P.S.

Also, I just discovered with my new MacJournal update, I can post directly from my journal to my blog, cutting out the copying and pasting. Win.

A Disconnect

It’s been a long while since I’ve blogged, even longer than usual for me. I can’t really describe my reasons for holding back... the only phrase I can come up with is “a disconnect”. I get in these moods, which, while not what I would really call a depression, are enough to bring me low and cause intense apathy. I just haven’t had the emotional energy to write. Even while I’m typing this, I’ve almost deleted it three times. In the first paragraph. Mostly because if I start writing something, I have to finish it. Don’t feel like it. But I’ll push through.

So anyway. I’m listening to AccuRadio’s “Hey Hey, We’re the Sixties” playlist. One complaint (well not one- one of MANY) I have about the area I live in, is we don’t have any decent Oldies stations. We used to have a great one, which got replaced by R & B. Recently I found out that one station has switched to “The greatest hits from the 60’s, 70’s, and 80’s” which is... acceptable, but not good enough. I want some Beatles and Monkees and Turtles (Ha- The Turtles just came on) and Herman’s Hermits and Dylan and America and The Temptations... don’t muddy the waters with Styx and Van Morrison. Just give me some good OLD Oldies, folks. I mean, aren’t there enough old people in our area to constitute at least one station? Lucky for me, I don’t live in the era whose music I love so much, so I can use the internet to listen to it.

This weekend starts our official beginning of summer. Today was Ashton’s last day of school. I’ve been counting down to this for 2 months. I used to hate the summer months- I can’t stand the heat. But since Ashton has started school I appreciate summer more. There’s something about the late nights, the sticky heat and fireflies that is so much better when you know it’s only temporary. I’m embracing this summer with open arms, even though I know it will be gone before I know it. The next few weeks will be spent in a flurry of preparation for our family vacation to Disney World in a few weeks. I won’t lie- I love Disney World with a squee-worthy love. The first time I went (at the age of 23), and saw Cinderella’s castle through the monorail window, I teared up. It’s true. I’m not an overt Mickey fan- meaning I don’t wear Disney paraphernalia or decorate my house in it. But there really is something so magical about Disney World. They make everything special.

This is all I can manage for tonight. Boring drivel, but a start. If you have faith in me, stay tuned- I’m sure I’ll rejoin the world soon enough.

In Memory, In Hope

My friend Missy and I had the extreme honor today of representing our precious Caris’ family for her, at a memorial service held at University of Virginia Children’s Hospital. The service is held annually, honoring and remembering children who have passed away while being treated at the hospital. Originally, a large group of us had planned to go, but as the time came closer, Caris’ parents felt that it was too soon for them to return to the place that represented such grief to them. Although we understood completely, Missy and I couldn’t bear the thought of no family or friends being there to represent their little girl- and so we offered to attend the service on their behalf.

UVa is about a 3 hour drive from our city. Let me just say, Missy and I are the queens of road trip entertainment. It is one of our favorite pastimes, whatever the reason for the trip is. We had a great drive, stopping at Mellow Mushroom in Charlottesville for lunch. I’m saying all of this to bring myself to this point: I put off thinking about the reason for this trip. Consequently, I was completely sideswiped by the grief that struck me when we pulled into the UVa parking lot.

The set up when we walked in was tranquil, soothing. People speaking in hushed, gentle voices, making eye contact and smiling softly. There was a guestbook we signed, baskets full of travel tissues, and print outs of poems and encouraging thoughts. When we walked into the hall, we were handed programs and carnations, to place on the Tree of Life. At this point my eyes were already welling up, my heart hurting. We took our seats and opened the programs. Inside was an order of service, and a folded piece of paper, covered front and back.

Covered with names.

The only thought in my stunned brain was, “There are too many names here. Too many.” And although only one name was significant to me, one Caris AnnaBelle Tate, I knew every name on that page represented an entire ocean of life, grief, hope, prayers, and tears. Every name spoke of a life too short, a family forever changed. I wept openly for those names- over 200 of them.

The service was beautiful, comforting. It didn’t belittle anyone’s grief- it honored and revered it. It spoke tenderly of anguish, with an underlying tone of hope. One mother spoke of her son, who passed away after more than two years fighting leukemia, right before his 8th birthday. With his passing more than 5 years behind them, she spoke with hope in her voice, confidence in that hope. She said, “Your pain will change. It will get... I won’t say easier, but it will be different.”

When Caris AnnaBelle’s name was called, Missy and I walked to the front and placed our flowers in the tree. We were blessed and humbled to be there. We spoke a litany at the end, one that speaks of grief and hope better than I ever could:

Leader: The flowers before us remind us of particular children, your children, who have touched us all with life, with joy, and with deeply felt sorrow.

People: We celebrate the gifts they gave us and acknowledge the anguish their deaths have caused.

Leader: In the aching of our hearts, we are reminded of our loss and also of the love we shared and continue to give.

People: We lift up all that is within us--joy and sorrow, favored memories and dashed hopes, loneliness and heart-felt connection, and so much more.

Leader: We are challenged to go on caring, made more aware by our own distress. Our ears hear cries and our eyes see needs as we continue to reach out with our love.

People: As we seek solace, may we also give solace; as we seek comfort, may we also comfort.

Leader: This is the faithful journey of loving and being loved, free to grieve and free to serve.

People: May strength of spirit and gentle trust fill our lives and bring us peace.

ALL: Amen.

So tonight, I am praying, in memory, and in hope. In memory of Caris, and of every child named on that too-long list. In hope that their families will be comforted and given peace beyond their own understanding; and that one day their pain, while perhaps not getting easier, will soften, change, and give birth to hope itself.

Marching for Babies

 

 This was kind of an emotional day. As you’ve probably seen from the button on the side of my blog, I’ve been raising money for this year’s March of Dimes walk. The walk was today. This morning I woke up crying. Not sobbing- not gut wrenching pain. Just tears spilling over slowly, a silent, aching grief. A few months ago I wrote a blog about a friend’s baby who had passed away at 6 days old. We marched in baby Caris AnnaBelle’s memory today. She would have been 3 months old yesterday.

 The weather was perfect- not too hot, not too cold. The trail we lapped was beautiful, peaceful, quiet. Even when we found out that the trail was 1.5 miles around, not 1 mile like we had thought, which resulted in us walking a mile more than we were supposed to before we figured out why we were the ONLY team still out there (we just figured everyone else were slackers). The extra mile was worth it, figuratively and literally (incidentally, we ended up walking 6 miles: one mile for each day of Caris' life).

I was more than honored to be there- I was humbled. Humbled to be surrounded by so many strong families, people who had suffered tragedy, crippling fear, worried, sleepless nights and grief, and survived. People who have forged ahead and declared that their children’s premature births, illnesses, disabilities, and lives weren’t, and never will be, in vain. It was truly inspiring.

I hope people don’t misunderstand me when I say that, although I was proud to be there, overjoyed to be able to honor Caris and support her family, I wish that it had never been necessary. I was ecstatic that our team raised more than 6 times our goal, setting a record in our area for a first time team, but I wish that there was no record to set. That’s where the tears and grief came from. Not just for Caris’ sake- for every baby’s sake.

This won’t be my last March for Babies. I will continue marching, every year, in memory of Caris. And in the hope that one day, the need to march will no longer be there.

Caris' parents, Chris and Maggie

Learning Contentment

I got pregnant with my son, Ashton, when I was 19. Jeremy and I were already engaged, wedding date set, etc. However, getting pregnant out of wedlock, especially having been raised the way we were, is quite a blip on the radar screen of our life. 9 years later, it’s still something that I regret. I don’t regret Ashton by any means; I wouldn’t trade him for the world. But I regret the disappointment of our families, the fear and anxiety that Jeremy and I went through, and the judgement passed on us by others. The day  the blood tests confirmed my pregnancy, Jeremy had to go to the bank to cash a paycheck. I sat in the car with the windows down, wiping tears as steadily as they streamed down my face. A car pulled in a few spaces away from me, full of teenage boys. They sat there, music blaring, joking, occasionally looking at me, at the crazy girl sitting in a clunker openly weeping. After a few minutes, one of the boys got out and walked over to me.

“Are you okay?” he asked me.

I kind of laugh-sobbed, and choked out that yes, I was okay.

“You seem kind of like you’re having a hard day. My friends and I couldn’t help but notice that you are a little stressed. We wanted to give you this,” he said, handing me a little stuffed animal out of the back of their car. It was Max from How the Grinch Stole Christmas, reindeer antler and all. “I hope you know things will be okay. Whatever it is, you will be okay.”

All I could do was cry harder and thank him from my heart. I never saw those boys again. I don’t even remember what they looked like. And I don’t think they’ll ever know what a balm they were to me on the day that I thought was the end of my life. I still have Max. My baby’s very first gift, from a total stranger.

Jeremy and I got married in July of 2003, when I was 5 months pregnant. We decided not to change the wedding date, because everything was already set. I wasn’t showing much, and it was easy to hide under a poofy wedding dress. When we went back to visit our home church a few months after our wedding, just a few weeks before Ashton was born, in fact, we faced a lot of stares and snide comments. Comments like, “Well that certainly was fast...”, and “Now I can see why you were in such a hurry to get married!”

That first year of our marriage profoundly affected me. We never really had a “newlywed” phase. We went straight from being newly married to new parents. We had no idea what we were doing. We were exhausted, scared, practically estranged due to sleep schedules (or the lack thereof) and my insane hormones. I became resentful of my life. Adding 2 more kids in the next 5 years did nothing to boost my morale. I went from getting judgmental looks as a pregnant 19-20 year old, to getting judgmental looks for being a 25 year old with 3 kids under the age of 5. I caught the tell-tale stares at my left hand, the grandmothers in the grocery store saying, “Well, you’ve certainly been a busy little girl, haven’t you?”, even childhood friends posing queries about birth control.

I wondered what I would do if I could go back. Would I trade my kids, even as much as I loved them, to be able to have a “do-over”? Sometimes, I’m ashamed to admit, the answer was yes. When I looked around and saw other women my age going to college, traveling- honestly, even just leaving to go to the grocery store without it being an ordeal- I would fantasize about what it must be like, to be young and child free, unencumbered, with places to go and adventures to have.

But these are all choices I made. Not going to college, getting married early, having kids (even the ones that were a “surprise”), this is the life I chose, no matter what others might think of me for it. For the longest time, I have chafed under the weight of my choices. I’ve tried to learn to escape them, through books, movies, music, daydreams (if you've guessed that this has been one of those weeks, you guess right).

Before any of you think I'm an ungrateful wretch, hear me out. I know, in my heart, that I have a good life. Sometimes my head doesn’t want to agree with me. It has taken me 9 years to even begin to understand what it means to “learn contentment”. It may take me another 9 years to actually learn it. I’m starting to be okay with that. Just like those boys told me on that day, years ago, whatever my life is, however I may feel about it at times, I will be okay. I’m willing to learn contentment. I have a patient Teacher.

Match Point

I think I’ve said before that a lot of times Jeremy and I argue just for the sake of arguing. Don’t ask me why... it’s just something we’ve always done. Even back when we were friends, we argued constantly. It’s just a habit of ours to disagree, I suppose.

Sometimes we laugh and holler about it... sometimes we get heated. Almost all real arguments start with the phrase, “You wanna bet?!”, followed by a prompt Google search. This is a surefire way to get us rolling, because 9 times out of 10, we do, in fact, wanna bet. Not that we have anything to bet; mostly it’s “a million dollars”, or, in my more dramatic case, “my entire existence”. Since this past Sunday, here are a few of the things we have argued about:

1. If crack cocaine is, or is not, an expensive habit. Jt said no; I said yes. We based our argument on how much money per week one would spend on it. According to dopestats.com (don’t ask me why there’s a website for this sort of thing... I can’t answer that. Also, don’t ask me why caffeine and chocolate are listed with drugs such as marijuana, ecstasy, heroin, and meth), crack cocaine goes for an average price of $45.00 for 1 gram. Jeremy insists that this is not expensive. I say that if you have a habit of abusing crack cocaine, then yes, this could indeed get expensive. Assuming you used a couple of grams every few days, it has the potential to cost at least $90 a week. He offered to go out and find some crack addicts for me, and ask them if they thought their habit was expensive. I declined. In the end, he was forced to agree with me in that, if I myself took up crack cocaine, it would be out of our budget, thereby proving that it is an expensive habit. Mary- 1. Jeremy- 0.

2. Stemming off of the crack cocaine argument, we argued over whether marijuana is more expensive than crack cocaine. He said yes; I said no. He told me that people spend way more on pot than on crack. I conceded that while that may be true, I wouldn’t believe that marijuana actually cost MORE than crack. He promptly followed with, “Wanna bet?!”, so naturally, I returned to our trusty dopestats.com, and looked up the going price for marijuana, which is listed as $55.00 for 3.5 grams. Jeremy was momentarily triumphant, seeing the bottom line... until I pointed out that pot was only $10 more for more than 3 times as much as you get with crack. Mary- 2. Jeremy- 0.

3. Whether or not the mess and clutter in our bedroom was my fault or his. This became one of our “heated” debates. I maintained that 70% of the clothes on the floor were his; he lashed back, saying that the reason that his clothes were on the floor was because I had allowed Chloe’s clothes to take over his dresser (I’ve told you before how small our house is... we have to share space). He won that argument, but not easily. Mary- 2. Jeremy- 1.

4. Whether Ashton’s Little League hat was smaller than Jeremy’s coach’s hat. I said that Ashton’s was smaller, Jeremy said they were one size fits all. My argument was that earlier in the week I had put both hats together on top of the piano, fitting Ashton’s inside of Jeremy’s. I told him that the brim on Ashton’s was shorter. When we found Ashton’s hat (which he had since buried in a couch cushion somehow) I was all prepared to be smug... however, Jeremy simply adjusted the Velcro strap on Ashton’s hat to match his, and yes... they were the same size. Mary- 2. Jeremy- 2.


So here we are on Wednesday, tied. I think that my victories are more significant, since I have Google research to back my claims. Jeremy thinks his common sense in the hat business should count for 2 points. Wanna bet on who wins this argument?

Take Me Out To The Ballgame

I'm a proud mama tonight. I'd like to say I am every night, but I'm also an honest mama... so I know it would be a lie to say that I am enthusiastically proud of 100% of my kids' activities 100% of the time. But, tonight I am. 

My Bubba played his first Little League ballgame tonight. Unfortunately, they didn't win. Fortunately, it took Ashton a few hours to really let it sink in, and he didn't start sulking until about 10pm, at which time I put him to bed. He is so intense. He takes himself so seriously. 

According to Jeremy (who swears he is unbiased in this point), Ashton is one of the best players on the team, especially given the fact that he has never played on a team before. I can see this about him... he has always been focused, and it showed on the field tonight. Other kids were staring into space, zoning out... and Ashton was completely invested the whole game. Of course, he was on 3rd base, which is normally a hot spot; but in coach pitch, where the kids are just starting, the ball rarely even made it to 3rd base. Poor Ashton was so ready to do his part, waving his glove in the air, and at one point even throwing his hat on the ground, getting frustrated every time a player got past him because he never got the ball. He told me he never even got nervous, but just that his "heart was beating" when it was his turn to bat.

Anyway, this is strictly a bragging blog. Some of you may believe that since his team lost, I have nothing to really brag about.

Who can look at him and tell me I don't have a reason to brag?