August 29, 2008

Letting go of dreams

May I be frank here? Letting go of my, her, my, her MY dreams. Now that I've admitted it, I don't feel any better. Let me see if I can clarify.

First off, let me start off by saying that 9th grade has been tough on Chickie, mainly in the homework department. It wouldn't be half as bad right now if the school hadn't messed up her schedule, and TWO. WEEKS. LATER. finally got it straight. I will not go into details here because I want to spare you the incessant head banging and slamming my fist through the wall in the in the guidance counselor’s office. The one right next to her head. Well, the last part may not be true but suffice to say by the time we had straightened everything out I resembled a bull in a china shop with a hangover and no hair.

Now let's talk about Fay. During her visit last week the school was closed for two days. [sidenote: Fickle Fay was the hurricane, NO WAIT, tropical storm, NO WAIT, huri..trop..yes tropical storm that decided to outstay her visit. She was with us for three days.[/sidenote] Chickie had just started her new and improved (read correct) schedule that Monday. This is where all logic blew out the window. Her teachers expect her to be caught up (wait for it) by tomorrow. She has two huge tests tomorrow, five short stories to read (and be tested on) to name just a few. This does not include her everyday homework. So she's been studying, and reading and doing homework furiously.

Here is where I get to the point, for those of you who were wondering.

A few weeks ago she began talking about cutting down on her dance schedule. I fully supported that because I knew, under normal circumstances, her workload was going to be heavy. Last night she told me that she is really considering dropping dance all together. She has been rolling the idea around in her head for a while. She admitted to me that she just wanted to be a 9th grader. Dance takes up three nights a week, with a minimum of 2 1/2 hours each night. In her words she wants a life. She wants the freedom to go out for sports in school and perhaps be on the dance squad for the football team next year. She wants to join some clubs. She wants to do some volunteer work so that her college applications will be stronger (they are BIG on community service here in Georgia).

In my heart of hearts, I know that it has to be HER decision. I respect that, but can I help it if I don't like it? I mean really. This is my baby. She's so good (and no, I'm not biased, why do you ask?), and she really (or used to) enjoys it so much. She's given five years of her life to it, complete with sore muscles and blistered feet. She has sacrificed a lot. I know this in my mind but my heart does not comprehend. I loved going to her big recitals and all of the performances in between. I loved seeing her up on the stage, with her long graceful body, flowing effortlessly across the stage.

But it's not about me. It's about her. And her dreams, and wishes. I cannot enforce MY dreams on her, no matter how much I want to. She's not really losing anything by stopping. She has had five years of an unbelievable positive experience which have taught her a lot about hard work and discipline. And she has loved every minute of it.

It's time I step back and let her step forward. Let her make some of the decisions in her life. Let her be a kid. A teenager. Let her have fun. Lord help me, but it’s so hard. Am I alone here?

For now, I’ll close and give you Chickie. Just Chickie. In her bad 13 (almost 14!) year old self. The way a teenager is supposed to be. She took all of these pictures herself.

Posted by Moogie at 4:56 PM | Comments (6)

August 27, 2008

Good news!

On Monday, my birthday no less, I went in for an outpatient procedure to have a "mass" (they weren't sure what to call it) in my abdomen drained. They took out 660CCs of fluid, which equates to about a can and 3/4 of soda. At any rate, I just received the news. The fluid was completely sterile which means no cancer OR infection. After too many tests to count, we finally have the answer.

Needless to say, I am relieved. I'd say that was the best birthday present of all.

Posted by Moogie at 4:43 PM | Comments (6)

August 17, 2008

It's harder than I thought

Have you ever noticed that when you lose a loved one, people have a difficult time looking you in the eye? It's really noticeable when you have been away from work for a while and then go back. People avoid me like the plague, and while their greetings are cordial, I sense a great reluctance to be anywhere near me. I'm not sure if they think I'll break down in an inconsolable, sobbing mess at their feet or what. I have to resist the urge to shout out at them that I am the exact same person as when you last saw me. Yes, I grieve because I lost my father-in-law, but life moves forward, and I embrace it. Besides, it's what Pop would have wanted me to do. Is it hard? Yes, at times it is very difficult, but it would be nice to be able to share the memories with someone instead of watching folks duck into the nearest bathroom to avoid conversation with me.

My wonderful sister-in-law (I'll wait while you go visit her site - awesome yes?) wrote the obituary for Pop and when you read it, you can sense that she put hours of emotional effort into it, and in my communications with her, shed a lot of tears while composing it. One thing she included was a quote by Gerber Daisee and it nails my father-in-laws outlook on life to a "T". I'd like to share it with you here if I may:

"Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely and in one pretty and well preserved piece. Rather, it is to skid across the line broadside, thoroughly worn out and shouting "WOW - What A Ride!!"

When I wrote my post about the passing of Chuck, my sister-in-law communicated with me via email on her thoughts on it. She did a much better job of sharing the essence of his being than I ever could:

"So, how would you have told your Grandma how to find Dad? Here’s my take on that idea but I’d love to read yours.

Grandma, you’ll find Dad very easily. He’s the one with absolutely no social filter when speaking his mind. You’ll have no doubt about his opinions. Most likely he’ll have found Mom and not want to leave her side, he’ll be immersed in a book, writing a story, adjusting his camera for just the right photo, watching some baseball or helping out in the wood shop. Catch him if you can but you’ll have to run pretty fast! Please, let him know we miss him more than words can express but know it was his time to go on to someplace else”.

With his death, I morn the passing of a man that played an integral part of my life. A man who treated me as if I were a delicate piece of crystal. A man who loved my children and accepted all of us into his fold.

As much as it pains me to say it, I morn the chance of my husband and his middle sister to ever form a bond. Now that the parents are gone, the reason for a relationship no longer exists. I pray that I am wrong, and that they will be able to break out of the fog that separates them. I am well aware that the possibilities of this are minute, and that saddens my heart. Not just because the anger and discontent between them will keep our families from knowing one another, but it also hurts his younger sister, who longs for a united family. Who loves her brother and her sister unconditionally, complete with faults.

In grief, we must all come together and form a bond. A bond that will hold us all together and let us work through the pain together. As a family. As a unit. As a team. It is my firm belief that we need, as a family, to come together and break through the impossibly thick wall that cripples us during loss.

The knowledge that this will most likely not happen saddens my heart. I feel it crack in two, in four, in one hundred, in a billion pieces. Mainly because I know that my mother-in-law and father-in-law prayed that the family would stay together.

I sit in front of my monitor today, having to tell Chuck that it probably won't happen. I want to tell him how sorry am, because I don't have the power to change it. I don't have the power to make his children a family, a unified team that will stand up against the heaviest of grief.

And I'm so very, very sorry.

Posted by Moogie at 6:18 PM | Comments (2)

August 14, 2008

Chalk

It's all over my daughter. On her face, on her hands, on her hips, on her legs. Lord love a duck, it's even in her hair. When I commented on it, she said "Hello? I'm a gymnast mom. Chalk, blisters and sore muscles. It's what it's all about." Guess she told me (for the record, she wasn't snotty about it, just stating the facts).

My little girl. My youngest. My 10 going on 85 year old anxiety ridden, tantrum throwing worry wart. She is in gymnastics. She is my accident waiting to happen. She is fearless, and that fact alone scares me to death. People? She is in gymnastics. Where they flip and flop on the floor, and twirl around on the bars, and balance on a long beam of wood that is unbelievably thin (in my mind at least). And did I mention that they run full speed towards this thing they call a vault? Yeah, this is what causes me to drink. And raise the dose on my anti-anxiety/depression medications.

She is having a blast. Or at least she would be if she didn't have one of the meanest coaches in the world. Those are her words, not mine. He is from Russia. He is tough. Sometimes his translations get a bit mixed up and perhaps he comes off a bit harsh. My baby? She is the sensitive one. I was like that as a child, and perhaps I'm a bit like that now, only better (don't say a word Mom). So far, minus one really bad night, she has stuck with it. She continues to go back. She continues to be thrilled with each and every little thing she accomplishes.

Three hours, three days a week. Every week. My little sweaty, stinky exhausted baby girl. She is happy, and it shows. Whether or not it continues? Time will tell. But for right now? I am grateful. She is happy. It's been a long, tough road, but I think we might have found the right exit off of the freeway.

Happy Love Thursday everyone. My hope is that you enjoy your children as much as I do, and rejoice when they find the ground under their feet.

Posted by Moogie at 7:32 PM | Comments (4)

August 6, 2008

Milkin' a fish

Charles Lyon Gerlach
April 30, 1923 - July 23, 2008

Son: Watcha doing Daddy?
Dad: Milkin' a fish.

Dear Pop,

I miss you so very, very much. I know you are in a better place, and you no longer hurt, but for the most part, it doesn't help. My heart aches every time I pick up the phone to call you and tell you what one of your grandkids did, or email you pictures of them. I have to stop myself, and when I realize you are no longer here physically, it is as if my heart has imploded and taken away my every breath.

I tell myself you are with God now. I need to believe that even though I'm not sure if you did or not. I want to ask you to look for Grandma Minnie, my maternal grandmother. You can't miss her. She'll be the one doing the dishes or working on a quilt for a new baby that will be entering Heaven soon. She will most likely have a Pekinese-Poodle by her side named Samson. If you are around when it's time for Samson to go for a walk, she will ask you to put the leash on. You see, she never liked to touch him, but she would walk him every day without fail.

You might also want to keep a lookout for Uncle Bob. He'll be the engineer on the trains that travel throughout Heaven. I do need to warn you though, if you invite him over he will most likely want to sleep in your bed with his shoes on. I'm sure he will be glad to give you a tour so that you know where everything is.

There are so many people I want to tell you to say hi to. I would imagine that they are all waiting to welcome you. After all, you meant the world to me, so that automatically brings out the welcome mat.

You have fun in Heaven. Don't ever forget us. Don't ever forget me. I love you Chuck. I am so glad that God gave you to me. You will always be in my heart.

Love,
Laura

Posted by Moogie at 5:36 PM | Comments (8)

Too many Mondays

For the last three weeks, I believe the planets were not in alignment because my children only got along for approximately 3 minutes. (DO NOT LOOK AT EACH OTHER. DO NOT TOUCH EACH OTHERS STUFF. DO NOT SPEAK TO EACH OTHER. YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT HITTING AND I DON’T CARE IF SHE HIT YOU FIRST! YES, I DO LOVE HER MORE THAN YOU. WHY DO YOU ASK?)

Have a nice day. Real post coming soon.

Welcome back honey. We missed you.

Posted by Moogie at 6:43 AM