I'm Looking for Someone to Hold My Hand, Anyone?

I believe that I am a person who can rationalize situations and see people for who they are. I feel that I am a fair person and that I can (if I choose) give a person a second chance.

People are almost never what you think. I discovered that the other day.

I don’t see people as clearly as I once did. I discovered that the other day.

I’m bothered.

Let me start by saying that I have had so many fast changes in the past week that I think my ability to size up my environment and the people in it has been dulled. (I’ll write about that at a later date).

I have always had this ability or sense about me that can see people. My husband would come home from work and tell me about this person or that and I could tell him what their angle was. Almost always I was right. If I felt that someone wasn’t honest or they seemed shifty, I usually steered clear.

I’m getting old because I missed a really big one. I’m not upset that I did, I am upset that it bothers me.

As you know, we are moving. We have been working on the plans for a home with a local builder. Actually it is his sales rep. Nice guy but I will say something in the beginning made me feel that he was strange. I ignored it because he had something that we needed….a home. He doesn’t seem to be the brightest star in the sky and that concerned me because I am viewing this home as my “forever home until my kids move out” kind of home. This is an important move.

I’ll spare you the long drawn out story. As it turns out the sales rep is a sex offender. How we found out was purely accidental. He doesn’t know that we know and really, it doesn’t matter. We have business with him and nothing more. When our business is concluded, we will part ways and life will go on. In the past my initial response would have given him the benefit of the doubt. I would have thought “poor guy, probably hooked up with a girl when he was young and didn’t know her age.” Not this time. My reaction was, where are my kids when we are doing our business. My gut instantly told me to shield my babies and protect them with my life. I know, dramatic but that is the honest truth. I realized that and told myself to step back and look at the situation.

Without sharing too much of this man’s business, his crime wasn’t that clear cut. He was old enough to know better, he hid, he was hunted and he did jail time. There was a newspaper article.

I am bothered. Is that how I am supposed to be? I don’t know because I have never knowingly encountered a situation like this. I will never let on that I know, but I know.

He has a right to work. He is married and needs to provide. But still, my stomach turns. He is different now. He is someone who did something, that is public knowledge, repulsive and vile. He is a sex offender. He knew better.

More drama here.

I scanned my memory and wondered if he shook my kids hands, if I left them alone for a moment (I had to potty once), or if he looked at my kids in an inappropriate way. The answers are no. I am overreacting, right? He has been quite the opposite. I even made a comment that he must not be around kids much because he doesn’t know how to interact with them. Looking back, he has created a distance and I believe that is a good thing.

I am upset with myself. I do give second chances, not thirds. I am finding that I don’t want to give this guy a second chance. That’s not fair of me and I try to be fair. What is wrong with me? Maybe because his crime happened in the recent past, maybe the nature of the events. I don’t know, but I do know that I can’t not see what he did when I see him. How do I look past that? At first I thought that we needed to find another builder but really my problem isn’t with the builder, just his employee. I wonder if he even knows. Shame on him if he doesn’t.

In my never-ending quest to figure out who I am after all that I have been through, I am finding that I have changed. How could I not? I’m not sure how I feel about it either. Is the above response typical of a mom? I wish someone would tell me because I lost the only person who would say, “Carole that’s just part of being a mom.” I am finding that when I lost my mom, I lost my way. Maybe I never knew my way from the start. Maybe I counted on my mom to hold my hand and take me where I needed to go. I don’t know the answer. She does but she can’t tell me. My questions remain, “Who am I? Am I a normal mom? Am I crazy? Am I borrowing trouble?” Wish I knew, or do I?

I’m a mess, a work in progress. Wonder if I will ever be complete.

I realize that I have spilled someone’s secret here. That wasn’t my intention and I do apologize. What this has all brought up inside me are questions about myself. I am afraid that I have become unforgiving and  judgmental. This guy is just trying to earn a living. I happen to know his secret. I can’t un-know it now. How do I separate that secret from the business that has yet to be completed? Knowledge is power. Sure is, but sometimes knowing is confusing. 

http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/evamckinney/KeeptheMemoryAlive

How Do You Clean Your Ears?

It always seems that when I am tired, stressed or just plain overwhelmed, I long for a hug from my mom. These past few days have been like that. I still can’t really wrap my brain around her absence. It just doesn’t seem possible. 

But I don’t want to write about that. My goal for the time being is to turn my thoughts around and eliminate negativity. Not that missing my mom is negative, it just isn’t a good place for me to sit. I am trying to be positive. I am trying to have faith. I read the other day that faith takes practice. I am practicing, I am making progress.

I think I will write about my kids, they make me happy and they are always good for a perky story.

In our house, we don’t watch a lot of what we call regular television. We watch channels that show kid shows. For the most part if there isn’t something that they can learn, then we don’t watch. No Sponge Bob, no teenage love story shows and nothing with shooting. Mostly Nickjr and Disney Junior. I have noticed recently that one of these channels has started to show commercials. I like a good ad, but I really like not having them on in between Team Umizoomi and Bubble Guppies. I can’t say that I watch these shows, but they are on and I hear them. So, when a commercial comes on it stops me. Most of them are for kid related things, you know shoes that light up, games, movies and gimmicky kind of things.

Indulge me for a moment while I tell a side story. I promise it is related.

My daughter seems to have itchy ears. There isn’t anything wrong with them, they just seem to get a little dry and itch. Most people would scratch their ear and go on. Not my little girl. 

Let me pause here to add a disclaimer. I do not promote the insertion of cotton swabs into any orifice of any kind on any living thing. However, I am one of those who uses them to clean ears and occasionally to retrieve a stubborn booger from my child’s nose. Always with the statement that these are only to be touched by grownups, not kids. We do endorse the “nothing smaller than your elbow should be put into an ear” belief. At least as far as my kids go.

Back to my daughter’s itchy ears. Usually once a day she exclaims that her ears itch and she can’t scratch it. It frustrates her because as she says, “I can’t get my elbow to my ear to itch it.” If you will, just visualize a beautiful little four-year-old trying to make her elbow go into her ear. Yes, it is that cute. She has decided that when they do itch, they are dirty and I must get a swab and clean them out. I usually do and she is on her way.

Back to my original story, commercials. 

It was a normal morning, I can’t say what the kids were watching on tv, but I do know commercials were being run. This time, they weren’t kid commercials. 

My daughter is comical, but when she is serious, it is definitely time to listen. She has a way of explaining things that make you stop, watch and listen. She uses her hands to make her points and if you aren’t listening, she will let you know.

On this particular morning she came running into the room where I was and she had her serious look on her face. This is the gist of our conversation:

“Mom, we need to get that thing that was on tv.”

“What thing.”

“The WaxVac.”

“The what?!”

“The WaxVac. You put it in your ear and it cleans all of the dirt out so they won’t itch. It’s on the tv. Can we get it?”

Keep in mind that she was using hand gestures as she spoke. It was really too funny to comment on. We just stood there and laughed. 

It wasn’t long before we saw the commercial again. Sure enough, the Wax Vac sucks out the ear wax so you don’t have to jam a swab so far in that you puncture your eardrum. Look it up, that’s their bit. The commercial is really funny, but I am wondering why it is being played in between kid shows. Their right I guess. It does create some interesting conversations in our house. For example, my son now knows that Lysol will kill 99% of all germs, or something like that. They also believe slippers that move when you walk are genius and Barbie DVDs are cutting edge. I’m not complaining, I loved the commercials when I was a kid. For me it was K-tel, anything with a catchy ditty and the Budweiser commercials (the horses were so pretty). It’s a new generation and a new set of commercials. Oh change is hard.

I keep writing about my progress. I am proud of my progress. Today, I showed it to you. I started out kind of slow and on the verge of a tear or two and then I suddenly turned it around. 

I am making positive progress.

I miss my mom each and every second of every day. I don’t believe that will ever go away. I am learning what methods work for me so that I don’t let it take me over. 

I would like to thank my kids for keeping me in the real world. Amazing how they do it. I would also like to thank WaxVac. I won’t buy your product, too creepy, but it is things like this that remind me to not take life so seriously and to always find humor. 

On Monday I am asking everyone to ask one person for a dollar. Finding a million people is turning out to be a bigger challenge than I thought. So I am asking you to ask one person, two if you are adventurous, to give you a dollar to help fight pancreatic cancer. When you get that dollar, click on the link below and donate it. Just one dollar.

 http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/evamckinney/KeeptheMemoryAlive

If You Are Ever Broke, Come See Me

As I sit here glaring at my computer, I am struck at how emotional I still get when I start to write. Eight months, it has been eight months. Today is my birthday and it will forever be the same number as the one of my mom’s death. Not the same month, just number. This is the first time in my life that I will not get a call from her. It usually went something like this. “Hi mom! Hi Carole, Happy Birthday! Thank you. Have you had a good day? Oh it’s been alright, mostly just another day. No it’s not another day. It’s your birthday.” Well that conversation won’t take place again. Listen to me, I am wallowing aren’t I? I said I wouldn’t do that anymore. Still, I am sad today. 

My day started at 5:30am when my daughter hopped into my bed and slept across me. My son followed about an hour and a half later. It followed with a special gift from both and cards from everyone. I cried. It’s 9am and they have plans but I’m not supposed to know. I wonder if I tried as hard as they are to make my mom’s birthday special. 

My family wasn’t poor but we weren’t well off. We made it through each month and we had everything we needed and a few extras. My dad worked out of town and my mom went to school. I can say this about her because I saw her every day. She worked so hard at everything. She was responsible for it all. I was a busy-body so I had my ears in everyone’s business. I can remember hearing my parent’s talk about money. The words “we are broke” were said a time or two. Now as a kid, you hear things the way you hear them. You take things literally and you carry things differently in your heart. I believed at that moment that my family was penniless. I believed that one morning I was going to wake up and my parents were going to tell me that we were going to have to live in a tent or something. Have I ever mentioned that I have the ability to blow things way out of proportion? It’s a gift.

Back to my story. 

I was and still am an asker. I ask for just about everything. People would go to lunch with me because I could always manage to ask and get a free desert. If you don’t ask, you may miss out on something. I asked for every toy, every game and every “thing” that came around. I was told no a lot. At least that is my memory. This one particular year, after I heard my parents declare that we were broke, I decided to do something. I couldn’t stand to see my mom sad and I felt that she must be sad because we didn’t have any money. No matter what, I was going to put a smile on her face that day.

I went into my room and started looking for something that I could wrap up and give her for her birthday. I went to this party once and one of the favors was a pin of a circus seal. Nothing special, but for some reason, I kept it. I decided that was “the” gift. I wrapped it up using the only wrapping paper that I could find….Kleenex. I even used tape. I waited until the right moment, usually when it was just my mom and me, and I gave it to her. By the way, I’ve left an important part out. Just wait.

Like most moms, she smiled that smile and acted so surprised that I had a gift. I never felt so proud because I knew what was in it. She opened slowly only to build suspense. When she reached the gift, she was totally surprised. In that little white tissue was my seal pin and all the coins I had at the time (which was never much). She had a look of confusion on her face when she asked why I was giving her my money. I puffed out my chest and smiled my best smile and I said,  “this is so you will never be broke again.” That was one of the biggest hugs I ever received.

I will never forget that day. It is my most special memory of her special day. 

Before my mom left, she started cleaning out things and giving a few things away. Old clothes, books, things of mine that I had saved and other things. She had a jewelry box that she kept in her drawer. I always looked through it. It was in a drawer that had scarves, some hose and when she wore perfume, a small bottle was tucked away in the back. That drawer smelled like my mom. As we were going through trunks and things, I asked where that jewelry box was. She didn’t know what I was talking about. So, I went to the old dresser and opened that drawer. There in the back was the jewelry box. I pulled it out, opened it up and there was the pin and the coins that I gave my mom so many years ago. She save them. They were in a little envelope.

My mom save my special gift. 

I took the whole box to her and showed her what I was talking about. She opened the envelope, smiled and said “You told me to keep these so I would never be broke. Well I did and I never was. Now I am giving them back. This is so you will never be broke.”

My mom died several weeks later. 

So I am closing with two pictures. I hope they give you a little joy just like they did when I gave them to my mom and just like they did when she gave them back. 

http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/evamckinney/KeeptheMemoryAlive

If It Doesn't Say 'Oven Safe' Don't Put It In the Oven

Sometimes when I sit down at the computer I just don’t have anything to say. After a few minutes of rambling, I find out that I did. I’m hoping that this is one of those times. 

We have started a new year. No surprise, it does after all happen every year. I’m not that big of New Year’s events. I don’t know why really. I’ve read and heard all of the reflections, regrets, good news and bad news from people. I don’t do that and I never have, at least I don’t think I have. Usually I am asleep before 10:30 on New Year’s Eve and the next day is just another day filled with traditional food that I don’t really like. I’m a boring, hum-drum kinda gal. Oh well, it works for me.

This New Year’s Eve was no different. Only this time I felt sort down. Like I said, I don’t typically reflect but this time all I could think of was now when I am asked when she left, I have to say “last year.” That makes it seem like a long time ago.

I said I was tired of grief and I am. I said I would no longer be held hostage by it or my sadness. I am firm in that statement and I think I am doing a really good job. I can’t however, control the moments when I just think of her and miss her. Those moments are more frequent than I let on these days. I think because Monday is by my mom’s terms, “a special day to her.” I always said that it was just another day and her reply was always the same. Monday is my birthday. Whoohoo for me! Happy Birthday to me! Blah, blah, blah. Not so special this year. That phone call won’t come. I’m down about that, but I’m not going to dwell in that place. Still, I’m sad.

When I was little, my mom always made my birthday’s special. If I was interested in a particular thing, she would make a cake that reflected that. I’ve had clown cakes, cartoon character cakes and sometimes they were just plain old cakes. All were vanilla and almost all were made by her hands. Always a special gift from just her. That carried over into my adult years. I could never wait to see what special thing my mom found for me. She always just knew.  One year, she was sick, a cold or something. So I think that my dad and I made my cake. We messed that thing up pretty bad. The cake was good, but we had no idea how to decorate. I think it was white frosting with our version of blue flowers. Really just big ol’ blobs of blue frosting. My mom was upset that she wasn’t able to make it. I understood, but that cake was ugly. Now this is the part where if she were here she would tell me to stop telling tales.

These are the accounts as I remember them. In this particular house, we had sugar ants. Not a few, a lot. If we didn’t clean the counters really good, they would be covered the next morning. The bread lived in a plastic container, everything that would normally sit out was put in the refrigerator. The pantry smelled like mint and everything tasted like mint. I think it was supposed to ward them off. We had little solutions of poison mixed with apple butter all over the place. It was like we lived on a giant mound. My dad is the “I can fix it myself” kind of dad. Drove my mom nuts. He couldn’t seem to get rid of these ants. 

I know what you are thinking. You are thinking that we left the cake out and the ants ate it. Well, you happen to be wrong. That would make too much sense. One of the tricks that my mom used to outsmart the little pests was to put things in the microwave and oven. I’m guessing that something was already in the microwave so my mom put the big plastic container with my globby cake in the oven. Nothing out of the ordinary, it was how we lived at the time. After a day or so, my mom was back to normal and it was time to cook dinner. So like any normal person, she turned the oven on to preheat. I wish I could remember what she was cooking. All I remember is the smell of melting plastic. We all smelled it. The problem was, we weren’t sure where it was coming from. Suddenly my mom reached for the oven and let out a really loud “OH NO!!!” There in the preheated oven was my cake covered with clear melted plastic. It was a sight. She pulled it out and immediately looked at me with a sad expression. She had ruined my birthday cake. Not only was she not able to make it, but she melted it. As far as she was concerned, she couldn’t apologize enough. I on the other hand, I couldn’t stop laughing. You see, my mom didn’t mess up too many times. She wasn’t a perfectionist by definition, but she was “practically perfect in every way.” She’s my mom. My mom did it all. So, as sad as it is to say, when she made a boo boo, we kind of thought it was funny. She usually laughed too. This cake story went down in history. It was retold many times all at her expense. She said she would make me another cake too and as I retell this story I realized that she never did. I forgive her, the story was priceless.

So, this birthday will be bitter sweet. If all goes according to plan, I am going to spend it with myself. It is my personal policy that no matter where I work, I will never work on my day. My plan is to go to the movies, eat lunch and shop a bit. If my mom was here I would ask her to go with me. It was always my mom’s special day because, “it was the day I had you.” 

So it seems that I had a little bit to say. Nothing profound, no breakthrough, no words of wisdom. At the end of the day, I guess I can always find something to say.

http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/evamckinney/KeeptheMemoryAlive