing the mystery of you in that moment as teenage hormones were blossoming. Day in and Day out we sought each other out amidst the chaos of a small-town school that we longed to fly free from. The color black our calming flag to freely fly as others donned that awful blue, orange, and white. You saw me through the constant crushes on those too far out of my league or not worthy enough. I watched as teenage love began to flower all around you. While you were experiencing that euphoric happiness I was caught in a spider's web. One that promised all I dreamed of, only asking for my soul. I willingly handed over the best parts of me and watched as they were squashed. The self-confidence I claimed to have merely a cover for the self-loathing burning in my heart. Out into the world I went pretending to be an adult. You too began to live your life and heartache would find you, but from that you would rise. Our paths were parallel, but this spider I had to escape from. The escape came in the form of lies and deceit after sacred vows were exchanged. The ensuing darkness nearly consumed me. Alcohol becoming my saving grace. Down that bottle I jumped finding newer and more unhealthy distractions. You were there to pull me up for air. You were there to hold me when I needed to cry. Again, you found happiness in another and this time it took you to another state. The day you drove away left me broken and lost. Though I am sure I never fully relayed that to you in fear of hurting the one who had your full attention. The path forward was more of confusion. I was lost and struggling to find my identity. I wanted to be so many things, but no idea how to be any of them. Instead, I became what others longed for. Giving them each a piece of me and many times those pieces being tossed aside like garbage. When finally, I saw you, you made it perfectly clear. The truth right before my eyes. I was good at being fake. That fakeness took me through many years of vying for attention in all the wrong places and with all the wrong people. I had a child and you continued to be my support. Thankfully you talked me out of joining the military at a time when it was just a method of running away. Ever so gentle. I watched you grow into yourself. I watched you become the mastermind that you were meant to be. I stayed in my little pond; a lonely big fish too afraid to leave my tiny world. And then one day, I never left, my path had fully diverged from your path. We were separate beings leading separate lives. I am not sure if you ever thought of me. I thought of you many times. Through many big events in my life. A baby born, a wedding, a move, a baby born and so much more. The years ticked by, and I watched your social media. I saw how loved you were by so many; I saw your happiness. I was happy for you, curious about you. Yet never a word did I speak outside of the one question. "Will you go to the high school reunion?" Of course, I wouldn't be there that year. I lived too far away, I was a mom to two small children and a husband in the military. I don't know if you ever went. If it was the blast, you said it would be. Though I lived in the same state as you for a year, not once did I ever reach out. Though I lived mere minutes from your family, I never attempted to contact them. I stayed in my tiny little pond hiding from all that I once was, and all that you once meant to me. 

YOU ARE GONE

The air was knocked out of me that Tuesday evening. For the next week I walked through each day in a daze. My heart broken. My mind an evil entity telling me how terrible I was as friend. I didn't even make it back to the memorial. I now hope that wherever you are now, that you know. That somehow you know that I really did love you deeply, in a way that wasn't meant to claim you, but be beside of you. You were someone that I always thought would be there. Selfishly, I thought I could always seek you out whenever I would need to do so. If you are looking down on me, please watch over me and know I am looking forward to our paths crossing again somewhere in the universe or the sands of time. 

February 22, 2022

Dedicated to the memory of Isaac Lightburn. One of the few true friends that has ever known me for who I really am. 

Confessions of a Not So Ordinary Mom: Homeschool Beginnings Incomplete

 Here we are just four weeks into our new year of homeschooling. I have in place a much more relaxed curriculum based on each kids individual needs. It is working.....I think so anyway. We are still mostly isolated. Not sure of the world outside of our doors. 

New this time around is that we have joined a Virtual Partnership. What does this mean for us? It means that we get a variety of free classes offered to us for free. It means that we can have a small school like experience. The kids can spend time away from each other. I can work one on one with each kid. Now, I bet that you are wondering what classes they chose. 

For my son he is doing a class to Build Your Own Computer. It is a small computer and we have already completed the building portion of it. Thankfully his Dad could assist him with the assembly because I was completely lost. Then he is doing an Art Class, a Spanish Class, and of course a Bowling Class. Isn't that required for Homeschoolers? 

Now my daughter is doing an Art Class, a social studies class based on the American Girl Dolls, a swimming class, and of course Bowling. 

Week one of the virtual meetups went well. Two of my daughter's classes didn't meet this week, so it gave us a little breathing room on routine. I see where our weaknesses are are, I see how hard it will be to maintain a working routine. As for our own Science and History, I haven't been so great in this area. Here it is Hispanic Heritage Month, and I haven't shown them one video of any person yet. 

Now for the fun part. We went to a playdate to meet other kids in the Partnership. It went well. I mean we are in Michigan which is an odd place to be right now. It is like being in Tennessee, but at the same time as being in a more progressive place. So, I met some nice moms and quickly realized that us being vaccinated was going to be not the norm. I should have known this after the first Zoom meeting to ask questions about the upcoming courses and start dates. Forty-Five minutes in we had still only covered the why of the mask mandate. It apparently wasn't something many people could understand. Just for the record even though my son has the option, he will be wearing a mask. Anyway, at the playdate as I listen to a mom go on and on about her husband working in some kind of lab, I was thinking "Oh bet they are vaccinated" Nope. She explained that her entire family had Covid, not big deal at all, and therefore should be mostly immune and didn't need a vaccine. Okay. Your opinion. I quietly commented that three out of four of our family were vaccinated and that my youngest is on the waiting list for the vaccine. 

The First day of in person classes went pretty well. I met a mom. I liked said mom. I saw many kids throwing the playground pebbles to include throwing them down the slides. No moms in sight to correct this behavior. Naturally, I pulled my daughter aside to let her know that was not okay and she should not follow their example. I had wanted to do extra math work with her, but that playground was much too tempting, and I needed to make a phone call. 

The next day was a long day. My daughter had the first class bright and early in the morning. We got up way too early. I had lunches packed. I got everyone fed and out the door early.  A huge score! My daughter truly enjoyed her class, but it was during this time I realized I might be out of my league. 

Life on the waves of the sea

 Life can be so full of the crazy. Crazy can reel you in and make you believe that is your normal. 

As each day dawns you are never promised a single moment. Each moment on this earth is a gift, something to be cherished. How you handle this gift is how you will appreciate all that the gift brings into your life. 

So many moments are easy to waste. It is so easy to push it into the "in a minute" universe. Then you will show up on the shores of "Maybe tomorrow" and that will set your boat of "maybe some day out to sea." It is important to grasp the moments by the horns and to give the very best to those whom you love. 

Children like wildflowers grow at your feet. Cultivating them is the challenge. Their little voices ringing in the air like bells or some cases like screeching birds. Watching them transform from a weed into a gorgeous flower ready to grace the tables of the world. That is a moment of accomplishment. 

Often as I sit in the silence of my living room, I catch myself drifting away into a land of dreams. The sound of my kids carries throughout the house, lulling me into contentment. The warms of my little dogs comforting and bringing about lethargic notions of never moving from that spot. 

Productivity is not my strong point. It comes and goes, playing tag with procrastination and self doubt. Depression like a storm rolling across the plains often tries to swamp me. I push up from that space and surround myself with friends. Friends online as in person there are none. 

This new place is still foreign to me in so many ways. I feel the pull of all that could have been at times. I embrace all that is. Hoping that one day my warm childhood memories of the love I felt in this state, will be the same for my children. 

When my Dad came to visit, I felt fulfilled. I also felt the longing of being in Tennessee during the summer. A state I keep in my heart, but Know I most likely will never reside in again. I miss the summer storms and the quiet beside a pool with a book in hand. I miss the familiar streets and the loud neighboring cities. 

Here I see beautiful trees and lakes. City mixed with country side. I see angry drivers and grumpy shoppers. I hear my distinct southern drawl flowing forth and the odd stares received in turn. Summer heat is mixed with summer rain and not so hot days with cooler evenings. Where are the lightening bugs? 

My world has the potential for vastness but remains smaller. My anxiety is much higher here than any other place we have ever lived. Somedays being out on the roads I feel my body tensed for a collision. My eyes closed tight against the possibility. I long for the confidence of my youth. The ability to remain strong as I slowly become more afraid and anxiety strangles me. 

I am my kids first window to the world and I grasp tightly to their hands and pray mightily that I am doing a fair job. I pray that their education, which I alone have handled for nearly a year, is good. I miss my oldest son who prefers not to call. It makes me feel a huge loss and question my ability to mother him. I must have done a lot of things wrong. My husband met most of my family for the first time. Upon getting in the car and setting out for home, he asks my Dad how bad I really used to be. Everyone had told him numerous times that he was the best thing that had ever happened to me. So maybe that is  a clue in how far I have grown as an individual and a mom. 

Remember in all things to be kind. Spread kindness on the breezes of life. 

Mama, I am here

 My words to my mom since she moved to Alabama in 2007, were always "One day soon I will come visit you." While she was in Alabama and prior to my husband completing all of his Army training, I did go to Alabama every so many months. 

The visits were exhausting. They left me feeling defeated, confused, sometimes even a little angry. Always I would go with the intent to stay a week and return within 2 days. The constant television, literally 24 hours a day. The lack of a routine, my mom and grandmother would sleep all day and stay up all night. I would go first with just my oldest, but then after I remarried, I would have my infant in tow as well. I wanted to help her and my grandmother and would often be met with indifference or discouragement. The visiting pastor was a braggart, hard to deal with and clearly taking advantage of two senior citizens who really need his assistance. 

Always I wanted a relationship with my mom. Always I wanted her to love me. Always I wanted her approval. 

I knew I was never her favorite. I knew that she feared me, which I don't understand fully why, unless this stems from my wildly varying emotions. I often wondered if she just didn't like me, but tolerated me.

My insecurities to this day stem from the chaos of her verbal tirade of judgement, ridicule, and sometimes her sense of humor and laughter. 

We had good times. Oh, how I loved her laugh. It was always so fun when her mischievous side would come out. When the day was good, it was oh so good. I learned to hide my candy, and to never share it from her. I have now taught my daughter to do the same. Is this a point of pride?

She was an amazing grandmother to my oldest son. She truly loved that little boy. He adored her as well. The relationship that they had was beautiful. If it had not been for her, I most likely could not have gotten through my pregnancy and his first few years of life. The raw truth is that I wanted to die. 

I tried so hard to deny that situation. I did not want to admit to myself that I was going to have a baby. I drank heavy, I smoked heavy, I lived my crazy life hoping beyond hope that it would all magically disappear, but it did not. I cried a lot. I lamented my predicament to anyone who would listen. I could not see a blessing. I even let one of my supposed friends, who was a professed Wiccan, to "perform a ritual to end it all." Well, the reality was, it was a way to take advantage of me. To perform an act that I otherwise would not have done with him. I was in a dark place. A place where many cannot pull themselves out of. I nearly did not. 

When I was sixteen, I had made the same mistake. I was dating a guy who really didn't care about me and I didn't care about him. He wanted to do the deed all of the time. I thought that was how you kept a boyfriend, was to give up the goods. It ended in a pregnancy and his mother told me I was a slut. I guess in a way I was. My savior from that summer was my mother. I had been staying with my Dad while she was out of town with a friend. I was sick. I was depressed. I could not do anything without being sick. My first two pregnancies were like this. Sickness like waves. Sickness every time I moved. Puking, puking, and more puking. But when my mother returned, I told her the truth. It hurt. She yelled at me she called me a slut and I ran from the house to her friend's house. Her friend talked to her and to me. A decision was made and between the two of them I was ushered off to Atlanta to have an abortion at just over 10 weeks. To this day, I don't know if she ever told my Dad, I haven't. That is my shame to bear. 

There were many times when she would use it as fuel against me. She would tell other mothers that they should not let their daughters hang around me because I was a bad influence. Maybe she was ashamed of me, or maybe I had proved her prediction correct. When I was 12 and wanting to go skating with my friends, she always drove home the point that I was a slut. She kept that in the forefront of our relationship until I moved out with my first future ex husband. 

I struggle daily with my inner demons. I struggle to hold it all together. I judge myself harshly. I imagine that my mother judged herself harshly as well. All those strange diets and diet pills that eventually cause her liver to have issues. I listened to her complain because my father called her fat. And honestly, he did call her fat. His obsession with weight is another thing that has followed me through my life.  From my father I would hear things like "you can't wear black nail polish, lipstick, whatever because people will talk about you" Don't leave your truck at the bar because someone I work will see it and think it is me there" 

All my life, I have felt suppressed. I have felt like I had to fit into a box, that I have never been able to fit into. I have a part of my heart that beats wild. A part of me that likes to bend the rules and be mischievous. I want to be fun. I want to be see as fun. 

And now I am here. After being in El Paso and my mom in Alabama, where I didn't go visit her because my oldest son was in Tennessee. I know I didn't try hard enough to make her a priority. Then I am in Tennessee and she is in Michigan. I made it to Michigan one time to see her. I decided to not go the second time I was planning a trip. I felt pressure from my husband not to travel too much. I felt like my medical necessary trip for my middle son was the only trip I could make that summer. 

It took so much to call her. I had to think for days, build up my mind, that it was time to call. It took a lot to get to the point to just call her, let alone visit her. 

Yet all my life I wanted her to love me. 

Now I am in Michigan. I will live in Michigan for three years. I am not so far from where she last lived. When my husband and I drove through her tiny little town and the entire time I felt like the breath had left my body. I felt the urge to puke and to cry and to lash out at the world for a pain that won't leave me be. 

Now I walk next to the darkness that I imagine also tried to trap my mom. The darkness that tries to trap me. With suicide like a back up plan. And the irony is only one person in my entire life ever caught on to the fact that I live with suicide like a devil on my shoulder. My Junior English teacher read a poem I wrote on the back of a test about standing on the edge of a mountain  trying to decide if I should leap or not. She read that for what it was, a cry for  help. No one since that moment has ever answered my cries for help. 

When my oldest was three I was going through severe depression. I stayed inside of my truck with him. I drove around and around and around our town for hours on end. I did this because I was so deeply sad. I had put myself in a relationship with a narcist who only wanted to bring me down because I appeared too proud. And bring me down he did. It nearly destroyed me. I nearly lost everything because the pit opened and I fell into and I had no desire to crawl out. I begged my Dad to help me, and he told me I was fine. I tried to talk to my mom and she said "you only think of yourself" 

The next time I was that low, I was carrying another baby. My Dad took every opportunity to tell me how embarrassing it was that I was not married and here I am pregnant. He tried to send me away he tried to convince me to give baby away. I nearly did. And then I named baby a non family name and shit once again hit the fan. He called my son "grandson" until he was at least 5 or older. 

When my husband was on his first overseas tour, I begged and begged my Dad to drive me into Nashville to the mental hospital. I was exhausted. I was depressed. I had just lost a friend that had turned out to be a snake. I was overwhelmed with the health issues between my youngest two kids and having recently losing custody of my oldest son. I wanted to walk into that building and feel the cool air conditioning against my hot summer skin. I wanted to hear the deep silence. I wanted a place to sleep and to hide. But my Dad told me not to go. I guess he was right. It would have put my husband in a bad spot with the Army. Reality is, that someday, I should probably go to a place like that for the peace that I crave. 

And then I lost my mom. My mom is gone. The mom I wanted to please, to visit, to love, to have a relationship with. She is gone. Three years later I still feel the loss deeply. I feel like I didn't try hard enough. Three years later I am at a weird place in my life. I feel lost, but hopeful. I feel dejected. I feel like I am over whelmed. I know I am blessed to be where I am. I know I am blessed to have all that I have. But the sadness and the darkness surround me and threaten me and try to usher me out. 

I always wanted my mom to love me. And know my words "one day I will see her soon" are like a lifeline to madness. 

Confessions of a Not so Ordinary Mom: Here I am

 Let's start here, we survived the holidays, we survived a move, we survived all the variables that could have made it all go sideways. 

Homeschooling came to a stop the week of Thanksgiving. We were ready and eager to head to Tennessee to see our families before we moved North. This almost did not happen due to exposure to Covid the week before that week. We were tested and we quarantined until we were sure that we did not have it and our results came back. Our trip was shortened in order to keep all parties safe. It was a quick trip and I did not get to visit all my favorite hometown places. We had fun. The kids loved having and early Christmas, we loved good conversation, laughs and food. 

Home. 

That is when the crazy began to creep in on us. We were in an in between place. Pretty much everything that could be packed, was packed. I learned that my husband and I had entirely too much clothing and shoes. My inward panic of what I might have to leave behind ensued. It turned out to be justified panic. 

When go time arrived we woke up early, headed out to pick up our moving truck, a small snafu with the payment, but quickly worked itself out. Back to post to weigh the truck and get it loaded. My husband had this vision of not needing much help, because he was sure we did not have much. 

Let me tell you, his vision did not pan out. Thankfully we cooked taco meat in the crockpot while we loaded. I attempted to clean while loading happened, but in reality I spent much of the afternoon hauling stuff outside and putting in in piles. Our neighbors came over to help up load and even clean. They brought friends and then another neighbor joined us. 

It was a long day. It was still a fun day. I did not feel sad, more eager and panicked that we were not making the progress we had hoped to make. The reality is that I ended up parting with my favorite giant cube shelf, one book shelf broke, another was not stable enough to make the move. The play house my FIL had built for the kids also had to be left behind. My husband looked on and I know he felt the loss too as we had both assured each other that house and that shelf would make it on the truck. 

I cleaned late into the night, but it was not done. We still had stuff to load. We crammed as much as we could into the car we were towing. The next morning we woke up cooked a quick breakfast, pulled the last of the stuff outside into the yard. We had to sign out at 11. 

When 11 rolled around all my house plants, the dog kennel, and other items were still in the yard. I was finishing up mopping. The lady came in and commented that we looked rushed and on top of that the original damage report that we submitted at move in was no where in our file. I told my neighbor who was watching from her porch, that if it came down to it, I would pull everything out of the car to find our copy. It did not come to that thankfully. She tried her attitude. She even said cabinets that had been wiped down only hours earlier were dirty. I tried to reign in my crazy, and we got them wiped. She gave us a clear report and we were free of that house. 

We stood outside and finished cramming stuff into the truck, van, and car. That afternoon we grabbed fast food and went to a park. Later at the hotel, we got the kids a pizza. I headed back to our neighborhood to pick up dogfood for our dogs because ours was packed who knew where. Another neighbor had also baked cookies for us to take on the road. 

The drive up the following day was not so bad outside of the rain. It seemed as if every time we hit a big city it would rain harder. Michigan was cold. We arrived at our storage shed, grabbed fast food and started unloading in the cold. We did this until nearly 8pm. Our poor kids were so tired, so cold. Our pups were frantic not wanting to stay in the van, but not wanting to be outside. It was sleeting and we were so tired. We had to go back the next day, and on Monday we had to rent a second smaller unit to put the rest of our stuff.

Military moving companies would be proud of us as we broke two lamps, and a lot of dishes. 

We lived in a hotel for 9 long days. It was nice. We tried to cook on the hot plate, our griddle and crockpot, but really we ate out a lot. We argued with each other. The kids were cranky, the dogs were nervous. 

On the Wednesday after our arrival we signed the paperwork for our house, but it would not fully be ours until the following Monday. 

We managed to find Santa and Mrs. Klaus in Kalamazoo and it was a no touch event. That made me feel more like normal was coming back into the picture. 

Moving day we got another truck and headed back to the storage shed. We spent that entire day loading everything we could onto that truck and by 3:50pm we were heading to our home. It was nearly 9 when we finally stopped unloading that truck. There was no internet, but we had pizza. 

That Tuesday we took the truck back, picked up breakfast. After eating I became sick and spent part of my first full day in our house vomiting and sleeping. That pizza did me in. I did manage to pull myself together and start unpacking. 

We decided to work hard, but take Christmas off. It was a welcome break. Visiting my Aunt was the highlight of that day. 

By the following Sunday we were pretty much unpacked. 

We had argued, I had convinced myself that our marriage couldn't possible survive. 

To top it all off, one of our main arguments was about how often I dust, vacuum, mop, and clean in general. A lot of our furniture was dusty as neighbors helped us carry it out. That was embarrassing to him especially when one of them commented on my dusting skills. Wife fail, I guess. 

So here we are. Holidays over, and everyone back at it. 

School started right after the new year, we are on week two. Hubby is at his new job, week two of training. He will be working late. I have already realized that this will work in my favor. I have decided to carve about 2 hours a night for just myself. 

The kids and I are cleaning every single day. Dusting will be done once a week. Toilets and sinks daily, and showers 3 days a week. I set up a schedule for the kids and I. 

Did I mention that week one was exhausting? 

We love our house though. It is perfect for us, though it is drastically lacking in closet space and walls to hang pictures. Our basement has a nice collection of things we will not use here, and extra things from the kitchen. 

We are settling in quite well, though I feel as if I will never make friends. I miss my friends in Kentucky. I miss having neighbors to wave at or holler a hello to when you go outside. I do not hear helicopters, or the training artilleries fire from the Military installation. There are no dogs barking, no cars loudly driving down the road at all hours of the night and early mornings.  

At some point, we will go out and find a church, go more places than my Aunts, or Kalamazoo, or the grocery store. 

Here is to new beginnings. 

Confessions From an OCD Military Spouse: Anticipation

 On this rainy day in October, I sit at my table with my brain flooded with checklists. 

Checklist one: Get kids started on school today this one is full of all the things I hope we get covered. It also includes a vivid mental image of me getting soaked while picking up the lunches provided by the school.

Checklist Two: Use this few minutes of quiet to answer and send all emails. 

Checklist Three: Virtual meeting to go over platform for online class I will be teaching in a WEEK!

Checklist Four: I really should prepare for said class.

Checklist Five: This is really full and has more of an outline format. Pack up more stuff. What can I pack that we won't miss for nearly two months? Should I turn in 30 day notice on the fence? Do I have enough boxes? When do I start on the kids room? Should I pack more of our clothes? 

I already have a significant portion of our house packed. I began packing way back in September. I waited until my husband started the class that would line us up for this move. I have tried to pack in such a way that it does not affect our functionality as a family. I mean who needs pictures on the wall? 

Now I bet by now you are wondering why I am even packing? Doesn't the Military move us? Of course it does. They also like to damage our belongings and lose things like sleds. But really when the sleds didn't arrive with us here in Kentucky, it was like, okay not such a bad thing. But now, two years later, I am still stewing over those sleds. We are now moving to a snowy state and boy would those sleds come in handy. 

This move we are doing ourselves. This will be us, well me, packing everything. This will be us loading the truck, unloading the truck. This will be a huge move, for only a mere six hours away. 

I want to be prepared. 

I want to have time to go to Tennessee and  visit my family.

Mentally I mapped this all out months ago. Pack early, take the week of Thanksgiving off from school and go home. Do a combined Christmas/Thanksgiving. Give hugs, feel sad, say see ya later and come home. 

Let the crazy begin immediately after. 

Pick up truck that has yet to be scheduled, pack said truck, clear housing and move away. 

Good bye Kentucky, we are off to snowy adventures, not in New Jersey like we were led to believe for weeks. Well, in reality only about two weeks. Hey it is Army life, and everything changes at a moments notice. 

I am stressed to the max

I am trying to remain calm all while facing the many scenarios that an upcoming Military move can throw at you. 

And this time we much find a house. It looks like we won't be renting, but instead buying. So guess what? 

If you guessed that this means another checklist, then you are correct. 

It comes in right under "How to plan a birthday party during Covid" And guess what? That is not going so well. We have settled on having close friends drive by at an appointed time hand them a bag of candy, and calling it a day. We are planning to go a little bigger on gifts to make up for the lack of celebration. I will make cupcakes with the birthday girl and we will celebrate at home as a family. That is what matters the most. 

The rest of the crazy can remain outside, or on a minimized window inside of my brain. 

At the end of the day, we will conquer this upcoming move. We will go over any obstacles that present themselves. I will pray hard that it does not snow as we make our way due North. 

Confessions of a Not so Ordinary Mom: The first 38 Days

 We survived! Or should I say that I survived?

38 LONG days of teaching, learning, overcoming, becoming. The list goes on. 

I have learned, no I am still learning, how to make this all work. How to help each child reach their full potential. 

There have been days of not much getting done, to days of getting it all done. 

Math, now that is a difficult one. I am not a great mathematician. In fact, for me the struggle is real. Were it not for the answer guides, I might not be able to do it at all. Here is the girl who barely passed ninth grade due to failing math, teaching math to her kids. WOW! Thankfully we have my husband who humbly declines the "Math whiz" title. He tutors each of us and helps me out, so that I too can become more proficient. For these kids, I have learned that my daughter is better at math than I thought she was. On the days her little brain is ready to go, she can zip right through one or two lessons. For my son, the struggle is real. I often look across the table at him and wonder how the teachers ever thought he was great at Math. Yes, some areas he is great and so many more he needs guidance and patience and several days to master what is on the page before him.

I am enjoying Language Arts. I love the curriculum we chose for the kids. The ease of use, the amount of handwriting practice, and the art to study within the lessons. Adding in Geography at just the right amount. I see how my kids take to it. Gasping at writing sentences, at getting red ink reminders for punctuation and capitalization. I have yet to write a serious grade in my planner, as I am still figuring out how to grade on Language Arts. They cringe each time I ask them to write names and date at the top of a page. "Neatly" I repeat all day long. "Make it legible" is my other mantra. 

Marine Biology has been a fun breeze for us. Little reading, some gluing together worksheets and a lot of informational videos. YouTube is an amazing resource. Our Marine Biology studies are drawing to a close, and I am working on a small test. 

History Year One has lost me. The study of Egypt was dry and it did not hit on the highlights. The Romans were mentioned in passing. Instead it focused a lot on the Bible. I do think this is good, but for history it was not exactly what I had in mind. We shall muddle through and hope for the best. Next up, a small paper on what they have learned. I hope they can remember it. 

I have both kids working on Spelling. My son right at grade level and my daughter below grade level. Spelling is teaching my son how to see the words and look them up for the meaning. After this, he should be able to place it in the correct usage sentence. I think this is one area he wishes he could skip. I am proud of him for working hard at each weeks lessons and even doing okay on the spelling tests. For my daughter, these small four letter words are perfect for her. They encourage confidence while reinforcing the basics. She has blossomed as a reader since we began distance learning in March. I get to take credit for this progress. I have sat by her and pushed her and slowly she is becoming a little reader. Now to get her to read books for fun. 

Spanish has not been happening like I was hoping it would. I am not fluent and I feel lost on how to teach it. I have done well teaching Hispanic Heritage Month. We have learned about many Hispanic Leaders in the U.S. that have helped shaped the country. So many interesting people that I knew nothing about. I know that right now they are young, and that most of this will just be something they heard, but it is my hope it will stick. We even covered 9/11. I am adding in extra things about notable people or events and this is to build a foundation of knowledge. 

We have had tears. I have yelled. I have felt defeated. I have felt on top of the world. My son has spent long days and even weekends attempting to master something from Math. The tears fall, the frustration flows, and we embrace all the emotions and work through it. By having them here and teaching them here, I am able to see the weak points and help them improve. I am able to see the strong points and help them to excel. 

I struggle with fun. I don't know why I struggle with fun, but I do. I am attempting to improve on this. I have had to adjust our entire schedule multiple times to find what fits. I found what fit for us and then was told that my kids could continue Speech Therapy at their schools due to the IEPs they have. 

I took the opportunity and it threw a huge monkey wrench into our schedule. This was week one, and I pray that week two, which will have four days of bouncing between the schools, goes much smoother. 

In the beginning we had many breaks a day. But these had to go. I could not bring them back on task once they got up and ran around. Now we push through math, break for a tiny snack, come back for LA, Spelling, and Handwriting, and lunch. These kids eat all day long. Sometimes it feels like I am living with two hungry caterpillars. 

Lunch is where I start the break with a YouTube video that is either a notable person or event and they watch this while I get lunch ready. Then I have scaled lunch back from an hour to about 45 minutes. The goal is to be done before 1:30 every day. This is pushing each child and myself right up to our limits. But the end goal for them is screen time. Hours of screen time. My goal is to use this time for a virtual volunteering opportunity that I have. I also enjoy mindlessly scrolling through social media or much more recently looking at all the houses for rent that don't allow pets and are expensive. 

Throughout all of this crazy, I have had kidney stone pain, hospitalized, pain from a stent. My husband has had work issues, and now is in school. I am packing up our house for a potential move. I am doing laundry nearly every day. My short order cook skills are getting up to phenomenal. The needs of my family pushing me to rise every day. Pushing me to give it my best. Unfortunately, I am losing control of my eating habits. My stress eating is through the roof and I am even craving coffee. Though the truth of it is, I would love a cigarette. That is horrible, I know, but this stress can be through the roof some days. I look in the mirror and I see my body shape as okay, then I see my protruding belly that looks as if I am six months pregnant bulging out. I secretly eat anything sweet I can smuggle into this house. You see a problem? I do too. I cannot find the motivation to workout though we have an exercise bike, a treadmill, a great area to walk the dogs or ride a bike. I am failing at this. I am letting myself go.  

In the background is the election noise. The social unrest. The desire to change the world through educating my kids and becoming a better person. I have my absentee ballot and I plan to send it in soon. That is one great way to be a part of the push for change. 

My favorite tv shows are a thing of the past. I long for the days of quiet time to use toward just watching a show. I could still do this, but with kids at home it is continuous pausing in order to address their needs, issues, and diffuse the situations between them. With a tiny girl screeching at her brother who I am sure is antagonizing her when I am not looking, it is hard to get peace some days. 

But this has been a great 38 days. I am counting down the days until our November break. I am aware that November break brings about see you laters and change and a new house and a big adventure. I am am ready to face the next 38 days. 

October 1, 2020

Confessions of a Not so Ordinary Mom: Kidney Stones

 Our homeschool journey has been going much better than I anticipated. My youngest, whom I expected to be the hardest to teach is actually thriving. My middle child is struggling. His ability to work diligently or with a minimum amount of daydreaming is dragging him down.

The last month has been a true blessing. It has been fun learning along side of the kids. It is amazing to watch their self confidence build. My daughter is now reading at a much better pace than when we started distance learning in March. Her math skills are blossoming. My son is doing well learning his state capitals and even his handwriting is improving. 

Both kids are getting much better at their daily chores. We are finding a harmony and making things work in a way that even I did not expect. We have had some tears and we have overcome them. There are days that we don't accomplish much of what I was hoping to accomplish. Days where youtube is our teacher. And so many days where I wonder if I am doing enough. My husband always assures me that I am doing a great job. 

And then out of the blue I began to have pain in my lower back. I knew what was coming, though I tried to deny it and push through. Ultimately I ended up in the hospital over a weekend. Thankfully, my husband was able to get a week to work at home. That was a glorious week of tandem teaching. Even he admitted that teaching the kids could be exhausting as well as rewarding. The Monday of that week, my husband was solo. I sent him all the passwords and gave him a rundown of what should occur. He tackled it like a boss!

The next two weeks, I had to manage my pain levels and fatigue all while teaching and running the household. That is when we began cutting our days super short. I needed a nap in order to have the strength to tackle dinner. Once I got the stint exchanged for a new one and kidney stone removed, I was back at it. 

I know that homeschool is to reflect flexibility. I know that it is okay to day a day off. I did give the kids and myself one day off, the day of my surgery. 

By the following day I dragged myself out of bed and forced myself to work through the uncomfortable. I made a many trips to pee and it was distracting for both the kids and and I, but we pushed through. By lunch it was obvious that I would not be able to continue. We watched a Sea Turtle Video and several videos on Cesar Chavez. Then we called it a day. 

Today I felt better and I started the kids earlier than normal so we could push through. We managed to get everything done that I wanted done in a timely manner. 

It is hard being a homeschool parent and having medical issues. You have have to work through the pain or discomfort and get things done. You have to know when to stop and when to give yourself a break. 

Here is to overcoming the odds!

September 17 2020

Confessions from a Not So Ordinary Mom: Homeschool

 We will start with this: Yes, I did say I would NEVER homeschool any of my children. But then again it is 2020, and here we are. I am Homeschooling my youngest two children. 

I began to consider this option when distance learning was going strong, wearing me down, bringing me low. The kids and I were exhausted with the routine, exhausted with each other. I noticed that my middle son was struggling with nearly everything. Why can't my then second grader read at a Kindergarten Level? It began to pile up. 

The pros and cons list came out. Pros, I could get my son caught up, because in the beginning it was only going to be him. Then I was considering that upcoming move that still is not in the books for us. So that got me thinking more about my daughter. Then May happened. Glorious May with the seemingly great PTO meeting that ended in disaster. Well, really emotional disaster. Anyway, I decided for my mental health I needed to homeschool my children. 

How on earth does homeschooling help with mental health? Well, I needed a break from the people around me. Not so much in my neighborhood, and not all of those I met during various activities I participated in . I needed a break from putting on a face and struggling to fit into a box. See, I am really a rebel at heart, and as I near my mid-forties I am realizing that I don't fit inside of a box. That I am like air filling up a balloon and at any moment I could burst. 

I need to find the new me, as I am sure that this is yet another metamorphosis. When this is all over I will be a new version of me. I need to come to terms with this bubbling rage that is right below the surface. I need to come to terms with the fact that I am not the conservative that I thought I was. I need to find myself in the midst of it all. 

But this decision felt right. I started the research. I reached out to friends who were homeschooling pros. I reached out to those I thought might have insight even though I didn't think it would be beneficial to me. I read reviews of curriculum after curriculum. I weighed out what was important to me. I then opened that bank account and let that money pay for the education that I know my children deserve. I found resources, I found support. I found a whole new community. 

All of this is directly in response to our current world situation. I did not want to send my kids to school knowing that mask wearing was a struggle to them. I also did not want to send them and then have them come back home to distance learn. To be brutally honest, distance learning was a horrible nightmare. The routine didn't work, the Google meets were horrendous for the most part. I knew that we would not survive another round of distance learning. I also knew that the transition from school to distance learning would be hard on my son. We needed stability. We needed our home. 

We have slowly begun to venture out. We have visited Tennessee. We avoid Walmart. I finally went inside of an Aldis for the first time since March. But really, I have begun to lay the foundation of teamwork and family unity. I am teaching the kids that for this to work we need to be a team. And so far it is working. 

They have picked up more chores. Now this isn't anything too big. Just daily vacuuming and mopping, changing bathroom trash bags and keeping your room clean. Rewards are extra screen time that even Mommy needs you to have. 

I have avoided sending my son to school with a mask, hearing aides, and glasses. I have avoided sending my overly social daughter to a school with kids that might not talk to her because their mommy doesn't like me. Trust me, it is better this way. 

So homeschooling started a week ago. I made us a schedule that we stuck to like glue for two days. By day three I was tweaking it. And now here we are, what schedule? I see that they both need extra LA and Math, so we work on the two for nearly 2 hours each morning. I give breaks, we play the math games. We try to do typing each day, and certainly Spanish. Marine Biology has become shark week. I am still processing how to teach the History we have. It is Biblical based, but not so much as to be overwhelming. It is heavy on the reading, and it is most certainly white washed. My compromise on that is to teach for Hispanic Heritage month and Black History Month. I will find other things to add in. 

I am satisfied with our decision. I like the fun supplies we purchased. They are working with me. They are finding a groove. Together we are doing this. 

Unraveling

Hard year, from March to June.
 Normalcy gone.
Relax, but not true relax.

Friendship, slowly, mixed with children's laughter.
Late nights, bonfires, talking, talking, talking.

What happened?
Where did I go and how did I end up here?

In this place of deep regret tinged with deep embarrassment and a loss of a brief moment in time.

I am an adult.

I am

What? What am I?

Saved? Should be

Swear like a sailor, like I am uneducated, covered.

The f bomb always ready to drop

Cultured? Wasn't I?

Sweet, I was.

Anger welling up inside of me, like a red hot wave of lava

I must live with my decisions.

I must live with what I did.

Remorse? yes, a tiny bit so, possibly not so much as I should have though

Darkness? yes, the light inside of me is getting harder to see

Where can I find myself? Church? Haven't been in months
Bible's by my bed, read them, probably not.

I am truly lost and I

I don't know what to do or where to go from here.

Continue to grow is all that I can do

The Chronicals of a Not So Ordinary Mom: Unfriended

Unfriended, that should not be, but can be a powerful word. You tell yourself that it doesn't really matter, but then it happens to you and it does matter. Then you tell yourself you are being silly, but you feel this sick feeling deep inside.

I was unfriended. Honestly it should not have been a surprise, but it was, and it did hurt, deeply.

The elementary PTO came to an end with a social distancing transition meeting. I was excited to see my current board mates and the incoming board. I was excited to share my experiences and to suggest a few changes. The former VP had asked if anyone would be wearing a mask, I said that I would, but I didn't unless I was talking directly to her during the meeting. While at the meeting I happened to notice that the VP had sent a message to me saying she would sit next to me during the meeting because I would wear a mask. I felt horrible. I had let her down. After the meeting I sent her a message letting her know that I admired her for sticking to her beliefs. She had worn her mask all during the meeting. I also let her know that I valued her opinion. I already had this feeling that this woman that I admire and think of as a friend, was thinking I was wishy washy and not good at keeping my word. This haunted me all the next day after the meeting.

Upon arrival, I was gifted a beautiful tumbler with my name on it, one that has since become a petty sticking point sitting on my counter. I had forgotten my camp chair and therefore pulled a reusable bag from my van to sit on. I had my mask with me and my suggestion list. The air was cooling down from unbearable humid and the distant sound of children playing and passing cars filled the empty silence as we waited in the church parking lot for everyone to arrive.

For many months now I had sensed a shift in my relationship with the current President. It started so simply when I found out about Drama Club at the school. I was confused how she didn't mention why my daughter wasn't signed up as our daughters were somewhat friends. It had seemed like an oversight and almost intentional. I got the information contact and was able to add my daughter to the club, but almost from that moment way back in the early months of the year, it had felt like we were beginning to walk separate paths. And really that is normal. People grow and change and it is nothing to be sad about, it is part of our personal growth.

At one point I had been at a school board meeting where it was brought up that our elementary school had a lot of outstanding lunch debt. This is one of my issues that I hold close to my heart. I do not believe any kid, despite family income, should have to pay for lunch or breakfast. I brought it up to the President and when it shifted from my inquiry how can we help, to her answer "Well I bet that is all of the E9s who are lazy and don't want to pay" I know I became defensive when I answered, because I really don't believe that to be the case. I live in a neighborhood designated for the lower ranks. It became a tad heated as I voiced my concerns and even my own experience. You see there was once a time my oldest did not have lunch money. As a single mom I worked and I did not qualify for the free lunch program. When I got married and added a child I really did not qualify. There were many times my son had no lunch money. The school he went to, they were strict on the "no money, no food" rule. He would be given bread with peanut butter or the principle would buy his lunch that day and send home a note about how she had to pay for him to eat and blah blah. The irony of the situation was that his school was like this one, it was sitting in the middle of a wealthy neighborhood, and it was a small school, so they knew our situation, but they did not reach out with compassion. Instead they ignored or ridiculed or said non helpful things like "why don't you apply for free lunch?"

 Anyway, I know this moment was a for sure turning point. It was the moment I found my voice. It was the moment I realized that I am able to vocalize and to stand my ground for my beliefs. Our last in person meeting also had a moment where I stood my ground for what I believe. I stand with the underdog. I stand with those who do not have the means to provide what their families need. I stand with those who are not popular. After the meeting the Secretary reached out and said that I had been passionate and that she had never seen me like that. My voice had been heard, but it obviously put another crack in the one friendship.

So the transition meeting commences and I listen to the President spinning herself in this easy going easy to work with light. In a way that I know was not always the reality. I listened to her cut off the VP that she had often clashed with. I heard her say she had taken the suggestion from the Secretary that I know she completely blew off. I am sitting there in disbelief and wondering what my fellow board mates are thinking and how the new board is interpreting her words. Only one of us from the current board will be on the board next year. She is a sweet lady, but one I have never fully trusted as instinct says she only agrees with the one she is currently engaging with. I know she is good friends with the President and I have zero issues with this. But I have also talked with her and heard her passion and her great ideas, only to arrive at meetings and hear her say "You know M and I have already talked about this and this is what we think" Because her And M they always talk and make decisions and then at meetings it is "Should I go ahead and mention that or wait?" It was almost like they had meetings before meetings to align themselves before they brought it up with the rest of the board. At those meetings I would be looking at the other two and wondering if they too thought they had missed something. Again I digress.

When the subject of our Spirit Wear fundraiser is brought up, I add my suggestions of inclusivity. I knew this was not a popular thing for the President. But this goes back to my first month with kids at the school. We arrived in late October. My kids started school that last week. They missed picture day at this school and the ones they left. So anyway, my kids come home talking about not getting a spirit prize. I am confused about this and as I am going to a Popcorn Friday, I bring this up at the event. The girl I spoke to explained to me that you must have current year school shirt to get a prize and they were not sure yet if they would do a second order. So I was immediately confused and asked how could my kids participate because, well we were new here. There were no shirts left in their size, so they could wear blue on those days and get a prize. I mentioned that I thought it was kind of like a money scheme, which did not gain me much grace with this girl. That is when the idea blossomed that I would like to be on the board. That I would like to make this my cause. No kid should be left out. Fast forward to becoming a board member and having inclusivity shot down once again. That and the fact that no one wanted to have volunteers be able to log volunteer hours into the Army's VMIS system, those became two sticking points. Well, to be honest, more like bug bites that you can't quit scratching. I did not like Spirit Friday's just for the fact that I now knew that some of these families were moving, had just moved here, or had multiple kids. Each time I broached the subject I was met with "Well, that is not our problem, or they can wear blue on spirit goes blue, or we can't give shirts to everyone, or this is our main fundraiser" It was frustrating to say the least. So I am sure that over the course of the school year, she had gotten tired of me.

I did get the VMIS to become a thing, but again this was through a lot of persuasiveness. The argument that if you volunteer with the PTO and want to log hours means that you are only in it for an award did not sit well with me. I knew the inner workings and how this could benefit someone for a job resume or for a school age kid to accrue much needed hours. And then one day, she caved and said you set it up you can do it. You know what?, I did, and it was a success. Within just a month many of our volunteers began to log hours. I mingled and brought this up to as many volunteers as I could, and always letting them know it was optional.

See the reason I was unfriended did not just happen, it happened over the course of a school year.

At the meeting my suggestion was met with much agreement on the incoming board. The incoming Treasurer even mentioned that with the current state of the economy many more parents might not be able to afford the extra costs this coming school year.

I also stressed the importance of mingling. I know this is not a strong point of everyone. For myself and for the former VP, this was something we did well. Our former president did know everyone's name and knew which kids belonged to which parent. That was such a strong point, and one that I never failed to admire. But things didn't go so well after our former VP began speaking. She would be laying out what she found worked, the summer playdates she set up, or something else and the former President would cut her off. I would elaborate on something the VP said. I even brought up her wonderful teacher birthday recognition that she was in charge of. I guess all of my elaboration and saying the VP this or that, was hurtful and not intentional, but should have been handled differently. You would think that I as the oldest person there, could have managed to not hurt someone's feelings so badly. But was I the only one in the wrong?

By the end of the meeting it was late and I felt positive. I felt like the new board was ready and the current board was ready for new adventures. I walked away with a beautiful cup in my hand. The former president asked about how my son was healing from a procedure he had recently, we talked about the barber we had both used for our sons, and it felt like there was something missing. I got in my van and drove home.

Thursday I pull myself out of bed and see I have a message from the former VP. What? you were unfriended? You noticed that I was and also the former Secretary. It was true. I was actually unfriended by two people, two former PTO Presidents. I messaged M and she said that I hurt her feelings. I had started out with "I am sorry if I offended you" I apologized for hurting her feelings and I listened to her response on how my words at the meeting made her feel like she had done a terrible job. I then told her all the qualities that she had that I truly admired and that watching her in that role, showed me that I am not ready to be a president yet, most likely not even a vp. I told her it was a great thing being part of the board with her. I also told her that her friendship had mattered to me more than that board. I felt so low all that day, and here I am on a Saturday, still feeling low. I also have a beautiful tumbler with my name on it that I will most likely never use. I just cannot look at it without seeing that blue button "Add Friend"

I don't know why this matters to me so much. I will be moving soon. I just know that two ladies that I thought really cared about me as a friend, unfriended me because I had a different opinion. One of them had even reached out to ask if I was okay, and I thought to myself "wow she really cares, how very sweet" But words are just words. It is now up to me how I interpret this situation and grow from this situation. It is up to me, to remain cordial in public and to carry on in a positive way. I admit I was wrong by not handling the meeting in a better way, but I really think this started months ago and that on a deeper level we were probably more acquaintances than friends. Everyone has stuff they deal with on a personal level and how they present that or use it to shape their beliefs, is part of their story. It is up to each of us to respect their journey and to listen to their beliefs without judgment.

May you be the very best you.

The Chronicals of a Not so Ordinary Mom: Two Months Later

Here we are, Friday the 15th of May. The day it all changed for me was Friday the 13th of March. That was the last day I hosted a get together inside of my house. There was pizza that night. Pizza and ceviche. No pizza was consumed by my family until the very first week of May.

May, it came so fast, but so slowly. Saturday May 2, my husband and I accepted an invite to eat at our neighbors. It was a cookout!!! Like before all the craziness. We ate salsa, we ate grilled Chicken. Oh we laughed! It felt so good, so normal. Just two families sitting on the back patio with the grill going and great food. Conversation, and wine. At 4:30 a.m. I woke up in my bed, dry eyes, the room spinning. I struggled up to go to the bathroom and realized I was fully dressed, had no idea how I walked that short distance home, and my contacts were in. I pulled my contacts out and tossed them into the trash. I almost crawled back to my bed. I woke up two more times, and two more times I thought I was dying. Finally at 8, I retreated to the cooler living room and sat on the couch. As I am looking at my FB, I realize that I missed the loud music and the fireworks. My husband finally makes an appearance and explains to me that at 10pm, I nearly passed out, so he brought me home and went back to the barbeque. He said that our son was home with me and our daughter was living every kid's dream dancing in the firelight and roasting marsh mellows until 1am. when he brought her home. He also heard the fireworks and our attached neighbor was playing the loud music. He also planned a small get together for our son's upcoming birthday.

I spent much of that day recovering and listening to my husband pick on me for drinking two bottles of wine. I truly felt like poo. We sat down and made a plan for this get together. Two families would be invited. Each from our little dead end street. We would have a small piñata. We would serve burgers, hot dogs, and ceviche. I would make desserts, our awesome neighbor would make the cake. The weather turned cold. There was rain. The rain stopped the night before the birthday celebration. The day of was cool, but we were cooking out at 2. Our attached neighbor loaned us their big grill. We borrowed a table and chairs from our neighbor. We did not maintain social distance. The entire celebration was outside. The food was served inside. When it came time for cake, we cut my son's slice and placed the candles on it for him to blow out. It was right on the line of an appropriate celebration. What is normal now? Is this to be the reality? My son's biggest wish next to getting a computer, was to go to Tennessee to celebrate with our families. This could not happen, so we found a happy medium. My son really wanted this special girl that he has been chatting with multiple times a day online to come. I had to call her mom and explain that I could not invite her though I really wanted to. It was so awkward. Anyone who knows me, will know that I am game for all the friends to come and celebrate, but it could not be that way this year. We celebrated late into the night and then came inside and fell into an exhausted heap on the couch. Clean up took place the next day.

Yay! Online school has come to a close. We finished good, I won't say it was a strong finish. The kids and I were done. It was so hard to wake up each day and get going and then stay on task. I felt let down that we never got to go back. It was hard to do a grab and go for belongings. I met with each of the two PTOs and we tied up loose ends. One more meeting and I will no longer be on any PTO board. I am so sad by this. I love being a part of something bigger than I am .

I feel a closer connection to the families on my little dead end street than I do for most of the people I have known the entire time I have been here. As I was driving through a neighborhood doing and auction pick up, it dawned on me that new friendships have been forged. Those that we turned to during this time will be our new rock walls to lean on. Going through this was in some ways harder than facing a deployment or extended field exercise. I miss my life before this. I miss getting up and having a place to be and time to be there. I have worn mascara three times and done my full make up twice. I wear leggings daily, which is mostly normal. I have bought a lot of shoes, shoes that I am sure I won't be wearing anytime soon. Netflix and Hulu show me the outside world as if in a dream. I am not who I was before and I am sure I am not the only one whose very existence has been altered by all of this.

Things are opening up slowly. Some states you can actually eat inside of a restaurant and shop in stores. I do not know how I feel about all of this. Cautious, but also unsure of how to proceed. At which point do I admit that I was a sheep, or was I a sheep? Have I acted out of my own free will or because the Government and the media have directed my actions? What to believe? How can you really know for sure which side is right? Why does there have to be only two ways it can go? I know that I am not fully comfortable returning to normal. I know that the idea of my family moving who knows where this fall terrifies me. I am trying to think positively about going back to school. I mean, I want my kids to go back, but is it the right way for things to move forward? I think that the time for big change is upon us. I told my kids daily pay attention, learn how to use these programs, this is your future. I think that those younger than me, those who have always welcomed more chances to do things online are finally getting their dream come true. Will anyone know how to properly greet people in person? Will they all become socially distant and there be no more community gatherings? What happens to church in a building? I am so confuse about the entire thing. Unlike my husband, I tend to shy away from the media. I don't want to listen to the media picking apart everything that the POTUS says. I mean, he constantly talks to them and says and does things that will only add fuel to the fires. I am tired of conspiracy theories. I just cannot do them anymore. I have read and watched all that is put out. I want to be objective, to know both sides, but to me they are all reaching or grasping for the truth. Only God knows.

I feel even more lost than before. As one of the neighbors was getting his plate he looked to my walls with a small amount of religious pictures. When he asked if it was my husband or I who was religious, I could not even answer. I have truly lost my religion. It has been coming for awhile. Ever since we moved to Fort Drum. I feel God moving further and further away. It is me of course because he does not leave us, but I realized that I am not sad PWOC is finished. I am not sad that I cannot go worship in the church. I am relieved that I can stay in my home and drop the F bomb silently all day long. It is a pathetic existence, but it is my reality.

I think this whole stay at home thing has not been good for me mentally. I have nightmares where I see my daughter shot or where I am about to be killed. I wake myself out crying into my pillow as my husband sleeps next to me. There are days where I cannot get myself to work through it for fear that my mind will fall back into those dreams. Why am I like that? I know, because I am a lost soul. I am one of the lost. I changed my FB name to my middle name. I don't really know why I felt compelled to do this, only that it seemed the right thing to do. So now I am in this weird in between place.

The highlight of my week was when the library announced we could once again check out materials simply by sending and email with our request. It was a glorious moment to pick up new books and turn in the old books.

Mother's day was a great day. We had a picnic in the yard eating the birthday celebration leftovers. We went to the PX and my husband let my daughter pick my present. I was beyond shocked to see the designer handbag. I even offered to take it back. I am now a proud owner of a purse that cost nearly as much as our wedding ring set that I can no longer wear.

We are well. The kids are happy. My daughter outside nearly every day playing with two little boys. My middle son becoming a recluse. Wrapped up in his virtual world with his borrowed computer from the school and his new computer. He chats often with that special girl and I feel as if I know her a tad bit. I have heard him speak more to her in an hour than he does to me in a day. I hear is gleeful laughter and know that it won't be heard outside of his room. Medical is open in our state, so now the official countdown to his corrective ankle surgery is on. The last week of this month we have that, the second week of June he finally gets the final baby teeth pulled. He is scared. I am numb.

My labs were not much worse than pre stay at home, but they weren't any better. I have failed at improving them. With my husband cooking most of the meals due to my inability to care about much after school is finished, I don't have as much control. Add to this the fact that we are limited on the amount of meats we can buy. Then there is the temptation to buy or bake sweets. I am truly doomed.

But for now, I have survived, and my family has survived two months of this new normal. My husband is back to work and we are waiting to see what our next adventure will be.

Be blessed in all that you do

The Chronicals of a Not So Ordinary Mom: Reflections

As Sunday dawns chilly at first light with cloud cover, I throw aside the blankets and place my feet lightly on the floor. I am ready as ready will ever be to face yet another day inside my house, my neighborhood, my safety area.

When once I thought I would never survive inside my house, I have come to realize it is really not so bad. I have ventured out to the stores, but that leaves me feeling off. In a way I wonder if agoraphobia will become a much more recognized condition. As we become immersed in life inside our homes, we grasp the ability to do most things online. We can shop, we can bank, we can work and teach and even meet. Appearances may slide, at least for me they have. I have worn make up once in a month. I have blow dried my hair a handful of times. My go to clothes are my leggings and comfy t-shirts. For school we all get out of bed and dressed in various forms of comfy clothes. I have watched my husband become more comfortable in athletic shorts and when he goes out he will swap to khaki shorts.

 I counted up my outings from my side of post and I came up with three trips into Louisville, two of those trips my family ordered tacos to eat in the van. We have ordered cheese dip two times, we have gone inside of a Walmart two times, the commissary three times, Aldi once, and a Walmart pick up. All that since April 14.  My husband also reenlisted the first week of social distancing. This change is huge for my family. I am coming to the end of my two PTO terms, I am still on the Resident Advisory board, PWOC is now online only.

My social life is basically non existent. I should be sad, but in a small way I am relieved. I have been putting myself out there for nearly three years. I posted only pictures of me as my profile picture so people would see my face and choose me to babysit, or know that I was someone they could reach out to as the FRG Leader, The Treasurer, and Finally for the PTO and the RAB. I recently changed it to a picture of something not my face. It is back to my face, but I have now changed my fb name. I have decided to step back. To use this time to focus on me, on my family.

See for us, we are the brink of a huge change. My husband will be a recruiter by the end of this year. We will most likely be living away from the Military Community I so love and cherish. We will very likely be in a place where I am the minority. And worst of all we will have to accept that my husband might not be home for supper, might be working weekends, will be fielding phone calls at odd times. We will have to learn a new way to support him as he faces new stresses and challenges. During this time we have fully embraced our tiny family unit. We are enjoying the bike rides, the times to cook and clean and learn together. Movies on the Tv, Music blasting from the blue tooth speakers. Cuddles with the Chihuahuas.

We see our neighbors from time to time, but mostly in passing. My husband still sees his soldiers almost daily and talks to them on the phone. I still message a few of my friends, but I feel the closure of our time at this place coming. I know that I can drive away from here and remember the good times, but also know this was never a forever home. It was difficult to drive away from NNY. I was heart broken for months and struggled to find my place here. I have met many amazing women and many of them I will remain in contact with. I have been faced with the fake and the judgmental here and I know that is everywhere. I know that in many instances I was merely flitting in between, but never truly belonging. Isn't that what we all strive for? Belonging to what? I crave the company of those who have struggled and survived. Those who are educated and examples of how to become the best you.

While being here, I have learned that I am passionate about being involved and speaking up for the underdog. I have learned that I want to use my voice to advocate for those who don't have an advocate. I care about donating money to wipe out a lunchroom debt because I believe all kids should have free lunches regardless of how much money the parents make. I want to help everyone and I know and understand that there are those that you cannot help, but I still want to try. I want to speak up for those who might not be able to afford school spirit shirts and therefore their kids may not get a prize, which by the way, breaks my heart. I have come to realize that one of my strong points, might be a weak point, is the ability to see and listen to all sides. I know how it feels to have what you need and I know how it feels to not have what you need. I have so many friends from all walks of life. I have friends who have struggled with a wide range of issues. Because I am empathetic I have felt their struggles and celebrated their wins right along side of them.

Years ago when my greatest friendship turned out to be a huge lie, I realized that not everyone sees the world the way we do. I have grown from that betrayal and used that experience to grow. It was slow at first because I did not want to get close to anyone. I became more introverted than normal. But then we moved to NNY and my husband deployed. I began babysitting, I threw myself into FRG involvement, I made a friend for life. Suddenly I met others who pushed me to step out of my comfort zone. All of that led me to where I am now. I am deeply saddened to not be able to re run for a position on either PTO board. I will volunteer until we move though. But at the end of all that has transpired in the last school year, I am ready to step back. I am ready to reanalyze the friendships that I thought I had formed. I am ready to accept that for many I am just there, not a meaningful part of their lives. I am okay with this, though honesty is  that it hurts.

In the end you must take all that you learned and grow from it. My roots are getting stronger, they are growing deeper. I am learning how to navigate the world of public existence and I know that where ever we land I will grow. I am dreading all that leads up to a move. Thinking positively though, all of this social distancing will make the see you laters much easier. There will be no long drawn out goodbyes and events to attend. One day I will be here, the next packing and leaving my house and then I will be off to the next place.

Be the best you. Be open to change and not narrow minded. Embrace everyone no matter, race, belief, politics, etc. BE THE BEST YOU.

The Chronicals of a Not so Ordinary Mom: Teacher Parade

It is the Week of the Military Child. This includes Purple Up for the Military Child. On a normal year, you visit your housing office, if you live on a Military installation, for a purple pinwheel. Or you go to the local PX and get a free dandelion patch. On April 15th everyone wears a purple shirt. It is kind of a big deal if you are into all of that. Don't forget that the dandelion is the flower that represents the Military Child. This is because they are strong and resilient and used to change.

For the most part it was not a huge deal this year with all of this stuff going on. The schools on post got together and planned a teacher parade for April 15th and everyone could wear purple. Signs and banners were made and sweet anticipation rippled through the community. My kids were vibrating with excitement as the time for the first parade drew closer.

The first parade was the high school, middle school, and intermediate schools. As the kids and I stood with our sign outside of our van, we were chilly and the wind was whipping all around us. When we saw the first flashing lights of the MP, we began to squeal in delight. As they drew closer they turned on the siren momentarily and suddenly the morning air was filled with the beeping horns and shouts from the cars passing us by. As the teachers recognized my son, they would call out his name. We were so elated and full of new morale after that parade rolled on by us. Thankfully it was time for lunch break. This gave me a moment to review my own pictures, but that all my on post friends and the school fb page. I stared in awe at those videos of the parade and new deep in my hear that I had just been a part of something special, even if I was just a spectator.

Back to the grind for just a little bit. The kids each having a Google Meet. And then it was time for my daughter's school parade. The wind was much stronger this time around. The sun was high in the sky. Instead of our car being the only one in the empty lot, this time there were several and people lined up on the sidewalks. Everyone was mindful of keeping the distance. The kids were so full of excitement. You could feel the electricity from their anticipation all along the street. From our vantage point, we could see the school and when the parade began to roll out of the parking lot onto the street. The fire trucks were blowing horns, police sirens, car horns, and shouting all along the street. This parade was harder for me. Harder for my daughter. As Committee Chair for the PTO, I had spent a lot of time at this school, a lot of time talking to teachers and the other parents. Deep in my heart I knew this was a farewell of sorts.

As the last car passed us my daughter asked if we could see it again, so we hopped into the van and headed over to another neighborhood. We found a place to park and took up a spot in the island between the two streets. I was across the street from fellow PTO members and one previous PTO member. It was great to see them, but not like I thought it should be. Soon the parade was coming towards us and once again we watched those teachers roll by with joy on their faces. Again my heart felt heavy and my normally talkative daughter was quiet. Upon returning home, we called it a day.

This week were once again given a new learning platform, but this one actually gives us more control over our schedule and the time we put into it. We still have the Google meets, which is getting easier as the days go by. Today we learned that in all probability we won't return to finish out this school year. My time with the two PTOs is nearly done. I am deeply saddened that my last few months here will be spent in my home away from those who brighten my day. The great conversations and laughter and Starbucks. It is what it is and I know that this too shall pass.