Saying good-bye

This has been an incredibly difficult week. Many of my feathered companions have needed to find new homes. My furry companions are leaving tomorrow. I am on an emotional roller coaster and I am a freaking mess.

Just pray for us, so much needs to happen tomorrow...so, so much...

Back to roots long forgotten

When our oldest son was little, his father and I would take frequent trips to Northern Virginia, where my family is (at least the important part of it) and of course our son went with us. We toured the Smithsonian, the Capitol, watched the lighting of the White House Christmas tree, meandered around the Mall, climbed the Washington Monument, went to the zoo, attended mass at the Cathedral. You name it. Then this most important year came, his last year of middle school, and with it, the privilege of going to Washington on a field trip. We were a little surprised that when the field trip opportunity arose, BB pitched it to us as an experience of a lifetime. I feared those memories were to be treasured, but by his father and myself alone.

With thanks to his amazing grandparents, this 'opportunity of a lifetime' came to fruition for my son. I was excited for him to take this trip, convinced that as he experienced these breathtaking things, the memories would come back to him. I was sure that as he laid his hand of the wall, and felt the names etched in stone underneath his finger tips, he would remember. I thought for certain that as he gazed up at the airplanes that so fascinated him in his younger years, he would think about those times...that the memories would come flooding back. I was wrong.

It makes me want to weep with the heartache of it all. The holidays spent throwing snowballs, and watching the most important city in our nation light up with the festive colors, the sheer stubborn determination that he would exhibit when he insisted to feed the machine his own metro card. All those memories made with love, carried and cherished all these years aren't with him. They are only with us. It makes me wonder as each of my children grow older, what will be the important moments, and what will exist only as chicken soup for this mother's soul?

Tiptoe among the tulips

My life right now is inside out, upside down, and sideways. I see precious little of my children. I see precious little of my fur and feather babies. However, I still bask in the love of good friends, a good man, and a wonderful family. In spite of the craziness that surrounds me and defines me at the moment...I still keenly feel, love, joy, and happiness. The question that remains is if there is a way to marry all of those feelings with the different roles I must play as a mother, partner, friend, and companion.

I know that I am being a little cryptic in my post. I ask that you forgive me for that. I will write something more detailed and definitive soon. In the meantime, will you all please tell me how you manage to play all the cards life deals you concurrently? Most of all, will you share how you manage (if indeed you do) from feeling inadequate in one venue while you concentrate on another? My inquiring mind wants to know...

Teen angst

I once had a friend tell me that teenage boys, "get those hormones going, and then they stay f#*ked up in the head until they start to get laid." At the time I thought it was a rather offensive statement, but I didn't entirely write it off since it was coming from a former teen boy. Actually, I still think it's an offensive statement but, would consider flying my teenager to Amsterdam to get high and get laid, if it meant that the child returning would somewhat resemble the one I gave birth to. Yep. I might just be *that* desperate.

My daughter texted me a link last night, it was along the lines of: WorldWideWeb.militaryschoolinformationfortroubledteens.edu

I guess I'm not the only one fed up with him. It can't all be in my head. Not if my daughter is researching potential boarding schools where we might deposit her older sibling. This thing is serious. This kid is killing me, and if that sounds like an exaggeration, he is in fact, torturing me into insanity. I mean, what mother sets her alarm to take her Xanax 45 minutes before her son's alarm is set to go off? Me. Clearly the answer is me, but, why should this be?

I tell people in stores in public places that he has Tourette's. That way they will excuse him and hopefully my clearly inadequate way of dealing with him. What does one say when their son utters a four letter word, or several of them strung together with as much hate as possible? I say nothing. I ignore him. I continue my shopping, placing my eggs carefully into my cart while I give curious onlookers a small sigh and an apologetic smile, "He has Tourette's," I say. What else can I do? I can't scream like a fish wife, or bend my six foot tall son over my knee. So? what do I do?

I take away his Xbox...he punches holes in my walls. I take away his cell phone...he goes after his little brother with a two by four. He controls the house. We tiptoe around him. We pray for him to sleep. We luxuriate in his absences. We have given up. We feel like we've tried everything legal to help him...to help us. So, what do we do? We have another 3 years, 8 months, and 14 days until he turns 18...not that we are counting of course.

Maybe my daughter has the right idea. Maybe military school is a good plan.