My Grand Illusions

Dear Mom and Dad

Dear Mom and Dad,

The last week in particular has been stressful, scary, sad, depressing, infuriating and a tangled mess of emotions. Derick's not doing well and keeps making these choices that makes me fear for his future as a productive member of society. He can't see it even though it's right in front of his face. He can't see that he's making decisions that, day by day, are determining his fate as an adult. Isn't that the way? Kids can't see the future so they make choices that only impact that very minute or that very day. Next week? Next year? In ten years? Nope, there's a very large screen in place that keeps kids in the dark, at least some (many?) of them.

I was a kid like that. Making all these stupid, ridiculous choices that changed the course of my life forever. Oh man, you guys, I'm sorry I put you through all that. If you're even half as anxiety ridden as I am then holy god I feel terrible for being such a selfish kid with no regard that all you guys ever really wanted for me was to be happy and healthy and to succeed in life. It's such a simple thing and I couldn't grasp it. Derick can't seem to either.

When you're a teenager you really just can't see the ramifications of your actions and when you do catch a glimpse of them you push them aside because who really cares, it's YOUR life and YOUR problems, not your parents, right? WRONG. A thousand times wrong.

I'm sorry for calling you names and screaming things I wouldn't scream to my worst enemy. I'm sorry I ran away and scared you half to death. I'm sorry I did all those terrible, selfish things. Neither of you deserved it, not one single time and oh boy do I feel terrible about it all.

I bet you guys know this, because parents really are smarteven though I didn't think so then, but I felt so safe and secure that I had your unconditional love that it felt like no matter how awful I was to you both I ALWAYS knew you'd have my back and be there if I really needed you. And you were! ALWAYS! It's amazing that you didn't give up me. Actually, it's not amazing. It's exactly what I knew you'd always do. You aren't the kind of parents that gave up on us kids even when we surely didn't deserve an ounce of compassion.

I'm so fortunate that I had/have you as my parents, really I am. I know that I can make it through this really rough patch with Derick and I know that we'll be ok because I have such a great example to follow.

So, thank you and I'm sorry. I couldn't have asked for a better set of parents, not in my wildest dreams. Thank you for being there for me always and forever. If I had a medal or a zillion dollars or the greatest gift I could find I'd give it to you both.

You deserve it 1000%

Love,

Kristie (your favorite daughter, HAHA)

(Look at them all dolled up for a ballroom dancing competition!)

Having a teenager is a challenge of epic proportions

Derick's never been the best in school and he really doesn't like going. He's much like I was when I was a kid. The difference is that he's been tested and it's shown that he's super smart and has the capacity to do excellent in school if he wants to. The 'if he wants to' part is the key. He's definitely capable, no question.

I sent him to live with his dad a few years ago because he was struggling in school and I thought a change of scenery, schools and parents might do him a world of good. Whew boy, was I ever wrong. He moved back home with me this summer and he should have been entering his junior year in high school but because he's so far behind he's still taking freshman and sophomore classes. Some classes he's taking for a 3rd time.

Alright, I thought, we can fix this. Derick was accepted into an accelerated high school that would help him catch up and get back on track and I was so excited for his opportunity. All he had to do was pass his classes for one semester and he'd be ushered right in. He failed 5 of the 7 classes that semester and I never heard from the accelerated school again. You have to be accepted to this school and they don't want kids who don't want to be there. My excitement was squashed.

Derick has had all his privileges taken from him for a while and he said that if he only had all of his privileges he'd work hard to keep them. I call bullshit but OK, let's try it out. Now? He's trying to tell me that a 67 is passing (it's not) and doesn't understand why I'd need to talk to someone about his grades when he swears he's passing. I'm not a dummy and it was quite easy to ask the school counselor if 67 was passing.

Two weeks ago I was alerted to the fact that he was skipping his 4th period class to go to lunch for a second time each day. His excuse was that he was passing that particular class and he was afraid if he kept going he'd screw it up and fail. WTF. What a lame excuse, kid. He'd skipped 9 times that I know of. I was obviously so upset and he said he wouldn't do it again. But. I got a call yesterday saying he's not gone to his 4th period class still. He's been skipping again and now the school is considering calling in a police officer to talk to Derick about the reality that if he's considered truent that he faces juvenile jail time, community service or a fine (that I get to pay). When I talked to the school yesterday I encouraged this meeting. I love this kid more than anything and I think NOT getting into his head how serious these choices are would be the worst thing I could do. He's got to understand the consequences of these choices.

It's hard being a parent, the hardest job in the universe. Why do people chooseto do it? Because at the end of the day Derick is a smart, funny, sweet kid and I adore him most of the time. He's witty and has a silly laugh and knows more about music than I ever did. He calls me mommy sometimes and thanks me on Facebook for bringing him Taco Bell. He's a good kid who is making bad choices and I choose to kick him in the ass until he realizes he's better than this.

Derick, if you ever read this, know that I love you and that's why I yell at you and that's why I want you to get it together and be a productive member of society. I'll do almost anything to help you succeed I just can't do anything until you're ready first.

My little vampire

I woke up yesterday morning to this:

 
My kid clearly ran into Donnie and became a soul-sucking zapper. Either that or he's discovered The Mary Jane.

Not really, of course. He's just got pink eye but my God he looked terrible.

Now he's much better and his eyes are less fiery and evil looking. He's nearly back to his old self.

 

Let's hope that no one else gets his eye junk. I don't want people thinking I toked up before work.

A post about why it sucks to get older

Y'all, the number one reason it sucks to get older is the recovery time when you injure yourself. Honestly, I though perhaps I was just imagining it but no, it's true. First I noticed that my bruises were more of an angry purple color instead of a lovely shade of lilac. Then I noticed that those angry bruises were lingering around for much longer than usual. Oh boy, I'm showing all of my 33 years, aren't I?

A few weeks ago I went mountain biking* with a friend and I flew off my bike and landed, face-first, into the ground. There was some blood, dirt up my nose and some cuts here and there. Somehow I managed to hit a tree stump and instead of going over it, that rude tree stump just stopped my bike in an instant. So my lower belly landed on my handle bars and my face landed on the ground and I was a hot mess. But, as with every fall, I was laughing because how cool is it to have an injury from mountain biking! All my teeth were still there and the blood loss was minor so I got back on my bike and kept on going.

The next day was when I knew for sure that I'd fallen on my face. Right on my left eyebrow I had a goose egg** that no amount of eyebrow pencil would cover, my left cheek was so tender to the touch that I opted for no makeup for days because it hurt too much, my lip was swollen in a way that didn't make me look like Angelina, my lower belly had a bruise the size of a orange on it and I had some of those angry purple bruises on my legs. I was a sight to behold!

I'm still recovering from this crash and it's been weeks! The bruises are just now turning that greenish/yellow shade. My cheek and eyebrow are finally not swollen and I can apply makeup without wincing. I'm astounded at how long it's taking to feel back to normal again. The worst was over, I thought.

Ha Ha. Not so fast, Kristie. My newest injury happened last Wednesday. A dear friend of mine is trying out for Roller Derby so she's been practicing a lot lately at the local skating rink. I happen to own my own pair of skates and I skate OK so I go with her on occasion. I can't remember the last time I fell, honestly, I really can't. I can do cross-overs and go from skating forward to backward with relatively no problems. I can stop just fine and have pretty good balance. In short, I feel fairly comfortable on skates. I'm no fancy skater but I can hold my own, so I was totally shocked when I was rolling my way over to set my purse in a locker to have my feet fly out from underneath me and land squarely on my ass. The pain was so bad at one point I thought I was going to throw up.

It's been over a week now and I can finally sleep and bend over. I still can't lay on my back or sit squarely on a chair for long periods of time. I can't run and only just managed to walk on the treadmill going 2.5 mph. It's honestly been a pain in the ass. Pun intended! I am still in shock that falling like that could injure a person so much. Wy is it taking so long to heal? Oh yes, it's because of that thing called aging.

I suppose I shouldn't complain too much. I get the chance to be active and go out with my friends. I have the means to own a bike and a pair of skates. I'm not so injured that I won't go mountain biking or roller skating again. In fact I have plans to go biking this weekend. This recovery period sure does blow, though.

My mom says I should take up a less aggressive activity. I suggest knitting but then it was pointed on that I'd probably sit on the knitting needle and I hate to say it but I think she's probably right! Perhaps watching paint dry is the way to go. Ha!

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*I know I said I went mountain biking and technically that's what it's called but we don't have a single mountain in this part of Texas. We might have an ant hill, but that's about it. But still, some of the trails around here are brutal. Hence how I landed on my face.  

**Once, my oldest son (when he was maybe 6) got a goose egg on his head and I had never seen or heard of them before and I panicked thinking his brain was about to explode through his forehead. Thankfully a boyfriend at the time was there to reassure me his brain was fine.

Weight loss : take two

I've gained some weight these last few months from all the traveling and eating out and not caring if my pants fit or not. Last week I got on the scale, jumped immediately off, threw my arms in the air all dramatic like and decided this has GOT TO STOP. I weighed more than I had in the last two years, 21 pounds more. When you're a short 5'4" that's a lot of poundage.

I worked really, really hard to lose the baby weight after Jackson was born and by the time he was a year old I had nearly lost it all and I maintained that weight loss (within 5-7 pounds) until these last few months. So. What changed? I've been fairly active, hiking and bike riding so it's not that I'm not exercising on a regular basis. It's that I've been eating like I'm in some sort of competition to see who can shove the most food in their mouth.

I know what the problem is, too. It's a combination of boredom and loneliness. I get bored at night with watching the same tv shows, cleaning the same things up over and over again. sitting on the same sofa, etc. The loneliness is the hardest to admit. Sometimes I love having my own time to just me, I need it. But sometimes I wish someone was with me to watch the same tv shows and help me clean the same things over and over again. Also, I have problems saying no to food. It's there to be eaten! I reason. There are starving people everywhere that would love to have this! I can't let it go to waste! It tastes so good and lord knows I'll never be able to eat it ever again. We've all said these things, right?

Last week, when I had my scale moment, I decided things are changing. I know I can this, I've done it before. I schemed and planned it to perfection. I was going to either count points or calories using either a paid subscription on-line or one of my handy two iPhone apps, I would have a regimented workout schedule that included cardio and strength in perfect balance with each other and never eat dessert ever again. Then I smacked myself and realized that I just don't work that way. I get all ravenous when I put such crazy demands on myself. Instead, I'm trying something similar to what I did last time. I'm eating well and exercising. And wouldn't you know it? It's working. DUH. I'm down nearly 6 pounds from last week and my pants feel better. They aren't pulling at the seams as tightly, threatening to explode with every step.

It's very simple what I've been doing I just have to actually do it every single day:

1. I happened to get a free purse-sized notebook from BlogHer from a blogger who didn't want it and I've been using it to log everything I eat and what exercise I do. Sometimes I write down the calories, sometimes I don't. But I log everything I eat, even if it's two cashews.
2. I never eat till I'm full. Ever. This is a particular downfall for me. I will eat and eat and eat and then eat some more because it's my last meal, right? I have to tell myself that I will eat again, never fear!
3. I eat dessert if I feel like it. Last night I went out to dinner and ate only half of my meal and had a small dessert and I was plenty satisfied. Sure I could have piled away all of my dinner and had dessert but that goes back to my#2 pitfall. I walked out of that restaurant holding my leftover food in a container feeling all sorts of proud that I did it. I conquered my brain and listened to my stomach instead.
4. Keep on moving. I've moved away from running as much and now I'm really into bike riding. I adore taking my bike to local trails and mountain biking. When the weather doesn't permit, or if I need to do something different I head to the gym and get my sweat on. I do some sort of physical activity nearly every day of the week. (Also, that means I can eat a bit more!)

It's SO EASY and I'm kicking myself that I haven't been doing this lately. I know that I come from a long line of obese family members and I know that means I'll always have to work at this. I've just got to get a handle on what I'm wiling and able to do on a daily basis for the rest of my life. It's a constant struggle, though.

Do you struggle with your weight? What system works for you?

It was bound to happen

I really like grey hair. It think it looks distinguished and worldly on most people if they care for it properly. My dad has had grey hair since he was in his early 20's. A few months ago he tinted it a shade of brown to lessen the grey and I just didn't like it. He looks sophisticated and handsome with his grey hair that's dashed with some white and black in the mix. My grandma also has grey hair and she keeps it short and nice styled and it looks nice on her, too. I think most of my friends have had a few grey hairs here and there and I think we've mostly accepted it as a sign of age. It's bound to happen, right?

I discovered my first grey hair when I was about 25. It was just sitting on my head mocking me and basically giving me the finger. So I did the only logical thing, I plucked it right on out and laughed manically while doing it. I don't believe in the whole "pluck on grey hair and 100 will grow in it's place". That seems ridiculous to me so I had no issues with plucking that one stray grey hair.

I've also colored my hair since the beginning of time, basically. I can't remember the last time I didn't have an alternate to my own hair color on my head, 1994, perhaps? It's just what I do and what my mother does and what most women seem to do that I know. It's a way to enhance my natural color or sometimes just make it something different completely. It also serves the purpose of covering up the pesky greys that started coming in more and more frequently as time has gone on. Whatevs, I thought. I'll just color my hair, cover the few errant grey hairs and go on with life.

UNTIL LAST WEEK.

You see, last week I colored my hair. It was definitely time. you could see enough shiny silver strands to warrant a trip to Target to get a new hair color. I choose a dark, dark brown. The same shade I've been drawn to lately. I used to be on a red-hair phase and although I'd kill for red hair it never looked right on me. So, I picked up my box of color, came home, mixed all the lovely chemicals together and applied them to each strand of hair as I've done a thousand times before. I waited the appropriate amount of time, washed my hair and proceeded with my day. The next day I saw grey hairs. LOTS OF THEM. The color didn't cover my grey hair. I may have broken out into a dry-heave and a rash just thinking about it. I'm only 32, I'm not supposed to have grey hair that people can see yet. I'm supposed to be able to cover it up and be done with it.

That's when I realized I needed the extra-super-dooper-double-strength-long-lasting-pays-my-mortgage(ahem)-kicks-ass-and-takes-names-later grey cover up hair dye. I assume this exists and now I just have to find it. So, if you see me in Target and I'm frantically looking at hair dyeing options with a look of terror on my face, you know why. I'm looking for hair dye that kicks ass and takes names.

Losing pets

In two weeks I've lost two of my pets and let me tell you, it sucks hardcore. In both instances I feel like I could have or should have done things differently. I don't live my life with much regret but I do analyze how and why I did things and what the outcome was. In the case of my cats that I lost within two weeks of each other, I am going to have to come to terms with the fact that there just wasn't a whole lot I could do even though my heart tells me otherwise.

Raven was my little runner cat. I found her outside my oldest son's daycare around 6 years ago. She was just a small black kitten with a dirty yellow collar and bright yellow eyes. She was sitting under the awning to protect herself from the cold and the rain so of course I couldn't leave her there. I ended up adopting her after trying to find her family with no luck. She was obviously a cat that wanted to be outside, she practically craved it. She got out a handful of times but always, always came back. 

Two weeks ago I thought my dog escaped from the backyard so I went out the front door to see if I could catch her before she went too far and in the confusion Raven escaped. I knew she'd be fine so I didn't stress about her getting out too much, I was more worried about the dog because she will run and run and run just for the fun of it. Jackson and I got in the car and canvased the neighborhood trying to find our dog with no luck. We ended up finding her in the neighbors yard behind us. After all that I forgot about Raven until the next afternoon. I wasn't too worried about her until that night. I must have gone outside a half-dozen times trying to find her with no luck. The very next day I drove down one of the main roads to get to my house and I saw a black cat with the exact same unmistakable fluffy tail on the side of the road. I lived in denial for a few days until I couldn't ignore it anymore. I was obviously distraught and kicking myself that I forgot she was outside, who forgets their cat is outside?! I only hope she had fun on her jaunt outside where she really wanted to be. Maybe now she's roaming cat heaven outside. I sadly don't have any pictures of Raven that I can find. I know I have some but there are tucked away in a scrapbook.

After losing Raven less than a week before I noticed that my other cat, Sugar, was acting different. She was relieving herself right outside of the litter box, which is not like her. She'd done it a few times over the last few months but now it was an every day event. I'd also noticed that she'd lost weight. Sugar was a very, very fluffy and a very, very large cat and she wasn't particularly a lap cat so I didn't think much of her losing a few pounds. She wasn't acting sick so I wasn't particularly worried. When I got the diagnosis of liver failure I was a bit floored. We were trying a round of medication that seemed to be working. She was eating and drinking and acting mostly normal for the last 4 days.

Then yesterday she took a dramatic turn for the worse. Sugar spent most of the day at the vet's office getting fluids and some rest but by about 4 PM the doctor called to tell me she probably wouldn't make it through the night. Fortunately I was able to go say my goodbyes and spend some time holding her. I wasn't prepared to say goodbye, who ever is ready for something like that, but I was grateful that I had a good doctor who cared about my cat like she was her own.

I had forgotten how much it hurts to lose a pet. My defense mechanism is to shut all that stuff out until something happens. I just kept thinking that I had lost 50% of my animals in the short span of two weeks and how much it just really, really sucks.

I'm going to miss Raven and her fierce determination to be outside where she knew she belonged. I'll miss her shiny, black coat and those gorgeous piercing yellow eyes. I'm going to miss Sugar and her tail that was as fluffy as a feather duster. I'll miss her weaving her way through my legs while I walked. I'm just going to miss them both. This just sucks.

Hug your kitties and dogs and other animals extra hard today, please.

That one time my Mom was right*

Teenagers are basically stupid. They do things that their adult selves absolutely cringe at doing. Recently I had been lamenting about my horrible taste in men and how the majority of them suck ass and I'm doomed to be single forever. It was then that I remembered, or rather was reminded, about the boy I met as a teenager who murdered someone and I kept on talking to him as if he was my one and only true love. See? Stupid.

My best friend and I used to be mall rats in every sense of the word. Her Mother worked a store in the mall so she'd bring us with her and we'd literally hang out, buying nothing, for hours upon hours. We met a slew of characters that I just really need to chronicle here for the sake of all Mother's who let their teenage daughters hang out in the mall. IT'S A DON'T, if you hadn't guessed where I was going.

I met a boy named Jeff one day at the mall. He was scruffy and the epitome of the "bad boy". I wasn't necessarily into boys like that but he paid attention to me and that was all it took. He was with his friends and they were obnoxious, annoying and had a car they could drive. I remember driving around the mall in the bed of a truck with Jeff. We never went anywhere but the thrill of being with a boy and leaving the mall and obviously disobeying our parents was so exciting. I never saw Jeff away from the mall that I recall. He was there all the time and so was I. It was our place.

I'd known him about a month I would guess and I'd seen him a handful of times and talked to him on the phone plenty. He was my mall boyfriend. All I did was talk about him and how cute he was. One evening I got my first ever collect call from the local jail and it was Jeff. Despite the collect call charges I was told I'd have to pay, I accepted the call. Jeff told me he was in trouble for stealing a motorcycle that he had actually paid for and it was just a big misunderstanding. Of course that's what happened and I felt just awful for him. What a tragic set of circumstances he was in.

We wrote back and forth for about a month and he called a few more times, collect of course. I had a friend drive me down to the jail at one point to collect his personal belongings. I got his wallet with his driver's license and, oddly enough, his birth certificate. I was Jeff's rock, the only person he could turn to in his time of need and OH MAN that was all I needed to hear.

After some time had passed and my Mom got a few phone bills with these collect charges she asked me what was going on so I told her and I expected her to be just like me, supportive and trusting. Turns out she was the total opposite and I was angry with her when she said I needed to stop talking to this boy. Whatever, I thought, she doesn't know what she's talking about. I made sure, from then on, to check the mail before she got home so I could hide my letters from him.

Well, my Mother's no dummy, even though I could have sworn she was at the time. She found out about the letters and hauled my ass down to the District Attorney's office to talk with the investigator on Jeff's case. I knew I'd be proving my Mother wrong and the DA would tell me Mother to calm down and get a grip. Turns out that I was the one who was about to be proven wrong.

Jeff was accused of murdering a young man who'd just gotten a motorcycle and then he and his friend stole the motorcycle. They hog-tied this young man and left him in the woods for some random lady riding her horse to find. I saw the pictures of this young man. I remember exactly what he was wearing. His hair was that orange-red color, he had pale skin and freckles. He wore the quintessential cowboy outfit of Wranglers jeans, brown worn-in cowboy boots and a plaid western-style shirt. Minus the being hog-tied and being dead part, he was someone I could picture seeing at a local downtown Fort Worth bar.

This was my first experience of seeing a dead body and it affected me like you can probably imagine. My little teenage bubble was shattered. The boy I thought was really into me, wasn't. The trust I extended to another human being was shattered. The realization that someone took another person's life for something as trivial as a motorcycle was just too much for me to understand, still is actually. The whole situation was just so surreal.

I never talked to Jeff again. He called a few times, collect of course, but I declined each call. He wrote a few times and then the letters stopped coming. I had to turn over the letters to the DA even though there was nothing in them that could be used. To this day I've still got his wallet with his license and birth certificate in a box somewhere on a high shelf. I still remember the photos of that man, they are in my brain forever. Those images, unfortunately, those I can't put those in a box on a high shelf. But I really wish I could.

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*My Mom has been right about much more than this. Obviously. Mom's are right more often than not.