Well, once again we are at the year's close. This one has been full.
Hard to believe Julie's kids are so grown. (And, hard to believe my little Julie is about to turn 42!) Katie will be 17 next month and has her driver's license. She is kind of the benchmark of just how old I really am! I remember when she was just a baby and Julie gave her some tuna salad (she learned HER lesson) and Katie cried most of the night with a tummy ache. She is a gorgeous girl and quite the scholar. Now (gasp) Julie and TJ are looking at colleges. It's just not nice that they grow up so fast. Matt, who is 15 now, is tall and lanky and way too grown up. He's into drama and guitar and all of those other teenage things. He is quite the artist, too. I call Alyssa my little train wreck. She, in turn, calls me Poop Deck. Conversations are interesting, to say the least! She is 11 now and fast approaching the teen years. She has enough kid left in her, though, to make things ok. For example, her fondest Christmas gift wish is a Whoopie cushion (OR a flashlight, she says).
On the other end of the grandkid scale, Heather's kids are still pretty little. Heather, however, will turn 40 in 2010. Whew! Mike, 4, and Chris, 5, are still playing the "Pretend you are Granny and I am calling you" game, which, of course, thrills me no end. They are the most fun in the world. They aren't babies any more, though, which is kind of sad for me. Soon, they will join the others in the grown-up world.
Em's kids are in the middle. Adison is 11. He loves coming to Granny's house in the mountains and tells me, "I am not a city boy; I am a MOUNTAIN boy!" I say, Hurrah! He loves to camp with us and is just a great little visitor. I will hate it when that goes away. Maybe it won't! Haven, almost 14, is more aloof. She is a typical teenage girl who loves her bling. She is for sure a city girl, but lovely anyway. We wish she would visit more. Emily herself will be 38 next year. She is the only daughter who remains in her 30's, but not for too long!
I feel tired at the end of this year. Though the years do fly by ever faster, just like my Grandma Patterson told me they would, the speed at which they pass is somewhat exhausting. It seems like there is no time at all between New Year's Day and the next New Year's Eve. More time to savor the seasons would truly be appreciated. And, with the family history of short life spans, I always wonder if this year will be the last. I am so many years older than my mother ever lived to be and this year even older than HER mother lived, and I think I am still pretty young, all things being considered. But, I am creeping up on being older than either of my grandfathers and before too long at all I might even get to be older than my father did, all while still in my 60's. What a strange idea.
I want to live as long as Grandma Patterson, my longest living relative, at least so far. She was almost 92 when she died. What a world of change she would have experienced. She lived life to the fullest and tried always to look on the bright side. (Still working on that one . . .)
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Saturday, January 10, 2009
The world is a lovely place!
It is a new year. The sun is shining, the snow is glistening, my spirits are soaring today. At my age (and given the longevity problem in my family), every new year is a gift. Most of my family members don't live to be much older than I am now and many have not lived to be my age, so I appreciate another chance to get my life right.
Christmas was fun this year. The new recumbent exercise bicycle we got has been put to use (by ME!) every single day and I believe this is the year that I am going to get control of everything. I have already lost 10 pounds (the doctor's scale) and my doc was impressed that I actually LOST weight over the holidays. Not much is serious physically wrong with me and, with some hard work and determination, I can get back much of my former stamina. It helps that when I was younger I rode a bicycle to work and back every day, some 8 miles a day, so my legs actually like the exercise.
I love my job. Helping families find their way in this hard world makes my own troubles seem so insignificant. I truly go to work each day with a joy for the tasks ahead. Most of the people I work with appreciate my efforts on their part and most of them are glad to have been involved with the government agency for which I work.
My family is my foundation. It is solid. My husband, whom I have known for 37 years, is a loving, supportive, nurturing man. My children are an affirmation that I did something right. As my middle daughter pointed out to me this morning, they are all pretty much ok. None of them are alcoholics, none of them uses illegal drugs, and three of them have made it to adulthood with most of their sanity intact. The fourth is still a child, so he has some time to get it all straightened out before he is responsible for himself.
My grandchildren are amazing. You often don't have time when you are parenting to look closely at the little people under your care and appreciate how marvelous they are. You're most often trying to keep them safe, fed, housed, and out of mischief. Their loveliness can easily escape you under those circumstances. The eldest will be 16 this month, the youngest will be 4 on Valentine's Day (how appropriate!). The others will be 15, 13, two 11-year-olds, and 5 this year. They have all planted themselves firmly in our hearts.
My home is wonderful. It's flaws are part of what makes it unique and special. The yard is beyond beautiful. Right now, the trees are covered in snow and the paths through the property are hidden underneath winter's blanket. Just yesterday evening, a herd of deer wandered through. We stop what we are doing during their passing, so as not to scare them and so we can simply admire their grace.
My New Year's Resolution this year is to appreciate what I have.
Christmas was fun this year. The new recumbent exercise bicycle we got has been put to use (by ME!) every single day and I believe this is the year that I am going to get control of everything. I have already lost 10 pounds (the doctor's scale) and my doc was impressed that I actually LOST weight over the holidays. Not much is serious physically wrong with me and, with some hard work and determination, I can get back much of my former stamina. It helps that when I was younger I rode a bicycle to work and back every day, some 8 miles a day, so my legs actually like the exercise.
I love my job. Helping families find their way in this hard world makes my own troubles seem so insignificant. I truly go to work each day with a joy for the tasks ahead. Most of the people I work with appreciate my efforts on their part and most of them are glad to have been involved with the government agency for which I work.
My family is my foundation. It is solid. My husband, whom I have known for 37 years, is a loving, supportive, nurturing man. My children are an affirmation that I did something right. As my middle daughter pointed out to me this morning, they are all pretty much ok. None of them are alcoholics, none of them uses illegal drugs, and three of them have made it to adulthood with most of their sanity intact. The fourth is still a child, so he has some time to get it all straightened out before he is responsible for himself.
My grandchildren are amazing. You often don't have time when you are parenting to look closely at the little people under your care and appreciate how marvelous they are. You're most often trying to keep them safe, fed, housed, and out of mischief. Their loveliness can easily escape you under those circumstances. The eldest will be 16 this month, the youngest will be 4 on Valentine's Day (how appropriate!). The others will be 15, 13, two 11-year-olds, and 5 this year. They have all planted themselves firmly in our hearts.
My home is wonderful. It's flaws are part of what makes it unique and special. The yard is beyond beautiful. Right now, the trees are covered in snow and the paths through the property are hidden underneath winter's blanket. Just yesterday evening, a herd of deer wandered through. We stop what we are doing during their passing, so as not to scare them and so we can simply admire their grace.
My New Year's Resolution this year is to appreciate what I have.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Some days the dragon wins
Today, though, is not one of those days. Today, I got to sit in a staffing with other professionals in a residential treatment center and talk to a young man and his family about what he needed to do to get out. And, today, for the very first time, he seemed to "get" it. I don't think he will be in there much longer.
And, today, I got to sit in a staffing in a juvenile detention facility with a young man, his grandfather, and other people on the treatment team. We all were crying as we all talked about his mother, who is very far along in the process of dying. In fact, she will probably not live out the week. She is only 34. His probation officer is letting him out of jail so he can spend the rest of her life in hospice with her, holding her hand while she leaves this world.
Today, this young man, the same age as my oldest granddaughter, came up to me after the staffing and hugged me, thanking me for being there and for caring about his dying mother.
No, today, the dragon did not win.
And, today, I got to sit in a staffing in a juvenile detention facility with a young man, his grandfather, and other people on the treatment team. We all were crying as we all talked about his mother, who is very far along in the process of dying. In fact, she will probably not live out the week. She is only 34. His probation officer is letting him out of jail so he can spend the rest of her life in hospice with her, holding her hand while she leaves this world.
Today, this young man, the same age as my oldest granddaughter, came up to me after the staffing and hugged me, thanking me for being there and for caring about his dying mother.
No, today, the dragon did not win.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
I am not who I thought I would be.
We all have moments of clarity where we see ourselves as we really are and not as others see us. I mostly don't like what I see. When I was a little girl, I saw myself as doing something great for mankind, being a loving wife and parent, pure of heart and mind, unselfish, giving. It's not how the story goes.
My childhood was traumatic, chaotic, violent. My mother was mentally ill. When she became overwhelmed, she would just check out of life and check into mental facilities. My father solved his problems with a bottle, belt, or fist. He often assaulted my mother, who was afraid to leave because my father's parents had told her they would take the children from her. Because they had the means to do so, she knew the threat was real. When you are a child, you don't think that your life is much different than other people's. I didn't really understand until I was an adult and had therapy of my own that most families don't solve problems by screaming and fighting.
My sisters and I did not escape the chaos. All of us have our relationship issues, ranging from promiscuity and drug abuse to distancing and anger. Actually, we are all angry. Most of our children are angry, too, because we never really effectively learned how to communicate without that anger.
The lack of self esteem that defined me as I was growing up continues to this day. I am never enough: not pretty enough; not smart enough; not shapely enough; not talented enough. Sometimes I think that lack of "enough" will kill me, not through suicide, but through physical sickness that reflects the emotional poison inside. I finally, after three failed tries, have the great husband I wanted as a young woman, but the sense of not being good enough for him keeps me continually doubting that he can really love me (though he would protest that statement vigorously). A few years ago, we adopted a boy who had been through a lot. When they chose us to be his parents, I thought to myself, what in the Hell are they thinking? I am not worthy! I am trying hard not to live down to my expectations.
Recently, though I don't know why, I have been going over how I related to my biological children when they were little. It is scary and I don't know how they arrived at adulthood with any sense of stability at all. Maybe some of them don't have that much stability. Seeing their problems actually brings my own to the forefront and I take responsibility for their fears and that same lack of self esteem that they carry. Though I have apologized to each of them for the horrors I put them through, I cannot change anything I did. I failed to listen to their cries for help, even when they were in real danger. I guess I thought, gee, if I made it through, they would too. I really didn't understand that I hadn't made it through whole, but rather in pieces that had been glued back together poorly. And, crying about it doesn't help.
Now, when I see them making the same mistakes I made (aren't we mostly doomed to that?) and I try to say, oh, don't do that because here is where it leads, they see it as interference or affirmation that they are flawed and they resent me. I love them more now as adults than I was able to love them as children but somehow that isn't what comes across.
My children do, however, share something that my sisters and I do not: they have forged a bond that holds them together. They are friends as well as siblings. They have not been pitted against each other or taught to dislike each other as we were. Maybe what my husband says really is true: I am a better parent and more stable than my parents were and my children are better parents and more stable than I was, and, hopefully, their children will be even better and more stable.
Oddly, given my poor parenting, I am, 99.9% of the time, a really good grandmother. All of the failings I had as a parent are gone in my grandparenting. I love them all without limits. They are precious and beautiful to me, and they can feel my love. With them, I am an esteem builder, a lifter-upper, a soft cushion upon which to lean when they are having a tough time. People joke about how it is easier to be a good grandparent than a good parent because you get to send them home, but I don't think that is it. I believe I really see them as the little tiny people they are--the searching, learning, loving beings they were born to be.
If only I could change the past.
My childhood was traumatic, chaotic, violent. My mother was mentally ill. When she became overwhelmed, she would just check out of life and check into mental facilities. My father solved his problems with a bottle, belt, or fist. He often assaulted my mother, who was afraid to leave because my father's parents had told her they would take the children from her. Because they had the means to do so, she knew the threat was real. When you are a child, you don't think that your life is much different than other people's. I didn't really understand until I was an adult and had therapy of my own that most families don't solve problems by screaming and fighting.
My sisters and I did not escape the chaos. All of us have our relationship issues, ranging from promiscuity and drug abuse to distancing and anger. Actually, we are all angry. Most of our children are angry, too, because we never really effectively learned how to communicate without that anger.
The lack of self esteem that defined me as I was growing up continues to this day. I am never enough: not pretty enough; not smart enough; not shapely enough; not talented enough. Sometimes I think that lack of "enough" will kill me, not through suicide, but through physical sickness that reflects the emotional poison inside. I finally, after three failed tries, have the great husband I wanted as a young woman, but the sense of not being good enough for him keeps me continually doubting that he can really love me (though he would protest that statement vigorously). A few years ago, we adopted a boy who had been through a lot. When they chose us to be his parents, I thought to myself, what in the Hell are they thinking? I am not worthy! I am trying hard not to live down to my expectations.
Recently, though I don't know why, I have been going over how I related to my biological children when they were little. It is scary and I don't know how they arrived at adulthood with any sense of stability at all. Maybe some of them don't have that much stability. Seeing their problems actually brings my own to the forefront and I take responsibility for their fears and that same lack of self esteem that they carry. Though I have apologized to each of them for the horrors I put them through, I cannot change anything I did. I failed to listen to their cries for help, even when they were in real danger. I guess I thought, gee, if I made it through, they would too. I really didn't understand that I hadn't made it through whole, but rather in pieces that had been glued back together poorly. And, crying about it doesn't help.
Now, when I see them making the same mistakes I made (aren't we mostly doomed to that?) and I try to say, oh, don't do that because here is where it leads, they see it as interference or affirmation that they are flawed and they resent me. I love them more now as adults than I was able to love them as children but somehow that isn't what comes across.
My children do, however, share something that my sisters and I do not: they have forged a bond that holds them together. They are friends as well as siblings. They have not been pitted against each other or taught to dislike each other as we were. Maybe what my husband says really is true: I am a better parent and more stable than my parents were and my children are better parents and more stable than I was, and, hopefully, their children will be even better and more stable.
Oddly, given my poor parenting, I am, 99.9% of the time, a really good grandmother. All of the failings I had as a parent are gone in my grandparenting. I love them all without limits. They are precious and beautiful to me, and they can feel my love. With them, I am an esteem builder, a lifter-upper, a soft cushion upon which to lean when they are having a tough time. People joke about how it is easier to be a good grandparent than a good parent because you get to send them home, but I don't think that is it. I believe I really see them as the little tiny people they are--the searching, learning, loving beings they were born to be.
If only I could change the past.
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