Boys to men.....

 It's Christmas break and both boys are home. It's hard not to think back to the days when we filled the time with playdates, baking, watching Christmas specials, sledding if there was any snow, and hot cocoa.

I sit alone in a full house now. No one coming out of their room unless they need food, laundry, or money. It's lonely. Aren't they lonely? I love spending time with my kids they are the coolest human beings on earth! (most of the time) What do grown son's do with mom??

If it were up to me, we would still do all the things - and MORE. Go out to eat, cook, go see a band, museum, art exhibit, show, go on a road trip, shopping trip, European trip, try glass blowing, axe throwing, ziplining, go hiking, canoeing, sledding, birdwatching.... you get the picture.

But my boys are not in that phase, yet they are still a chrysalis.  Wrapped up, hibernating, morphing, figuring out how to grow their wings let alone use them. I know I need to let them be, but I miss them, all of them.

The little boys that wanted to play a game every day when it was time for me to start cooking dinner. Or who could have played in the sand for 3 more hours with the diggers. The boys who looked forward to reading books together so much they would beg "one more, please, just one more". The teenagers I demanded eat dinner at the table all together and even though they fought me we were all still at the table 2 hours later talking, laughing, listening to stories, and hearing all about their lives. It was just easier to make time or maybe it was making rules when they were under my roof. Now they are guests in their old home.

It will always fill my heart when I get a call and hear, "Hey Mom". Whether they are texting, can you talk? Do you have a minute? or What's up? My whole body reacts. I know I immediately smile, my heart beats faster, I feel lighter and the answer is always YES!

Modern psychology says I too am in a chrysalis stage. This is my time to morph myself, find my bliss, my tribe, try new things, find my new self. I've been looking for myself for 53 years if I haven't found her now - forget it!

I hope my boys will always know how much they lift my soul, light my heart, and make my days better. And whenever they call, whatever they need, it is always- YES! ....and let's get ice cream

What was my mom like as a 4 year-old?

 As my mom lay in the hospital again, the Alzheimer's ravishing the last of her brain I sat staring at the monitors listening to beeps and wondering - What was my mom like as a toddler? As hard as she fought this disease, as stubborn as she was, and the sarcasm! What in the world was she like as a child?!

I lay my head back against the chair and closed my eyes picturing a toddler with the wit and wisdom of an old woman giving everyone the What For as I drifted off to sleep.

I was aware of being in a house but could not for the life of me figure out what house I was in.  It looked like it had not been updated in 80 years. There was knotty pine paneling on the walls, a large stone fireplace with a huge mantel, and a picture of a pastural scene. The couch was a low sleek design covered in black and white fabric with what looked like the Chevrolet symbol. Identical chairs flanked the couch and a long low coffee table sat in front of all of it.

As I scanned the room again looking for a real clue to where I was I heard the clicking of high heels. I noticed the floors here were tile butting against wood floors in the next room. Maybe seeing someone would give me an idea of where I was.

Then my grandmother appeared. Seeming to be in her 30's she was dressed impeccably not a hair out of place with an apron wrapped around her waist. I was in awe, in love, and heartsick. Seeing her again was amazing but knowing I couldn't hug her to sit down and tell her all that  was in my heart was hard.

Just then another woman walked into the room silently. Her shoes, it seemed, were made of much sturdier stuff. She was very plainly dressed in a shapeless gray dress, her hair pulled tightly back in a bun at the base of her neck and not a lick of make-up on.

"Mrs. Kerns, I believe that Barbie is up from her nap if she ever had one. I can hear her talking a mile a minute. Should I fetch her before I get the laundry?"

"No that's alright I will go look in on her and the baby."

Who called my mom Barbie? Grandma left the room and returned with a 4 year old Barbe on her hip. It was incredible to see this child, while I knew it was my mom, she didn't yet have the features that I have memorized as my mother.

"Barbara Cheryl if you don't take a nap you won't grow big and strong" my grandmother chastised as she put her on the rug with a small toy baby doll.

"I big and strong enough" my mom retorted and I had to laugh. This is exactly how I imagined my mother would be as a toddler. Sassy. Feisty. Full of it, whatever "it" is. Mom toddled right past the doll and straight toward the fireplace. She almost had the fire poker in her hand when my grandmother proclaimed "Barbara Cheryl you will be the death of me!"

With a look I haven't seen in many years but know very well my mother turned and glared her mother. Then she pulled the fire poker out anyway and used it to push some logs off the hearth onto the floor. Just then the large nondescript woman in gray came back in and saw the results and said calmly "Well Barbie I see you would like to help me build a fire?"

My mother looked at this woman with so much love and affection in that moment, she dropped the fire poker and quickly toddled over to her enthusiastically.

"Me do! Me Do!"

"Ok Barbie you can do it right after we take care of this laundry, come help me in the kitchen an maybe I can find you a snack."

"SNACK!" my mother squealed as she ran to the woman and clung to her legs.

"Oh, Mary Agnus if you keep feeding her between meals she is going to be as big as a house."

"I have some nice apples from the tree outside my back door. You know what they say, an apple a day." My grandmother heaved a heavy sigh and checked her watch. Then she quickly tore off the apron around her waist.

"I'm going to be late for Bridge at Gert's house. You have the telephone number if you need anything. I will pick the girls up from school since I will be in town. Do you need anything from the store?"

"No ma'am. I will get dinner in the oven right directly."

"Thank you Mary Agnus, your a Dear."

I listened to the clacking of my grandmothers heels knowing those would become a distant memory for her in the next 20 years as arthritis destroyed every joint in her body, but the perfect hair and every present Sally Hanson pink lipstick and nails would stay until the day she died. MaryEllen Kerns was the epitome of a Lady and my favorite person on earth.

The older woman bent wearily, scooped up my mom and began to bounce her.

"Trot trot to Boston. Trot trot to Linn. Look out Barbie you might fall  INNNN!" and she plopped her on top of the laundry basket.

"Would you like a ride Barbie?" she asked with mischief in her eyes and my mother squealed again with glee.

Off they went into the kitchen. This was once again a room right out of Better Homes and Gardens 1948 complete with an apple pie cooling in the window sill.

"Snack?!" my mother bellowed from her perch in the laundry basket.

"Now, you must'n tell anyone else", the woman whispered bending close to mom who leaned in and listened intently, "but there is always a little bit of pie crust left over and I can't waste it, that would be a sin. So I made you a bitty hand pie all your own. There is apples in it so I didn't fib."

"Me pie! Me pie!" mom sang as she waved her hands in the air.

Mary Agnus lifted her out of the laundry basket and placed her in a high chair. She put the little apple turnover in front of her and mom ate greedily.

"There is nothing wrong with eating Barbie you remember that and some of the best people I know are big as a house." I don't think my mom heard a word over the chewing as she devoured the secret snack. Knowing that my mother would live the next 70 years of her life battling an eating disorder, her weight, and her self-image I wish she could have truly heard this.

The woman knew her way around this kitchen pulling out an ironing board and iron while also getting a large cut of meat out of the refrigerator. When the iron was hot the woman proceeded to iron every single thing in that laundry basket including the underwear. I had only heard about this type of thing in my life time. 

"Will you help me with these chores Barbie?"

"Chores!" my mom squealed as if she was chosen for to win a prize.

The woman wiped down a very sticky Barbie and handing her a spray bottle moved the high chair closer to her ironing board. She would point and mom would spray water on the clothing she was ironing. Mom chattered away the entire time. Talking about baby and sissies which took me a minute and then I realized her older sisters would have been at school right now and Uncle Chris would have been a baby. In between talking she would start a random nursery rhyme or song and the woman keep up with all of it while pointing and ironing.

after they finished she deposited all the laundry back into the basket and turned to the large cut of meat on the counter.

"Me help to!" my mother squawked and the woman took her out of the high chair and set her on the counter. She trimmed some fat and then placed the meat in a large roasting pan that looked oddly familiar but far to clean to be the same one my mother used all my life. Then she took out some carrots and potatoes and gave my mom a dish rag. What is she going to do I thought?

"Barbie you have to clean those vegetables real good before we eat them. Make um' shine."

The she proceeded to peel some carrots, potatoes, and onion and put them all in the roaster with salt and pepper. All the while asking Barbie questions.

"What sound does that there Moo Cow make?"

"Mmmoooooooo!" my mom would recite.

"What sound does that there kitty cat make?"

"Meooooooowwwww."

After they finished in the kitchen, they made their way to the other side of the house where she put some of the clothes away and then held her finger to her mouth.

"Be very quiet Barbie we need to look in on the baby." My mother mimicked the gesture and loudly said, "Shhhhhhhhh." The woman smiled and patted her head.

They went into a small room with just a crib and a rocker. The minute they stepped inside my mom said in a stage whisper "Is Cwrisafer sleeping?" The woman nodded her head shhing Barbie once again. They walked out and she said still whispering "when the baby is sleeping we have to be real quiet."

"I quiet!" Barbie huffed with a glare and hands on her hips.

"Let's go out side and clean some string beans for dinner." The chatter never ceased all the way.

"What this? Why you do that? I do- I do. Me play outside. Let's go. Where is doggie? Doggie! Doggie! Where is Connie and Jackie? Why they no here? I wanna play outside." The woman was unphased an answered every third or fourth question and always referring to my mom as Barbie.

She took my mother outside and deposited her on the ground. For a moment I was startled and then I realized this was possibly a sand box. It was not big and there were no toys in it but my mother immediately started to push and pull at the dirt making noises, talking, calling out to the woman from time to time. She sat on an old wooden chair snipping the ends off of a large pot of green beans smiling and humming.

Then I heard a beeping sound so out of place and I looked all over trying to find it....Trisha? Trisha?

I blinked open my eyes realizing I was still at the hospital next to my mother's bedside. The nurse was asking if she could get me anything.

All I could do was shake my head and smile politely because I still felt a million miles away. I had wondered what my mom was like when she was 4 years old and I had been disappointed. 

What will they say about me.....

If you have never watched the movie Auntie Mame - You Must! "Because life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death!"

I have an Auntie Mame or rather and Auntie Carole. Since the day I can remember sitting at her knee at family Christmas I have been enamored with her. Everything about her. Her beauty, her voice, her laugh, but particularly her way of making me feel like I was The Most Special person in the world. I wanted to be her. Our time was always limited but I soaked up as much as I could hoping it would rub off.

Growing up in the 80's I was a huge fan of Different strokes and Facts of Life. So, I dreamed of one day getting to live with Auntie Carole! Or at least get sent to Boarding School, preferably on the East Coast near her. I didn't know how else to be her if I didn't get more of her?

Life marches on. I am 50 years old now and still wondering Who am I? My Aunt and Uncle have celebrated 55 years of Marriage. As I watched the video their son made of the party and the speeches I was brought to tears. Auntie Carole is still the most amazing human being as was remarked upon over and over but it is so clear....she knows who she is. She knows how to move through this world with remarkable grace, kindness, elegance compassion, bravery, independence, charisma, and authenticity. There is No One Else like her.

As I watched their 55th Anniversary video I was thinking of Auntie Mame and her charge Patrick Dennis. Patrick had all of Auntie Mame and didn't soak it up right away. He went in the opposite direction first before he came around the bend to see the gifts in Auntie Mame. I'm beating myself up for not being more, not doing enough, for not eating at the banquet of life instead of starving to death! I am not giving myself any grace for coming around the bend.

Watching my mom disintegrate from Alzheimer's has been gut wrenching. Every day I do or say, or more like can't say because I can't think of the word, something that sets off alarm bells in my head. Instead of thinking "Life begins at 50!" I start to lament that is all downhill from here and once again I am at the banquet watching, wishing, waiting.

What will they say about me? When it is my turn will there be anyone there? Maybe if I start to picture that party it will motivate me to step up to the table, take a plate, and stop starving.

Raising your parents

 Watch for my first book titled "How To Raise Your Parents".

Taking care of my aging parents has been quite a trip. As my brother who was a Grateful Dead fan would say What a long strange trip it's been. It has definitely been stressful, but that is to be expected when you are also raising teenagers, working, and trying to get your marriage out of the toilet.

A lot of this experience has been enlightening. These years have not only given me a chance to see my parents in a new light but also to finally set up boundaries in our relationship. Our family was far from perfect. I was far from perfect! I have spent a lot of time and energy in healing the hurts, calming the chaos, and figuring out how to forgive. Forgiving myself took the most time.

I know for a fact I would not be this far without this time of vulnerability with my parents. Helping my dad navigate the decline and disintegration of my mom. Being there for both of them through surgeries and recovery. Holding my dad's hand when my older brother died from cancer while they were still estranged. It was during these times I witnessed my parents at their most vulnerable and caught what I think is a glimpse of who they were before me.

My dad has been in and out of the hospital in the last month and recently someone asked me, "How can you take care of a parent who never took care of you?" It's a valid question it's just not an easy answer. I am not sure that I can explain it, but I will try...here is what I know. 1. We do not get to pick our parents. So, I do not belabor the point. Like I tell students every time I pass out popsicles - you get what you get, and you don't throw a fit. 2. I want to live by the Platinum rule. Treat others the way you want to be treated, No matter how they are acting! 3. It is important for me to live my integrity, truth, and values. I believe taking care of your parents is fundamental. and I guess I know firsthand 4. Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle. Plato.

It is an undeniable fact - I was an extremely difficult child. I didn't sleep over 2 hours in a 24 hour period until I was 3 years old. I screamed constantly. I was inconsolable. I was child #3. I was hyper and clingy and anxious. And I was (am) and asshole when I'm anxious. I have two older siblings and when I was four mom got pregnant which could not have been easy because little did she know she was having twins. Dad was self-employed and sold Real Estate to keep us all fed so he was always working and rarely home. At 52 years old with only 2 children I can give them both grace that they did the best they could! It sounds massively overwhelming considering all the other things we all know about married life. In-laws, siblings, birthdays, holidays, their own parents, sports, school functions, homework, broken arms, stitches, bills, etc, etc, etc....

They did the best they could. They gave me what they had to give. The atmosphere may not have been perfect but I had dance lessons, new clothes, vacations, over the top Christmases, boats, snowmobiles, cousins, and all 4 grandparents. Now, as an adult I have a choice to make be angry and resentful for I didn't get or go find it myself. My toolbox was pretty inadequate. I use the analogy that I had metric tools for a US system but there were some good tools in there. Loyalty, hard work, acts of service, contribute to your community, and love your family. Both Grandfathers were entrepreneurs. Both served their community, one as County Auditor-one as president of the Kawanis, and both as members of the church. My grandmothers were also forces to be reckoned were just as respected in the community and even more by their families.

As I said there's no easy answer. Like life and people, it's complicated. I am grateful for what they gave, sacrificed, and did. And I grateful for all of the opportunities and people along the way that showed me what was possible. Maybe now I can be there for them in the ways I wish could have been for me. 

Where are you TED??

 As my boys got older, busier, bigger it got harder and harder to find time to write ab out all their antics, angst, and anti-parentalness. Along with it came taking on helping my parents, more and more every year.

What a ride! I have wanted for quite a while now to sit down and think about those times and tell the stories they will want to hear in 20 years. Or more importantly the stories they partners and kids will want to hear. The hardest part about this time is that taking care of others - all others - leaves me with very few memories.

My boys made it through junior high and high school so there is that! 

My oldest made his mark in junior high by winning the American Legions Citizenship Award, the basketball team, and playing the Bari Saxaphone particularly in the jazz band. He solidified his love for running and debated soccer or Cross Country in high school but never questioned his place in the marching band. In high school he tried out for the Honor Band his freshman year and when he failed brilliantly vowed to work as hard as it took to get the honored seat. Which he did twice, however Covid messed up the first year. Covid, as well as building construction, made my oldest son's high school experience a minefield. He navigated all of the extra curriculars; soccer, track, marching/concert/jazz band, Hope Squad, AP classes, no friend group, and only one girlfriend that ended in disaster - with his own brand of overthinking, overworking, and OCD.

My youngest son struggled to follow in his brothers' footsteps finally finding his own footing. He would not choose cross country either but knew immediately band was not for him. He would gladly take a leadership role but seeing as he was the son who was determined to speak truth to power, he was rarely gifted those roles. He also wasn't gifted the coveted basketball spots in junior high school because as my neighbor liked to say - "you can't teach tall". Soccer didn't go much better in high school because the coach wanted a clone of his brother and was not sure what to do with the opposite. Also the whole speaking up thing wasn't on the list of characteristics the coach appreciated. He wasn't concerned with the honor roll, or AP classes, or service organizations. And no amount of screaming on my part made him concerned with getting a job either! This child created a whole new meaning of the word Strong Willed Child.

One thing I can say about both of my boys throughout junior high and high school. They were kind. They went out of their way to take care of and stand up for students whether it was special needs or special circumstances. They were respectful. Not just to authority to everyone. They were not afraid of standing alone. Neither of them really had any solid friends or friend groups during high school. They didn't drink or date and it was their choice not our rules. They hung out with us as we had dinners together and long conversations around the table. We watched movies some of them again, and again, and again! The summer of Battleship 15 times and AC/DC on repeat.

If you asked me during this time what I most wanted to do I would tell you honestly, Hang out with my kids. I still would! I am amazed, proud, in love with the men they are becoming. I always learn something new when we talk. They are truly 2 of my most favorite people on earth. I could not be more proud of who they are but that is not taking credit for it because I don't believe I have that much power. I am making a pledge to sit down more often and continue to chronicle, my original plan, their childhood, adolescence, and beyond in the best way that I can....writing.

Menopause.....God's sense of humor is warped!

I saw a video the other day with a list of just some of the wonderful things you can experience while going through menopause. Itchy ears, feeling like bugs are crawling on you, sudden sharp severe pains, brain fog, blurry vision, OCD and MORE! More?! Seriously?? Like women have not been through enough during our lifetime as we near the end we get to spend 20 years with Menopause.

It is great we are talking about it finally and older generations are no longer hiding this information from us just waiting for it to happen so they can cackle. But knowing it doesn't make it any easier. I went for a hike this morning thinking 70 degrees would be a reasonable temperature to not disintegrate. I was soaking wet with sweat in 10 minutes in, my ears were itching, I had shooting pain all over my body not to mention every joint in my body screaming at me "STOP IT you idiot!"

The sad part was after seeing that stupid video I didn't know if all of the symptoms were menopause or signs I was having a stroke and going to die alone in the woods trying to stay fit. Stupid exercise. I wasn't the first person on the trail this morning but I was swatting at invisible bugs. Except the one that was very real and very large. A kamikaze insect dive bombed my face and hit me so hard I lost my balance sliding off the side of the trail flailing to grab hold of something before I fell into the abyss. Until I realized I was not near the abyss, I was near the meadow so I was only going to fall on my tuchus.

Why won't my kids hike with me anymore??

God must have a very warped sense of humor. Was he up there with all those other male angels and giggling. "What else can we do?"

"I know- I know! What about making them barren, crazy, AND hot as hell? Then we can call them Hag's. Hot. Angry.Girl's."

You know there was at least one female angel up there rolling her eyes trying not to shoot lighting bolts at their nether regions. But she was sweet, demure, trying to get God to see reason. "You know God, maybe we should spread these things out a little more evenly?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, maybe both sexes could carry the burden a little more evenly, you know? Like if women get barren maybe men should as well? If women have to endure childbirth maybe men should have something equally as painful."

"Do you have any idea how bad it's going to hurt when they get hit in the rocks? It will be awful! But that men get barren idea - that's funny. that's a funny one! Hey guys listen to this one....she thinks Men should get barren as well!" 

Hence the saying God Forbid.