Posted in Poetry

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©2016 LC

Up the sidewalk
they run
chasing away
their worries
their cares
from the day
I watch
from my perch
the grass
a jungle
from the rain
laughter echos
from the hallway
to conquer
the silence
my heart
is home.

  • Edited to change title and a couple line changes seemed to fit better.
Posted in Poetry

Her Baby

Her Baby.

© 2016 LC

Mother is lonely.

She calls. Messages. Texts me.

I am her “baby.”

Though I have kids of my own,

I will always be her kid.

She will always be Mommy.

 

Boundaries don’t work with Mom! She knows I’m working, but she forgets.

I love her. I will always make time for her!

I annoyed her when I was growing up, and she loved me despite it all.

 

**EDITED TO INCLUDE THE LAST LINE. Felt like something was missing.

Posted in Poetry

My Aspiring Poet

Teaching my eight year-old daughter about poetry this afternoon. She loves reading mine. She cheers me on.

Today I am cheering her on!

With her amazing imagination and her attitude, she could write anything she wants. Her plays are awesome!

Hopefully, she writes more poetry.

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She couldn’t wait for me to post her poem, and hopes you all like it!

Lynne

*second word of first line is goombas, last word of second line is devious

Posted in Poetry

Faster and Higher

Faster and Higher.

©LC 2016

Her butt does “push-ups.”

When she swings. Her favorite

thing to do. Outside.

 

This poem is inspired by my daughter. This is how she says she feels when she swings. Made me chuckle. Hope maybe you did too!

Lynne

Posted in Blogging

And it is the Weekend!

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It has been a difficult week for writing. I couldn’t be happier to greet a Friday morning. I was a surge of energy as I completed my morning routine, grabbed some coffee, my comfy clothes, and sat down to write!

All I wanted to do all week! Didn’t have time. Bummer!

I have been making an extreme effort to keep things going. I planned out a schedule, and thought of other ideas a couple of nights ago. Things I might add in the future. I think it’s trial and error. Learning what works, and what doesn’t.

My mind is split in so many directions this week. Three out of five days I  had appointments. Certain issues to deal with for the children. Bills to pay. Oh, and a new medication to try. Side effects are lovely. Not! 

Let me just say briefly taking Cymbalta for joint pain was not a good experience. I felt wired. Not in a good way. I felt all kinds of weird things. Extremely happy. Then, sad. I couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t sleep.

If I woke up in the night, then tried to resume sleeping I couldn’t. My husband the lumberjack was a chainsaw cutting logs– the snoring kept me up. 

When I can’t sleep, I can’t think to write very well.

My son is having issues at school. He promised he would do better. Even with modifications at home, he isn’t. We are attending counseling. Still not breaking through. It is breaking my heart. 

He tells my mother on me. It is like she is going to save him. Tell me I am unfair and he should have video games all the time. They aren’t good for him. How do I know who he is talking to on there?  I don’t.

So he won’t have free rein. I know what he is doing, and when.

We had a conversation last night about his circle of friends. I think they are a bad influence. Maybe not all of them. However, since hanging out with some of them he is losing interest in things once important to him.

For instance: He LOVED taking a yearly trip with the band for their competition. This year, he had NO interest in going. It was almost like he did poorly in class so he didn’t go. Slacked off.

This bothers me because he is smart. He didn’t do this the first two semesters. He loves band. He is an EXCELLENT drummer. Gets along so well with his band director. Didn’t even bother to tell him we weren’t going on this trip. I don’t know why.

Another instance: Out of the blue yesterday, he says he doesn’t want to be a video game designer/developer. This has been his life long dream since I can remember. He went to school bragging about it. How he was going to be so good at it. He knew he had to work hard, and he didn’t care. He had the grades to do it. He only had to work at Math.

I told him I would support him no matter what he wanted to do. I believe, as a parent, it is what we have to do. Be supportive. Though he doesn’t even know what that IS now. I don’t know what would cause him to give up his dream?

So last night, I told him he needed to evaluate the people closest to him. Maybe they are jealous of him because he does so well, and they are trying to drag him down? Friends can be fake behind your back? It can be rare to find a genuine friend. (In my experiences.)

One of his friends wasn’t taking gym. So he decided he wasn’t going to either. This was affecting his gym grade dramatically. They will fail him– eventually. He would “accidentally” forget his clothes. We spoke to him about his lack of effort, and how it is lazy not to change. Gym is an easy grade.

Last night, he told me he “at least his friend was changing for gym” because he helped him. I chuckled. Still not sinking in– I said,” Yeah, you may be helping him, but he isn’t helping you! You are still sinking!” 

His answer to everything– “Yeah, I’m gonna fix that!”

You shouldn’t lose yourself in a friendship. You need to be yourself, too. Not who your friends are. He doesn’t understand that.

He doesn’t understand while his grades are plummeting, and he isn’t putting in the effort that they are affecting who he is becoming. He is letting them.

He isn’t understanding the natural progression of school. It’s going to get harder and faster, and he isn’t prepared. He needs to separate himself from these people. He needs organization, but he’s lazy.

He thinks it is okay to act like a 20-something year-old stoner, who sits around all day playing video games, and has no other care in the world. I don’t know how he is going to learn how to establish healthy relationships if we can’t pry him away from the virtual world.

Which his doctor and therapist agree is okay in limited forms. It helps his depression. Depression from middle-school because it is awful there.

This week, he told me he has a sixteen dollar tab because mysteriously his lunch keeps getting taken. He doesn’t know by whom. I called his father asking if he would call the school. But at this point, we aren’t sure if he is making an excuse to eat at school.

We told him to be more alert when he is eating so when we call the school we have a name. How can we call if we don’t have a name? If he is talking and not paying attention, he needs to pay more attention to his lunch, and eating.

He agrees to stuff, but then he complains about it later. So typical.  

I am so glad my daughter isn’t a teenager, yet.

So yeah, that is this week in a nutshell. I made it! 

Hopefully this weekend is a nice relaxing one. With some time to write, and plan.

Wishing everyone a wonderful weekend!

Lynne

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Poetry

Clouded Perception

Clouded Perception.

© LC 2016

Underneath that smile

Is the little boy I once knew.

Now he is too big for his britches!

Once so happy and carefree–

Fast as a weed he grew!

Playing matchbox cars in ditches.

Lost in the world of gaming,

as if nothing matters to you.

Your dreams—waning.

You flirt with Deception.

The lies cloud your view.

Dreaming of easy riches.

What happened to the boy I once knew?

I wish you could see yourself through my eyes

Potential wasted. You believing your own lies!

Posted in Blogging, Letters

A Letter to My Parents.

When I was younger, I grew up away from my parents. My grandmother raised me. I reflect on it, a lot. This letter is what I would say to them if I thought it would make things better.

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Dear Mom and Dad,

I understand our situation is unique. It is not everyday your toddler goes to live with her grandmother. I can’t imagine it was an easy decision for either of you to make. Nor did one of you make it alone. I don’t know the circumstances surrounding  your decision. However, as a parent myself I find myself trying to put myself in your shoes, and how you must feel. Even now.

When I was younger, a certain amount of curiosity arose within me about you and my brothers. I wanted to know you. What you were like. It wasn’t that I was unhappy at home. It was because you are my family. I was proud of my family!

I told everyone at school, “I have two moms and two dads.” They thought I was weird. But I was special. No one had two moms and dads then. So it made me different. I was an outcast, but I didn’t care.

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I wanted to spend time with you. Mom made the best pancakes. I didn’t care if we couldn’t always go places, or do things. I had a good time. But I often had to ask Mom. Who said,”No.”

I realize now as a mother why she said, “No.” It wasn’t because she didn’t want to see me. Or that the boys and I fought. It was because she would want me to stay. She knew she couldn’t keep me. The mornings she didn’t see me off she was upset in her room.

I can’t imagine how hard it would have been to have a daughter you never see. That you couldn’t or didn’t keep. Having a part of your family not with you hurts.

Seeing her grow. Her accomplishments. Being proud of her. But not a part of her life, fully. I can’t fathom that because I am a mother now.  I wouldn’t dream of parting with my daughter, and watching her like some bystander.

As a teenager, I lived with you for a while to satisfy my curious streak. I can’t imagine how grandma felt. But I was spoiled, I admit it. And at that point, you seemed to favor the boys figuring grandma spoiled me. So I left saying things I didn’t mean like teenagers do.

Soon after trying to figure out why our family is so messed up, I said some more things. Not trying to be hurtful. I recognize Dad having depression even though I don’t understand it. But if it has to do with me, he can let it go now. I am okay. I am grown.

I do not hold anything against you or Dad. Whatever happened was a long time ago. I turned out just fine.

I only wish everyone could get along like a normal family. I acknowledge some stuff went down, however, that was the past. I ask for forgiveness for people who didn’t realize how much damage it would do to our family. I don’t care about what Grandma did. She is my mom. However, you are also my MOTHER.

I have only ever wanted us all to be a family.

By letting go of the grudges threatening to rip us apart, we can let the past die. We can all be a family. 

 

Posted in Blogging, Meme/Text Quote

Sticking it to Monday!

Monday is up to its dirty tricks, however, I’m not falling for it. When the day starts off with such positive vibes I expect the shyster to derail my plans. We maintained the status-quo despite efforts to turn the day into a train wreck.

We may have jumped track a couple of times, however, managed to steer back on course with minimal damages. 

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It started this morning when the rain came. Determined not to let it ruin the day, I decided to drive my daughter to school. She was in a great mood because she was hitching a ride with me, she was ready early so she could play, AND she got a straw in her milk.

It is the little things you know! Truth be told, in my pre-caffeine stupor, I almost spilled the milk, so the straw saved the day. It made her morning.

I was happy she was happy and not griping over her clothes. Or her hair! Last week, she hated her hair. Wished it was blonde. Ugh. She is eight!

We had a minor dispute over the pants she was wearing, but it passed. We came to an agreement, and things went smooth for the rest of the morning.

I don’t remember giving my mother this much trouble over clothes, and hair at this age. Perhaps I did.  They say your children are ten times worse than you were. I often wonder if they did research if this would be true.

I know how our mornings here usually go. I should make a recording of myself saying something, and play it back a few times. After the fourth time, she will listen.

Usually, I am in a time crunch, and anxious about having us both out the door in time. This morning I didn’t care. I was busy. The house was cleaned up a bit. Everyone was packed and ready to go.

It was peaceful. The kids didn’t bicker. Well, once.

Good for a Monday, I’ll take it! 

We made it to school on time. Which is an accomplishment for me, I’m usually running late. But end up being right on time. Or a couple of minutes late. I was never like that until children happened. 

My daughter and I talked until it was time for her to walk to her classroom.

She held up her seat-belt grinning and said, “I think I lost weight.”

I glance over at her giggling and say, “In your seat-belt?”

“Yeah.” She smiles her cheshire grin.

She has a complex already about her weight. I hate how mean girls are about her weight. She is going through a chubby phase that I went through, and it will pass. She struggles with it, and sometimes is bullied.

It is hard to watch your kids go through hard times. You can tell them it is going to be okay and offer them advice because you have been through it yourself. However, it doesn’t help them at the moment because they are living it.

When I offer my son advice, he says, “That isn’t really helpful to me, Mom, because I live it every day.” My daughter concurs.

I know being there for them, offering advice, and love helps to some degree. That is the power of Mom. We are not just mom. We are their first friend. It doesn’t take the hurt away, but at least we are there for them. 

When Dad is involved, well, a different animal is unleashed. His advice is not as gentle and loving as Mom’s. But Dad’s deal with things differently, I guess it is the testosterone.

I stand behind him and shake my head and mouth, “No, don’t do that!” The kids know better than to start something at school. After awhile of putting up with being picked on, what are they supposed to do? 

Have tried making friends out of your enemies. Praying for them. Laugh about it. Ignore them. Kids can be persistent, and mean.

A child can only take so much. The school does nothing. It is like they are afraid of disciplining the bully. Or making the parents angry. When we were kids were disciplined at school! What happened to that!

Middle school is becoming a bad place. I worry about my teenager. It is no wonder he comes home grumpy. I think I would if I had to be there. It seems worse than when we were in school.

Drugs. Bullying. Political Agendas. Sex!

I thought about him this morning when I was dropping my daughter off. Hoping he was having a good morning. I worry if any day is good there. Glad we are doing the counseling real soon. We had a great weekend together. He was present instead of in his room!

Shopping did not go as smoothly as I hoped. They were out of what we needed. How can store be out of sale items? I went through all the cooking magazines and books, and cannot formulate a plan for dinner. That is an ongoing dilemma here.

Still manged to buy the essentials. Coffee is essential. I tried going mornings without it, and I’d rather not try it again. Mornings are icky.

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I ran into my mother, who was also in town on errands, twice! I did manage to talk to her this weekend, and set those boundaries. I felt relieved and bad at the same time, but it is done. All is well now.

We have a great bond. I only needed to make sure she doesn’t hate my husband since she is my sounding board, which she doesn’t, and set some time aside for writing. If she doesn’t see it as a job, she won’t take it seriously. I need her to take it seriously so I have time to write.

I know what plagues my mother. She is depressed. She won’t admit it. I called her on it today at the store.

She has reasons to be depressed. She has empty nest syndrome, worries about everyone, the house, her living situation, finances, health situation, and misses my dad.

She joked with me, “If I’m depressed and have some dementia, then so do you!”

“Maybe I do!” I said. Walking to my car.

Older adults run a higher risk for depression. They could be sad for a number of reasons: health issues, living situation, or lacking social support. Depression can be mistaken for dementia because it can produce the same symptoms.

I hope I have her thinking about it. As much as I see her anxious and depressed, I think she could benefit from counseling and maybe drug therapy. I love my mom, and I want to see her get better. She takes care of everyone else. She is getting older now, and needs to take care of herself. I will help her.

A mother and daughter’s bond is the strongest one, after all.

 

 

Posted in General

Storm Season.

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Life is a struggle lately. No reprieve for me. No secret mom-cave though that would be AWESOME. Alas, I’m present in reality watching all the punches continue to land. Dodging what I can. Waiting for whatever storm this is to pass. Hoping and praying it all works out as it should.

However that is supposed to be.

I wish storms left tons of rainbows along the way with pots of whatever you needed at the end. Like a treasure hunt. Then, it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe praying gives you clues, and solutions will pop into your head later. Hmmm.

Things are tense. I know when things are tense I am supposed to pray and trust God (working on it) because things are happening behind the scenes I cannot see. But I am to my point, I have had it up to here *points with hand above head*.

I am stressed to the max. That storm people talk about passing is hovering. Like a massive hurricane instead of a thunderstorm.

They talk about when the storm passes you won’t be the same person walking out because you change. You grow strong. Brave.

I’ve manged these storms. Some easier than others. But this one just isn’t going anywhere. So I guess I’m left wondering when this shit-storm will be over. I am considering some strategies to help.

Contributors to my storm: my mother, my husband, and my son. I feel like Dorothy struggling to find her footing in Oz. 

I feel like I am torn between my mother and my husband. I talk to both of them about the other. I have to vent. But I have to stop that. I see it isn’t good. It creates chaos. Chaos I don’t need.

I talk to my mother about my husband because my best friend is gone. Who else am I supposed to vent to? My mother is my best friend and a good listener. Often, she gives good advice. I believe her age gives her a degree of wisdom I don’t have.

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My husband is my also my best friend that is why I married him! He makes me laugh and he cheers me up when I am sad. I talk to my husband about my mother because sometimes she can grate my nerves. I love my mother, dearly, I owe everything to her. She is loving, helpful, and I would do anything for her. She is wonderful.

“If momma ain’t happy ain’t nobody happy,” has some degree of truth. She misses my father, who passed in 1992, and she is lonely. Her living situation often makes her miserable, and when she needs help over there no one assists her.

She loves to talk on the phone. I don’t. I wish we could talk without hearing about everyone else’s business, and constant reminders of appointments and things. I admit I am absentminded so I appreciate a reminder, but after the first time it is not a reminder it is nagging. 

I don’t mind talking on the phone if we have things to talk about. Keeping me on the phone when I don’t want to be on the phone stinks. I wonder if all moms are like that? I could ditch my phone, and it wouldn’t bother me.

I guess that is me though. I could live out in the middle of nowhere with a cellphone for emergencies, and it wouldn’t inconvenience me. As long as we have groceries, we are good.

I would never move away from my mother despite my dreams of a nice cabin in the woods. Far, far away. I don’t think my husband would go for it either. However, it is a nice dream.

I know why my mother acts the way she how does. She wants to be needed, and feel important. Useful. She is getting older now. I feel like I am always making her mad. Like I can’t do anything right. I know it’s mutual. She gets impatient when I don’t do everything right now. But I love her the same as I did when I was younger, she is still my mother.

Even though she thinks my husband isn’t good enough for me. Or my son. Especially my son. My husband adopted him and has been around since he was four. I believe she feels she has to keep an eye on him since my grandma is not here to do it.

Only grandma liked my husband… She was protective of my son because of his biological father, and had no reason to dislike my husband. Between the two of us he was the only one to make out her speech after she had her stroke. She appreciated him talking to her. She was often frustrated trying to talk. I would give anything to hear her speak, again.

She would tell my mom how it is. She did that sometimes. Only to apologize later. She hated having hurt feelings. It was funny watching the two of them argue. My grandmother made the funniest faces. That is probably how the two of us look now!

The thing is she isn’t here to witness the love. My son and I may complain on occasion, but what family doesn’t have their share of disagreements? It doesn’t mean they don’t love each other. It is annoying when your mother is asking your son if he is being mistreated.

No, he is fine. If he was being mistreated, we wouldn’t be living here! What teenager doesn’t hate being grounded, doing chores, and hates his or her parents at times. That sounds normal to me.

If my son was being abused or mistreated, or if any of us were, the cops would be called. What the heck is she thinking! I have already been divorced once! Does she not think I am capable of doing it again!

As for my son’s problem-o, it all boils down to a girl! His whole “emo-routine” was because he had his heart stomped on by the first girl he held hands with. So that is why his work was not getting done in school, why his grades have went down the drain and he probably won’t make the honor roll, and why his attitude is so shitty.

We had a big talk about girls. I know I am a girl, but I hate girls right now. Teenage girls. Or maybe just the teenage years in general. This is harder than I remember. It makes me want to sit in my room, and listen to music. Do the whole “emo-thing.” My kid is too young for this sappy love stuff. Fourteen is too young. 

He is pretty confused. She became jealous because he was talking to another girl trying to help her with school. I told him how stupid that sounded. Now she is dating his best friend, however, she keeps giving him “the look,” and he doesn’t know what this “look” means.

He says, “I don’t know what to make out of this look. It is just so sad, and confusing. She just keeps looking up at me with those eyes.”

(I wish I could tell her to keep her eyes to herself, and pointed in another direction. My kid has some intense feelings caused by hand holding and a heart-shaped note that says, “I love you to the moon and back.” The confusion ends here.)

Of course, I want to barf. So I mentally barf when he says that. I tell him, “You don’t really know what love is yet. Right now, your feelings are all over the place and it gets confusing. Just wait a couple of years. Things will be a little less confusing then.”

This girl has been nothing but trouble. I am glad he isn’t “dating” her anymore. I wish he would show more interest in his friend who is like the “girl version” of him. Unfortunately, he hasn’t realized what a gem she is– yet.

One of these days maybe he will. When neither of them have a date to prom and they decide to beat the system and go together as “friends.” Maybe they will have a great time instead of being wallflowers, and dance.

For now, he has decided to focus on school. Which is a wise choice. He may have two C’s on his report card, which is unlike him. The depression he deals with by isolating and gaming is being handled. We are starting counseling, and it has been addressed by his doctor. He will play video games less, and engage more with family.

His problem is he doesn’t talk to us. Then, he blows up. Plays the blame game. It’s everyone’s fault but mine. I know it’s a teenager thing. Just wish they weren’t so hard on him and everyone living here when we incur his wrath.

The teen years– will anyone survive!? 

I think I have it handled. I have a strategy for this storm. I think I need to set some boundaries in my life without feeling guilty. It will help with feeling less stressed, and I will be writing more.

I have a feeling this storm will be on the way out soon!