Anger + sadness

I'm pissed. And I'm sad. But mostly, I'm pissed. Nope, changed my mind again, more sadness. I'm sad for the people, the children, the families that have been touched by the most recent tragedies in the news, the avoidable news. I mention the difference, because there was a lot of gd loss this week, every week. I'm talking about the Marathon Bombing. It's sad. And sad isn't even the word. And the fact that that line & feeling is familiar to me. Pisses me off. And that isn't even the word.

As a person or American or mother or woman or friend or sister - pick a word, any word - as news broke I became numb. Almost like I didn't know if it was actually happening. Some of my closest friends live in Boston. Many good friends were yards away from the blast. I had friends who were running the marathon or watching their loved ones run and then others who ended up quite literally running for their lives. My brother works in Boston and surrounding areas. I lived a few blocks away from the blasts what seems like the other day (reality: 7 or 8 years ago). As I watched the video and photos unfold I knew these areas well. Video looped on streets and store fronts I walked by often. In the wee beginnings of our relationship when he was in San Fransisco and I was Boston I would talk to him, for hours. Since I pace when I'm on the phone I decided to walk instead of wear out the carpet. I walked that street weekly, if not daily.

Later in the week, the locations of the shoot outs, explosions being thrown out of cars in a chase, manhunts and the such - all local. I drove those streets, I know those towns. When the chaos moved to Watertown, most of it took place a few blocks from a friend's home with two small children like me. It was their reality.

The families or people who were directly effected: killed, hospitalized, surgeries, psychologically shaken or broken. Unimaginable. I can't process it. More than it all happening in a neighborhood like yours or where you might have lived lifetimes ago. More than having friends that weren't physically hurt but you know someone who made slightly different choices that day that changed their life. More than all of the six degrees of fucked up Bacon circumstances - these people whose lives are changed, forever, unimaginable. There are truly no words. What can you say?

I was numb, in disbelief. Worried. I was sad. And then, then I got pissed.

This is my reality now. Horrifying news, in my 'backyard.' I see posts on twitter or Facebook like "imagine if this happened all the time" or "this is what it's like to live in X Y or Z." And all I want to do? Scream, FUCK THAT. I don't live in X Y or Z. I do not want to imagine what it would be like for this to be normal. I shouldn't have to, no one should. But more than that? My babies shouldn't have to. But they do. Scratch that, they don't have to imagine what it would be like where shit like this is normal - because in their small and short life times: the middle of September will always be a dark time, shootings at colleges, movie theaters, fucking elementary schools - it's possible. And now bombings - it's all in the realm of their reality. And so much more, and not in a good way "but wait - there's more!" - pedophiles, kidnapping, parents killing children, children killing children, bad people doing bad things. Oh "but wait - there's more" - all the things that cannot be controlled - sickness, disease, accidents, natural disasters. Fuck.

(It's around this time, I needed to take a break. I was feeling like all I wanted to do was say fuck and it was feeling like too much. So I backed away from this post and I saw this. And that's when I realized there was entirely not enough fucks articulated. Because this sums it up: Fuck this week written by Lindy West on Jezebel.)

Taken about a week ago.
When she was that much safer.

So where was I? Oh right. Horrified & numb with sadness.

I'm scared for all of us, literally and figuratively. I'm angry. I'm angry my baby (even if she is 5 years old) tells me in the wrap up of her day she hides in her cubby in her classroom when they have "lock down practice."  Then I have to be asked "Mommy, are you crying???" What the hell happened to fire drills? Am I grateful schools are getting prepared and smart about the threat that is out there? Absolutely. Am I pissed that the threat is there? More than absolutely.

Do I run my own drills with her? Yes. 100%. How to scream "this isn't my Mommy/Daddy help me!!!" if someone grabs her. To look for helpers - other mommies or daddies with lots of kids or the police or firefighters. The helpers, that there are good people in this world - but hell if I'm not going to give her some strategies for the sick bastards out there. To run and scream and don't be afraid. Because that's our God damn reality. That's hers. And I'm so fucking angry about. I'm so fucking sad.

I want to protect her from the unimaginable. The heavy in my heart, it is actually imaginable possibilities, she may witness or experience. Obviously. More than that? I want to protect her from the knowledge of the possibility of the horrific (un)imaginable events.  She's 5, but what about the baby baby (1 years old)? What in the hell will be her reality? 

On Friday, the kid wanted to wear her Red Sox cap. Boston pride. She wanted to wear it because it's her favorite hat. She loves Boston, she loves that hat. She was born there - visits fairly regularly. See: family & friends in the area. It's her first home. Frankly? She just loves the damn hat. She loves telling people about Boston. We've moved around a lot, it's her schtick. She saw me wearing mine. I don't know why she wanted to wear it. But on Friday, I talked her (gently) out of wearing the hat. Not because I don't love her pride in (one of) her hometowns, but I didn't want someone to think that she knew. She's in kindergarten, why would someone talk to her about the bombing, just because of her hat? I don't know, but I don't want to find out. I want her to be naive to her reality for as long as possible.

She'll experience loss in her life. Her great-grandmothers, her grandparents - God willing - eventually her parents. Possibly friends & other family members. In the order it is naturally intended. For just a little while longer, I need her to not know the (un)imaginable. For her not to be as angry and sad as I am - just for a little while longer.

Sisterhood in motherhood

I was speaking with a friend the other day, a mother herself. We shared stories about trying to find friends. Not the friends you grew up with, went to college with, worked with - your mommy friends.  The friends you hear you'll find in a mother's group or at the hospital with your baby.  Their children and your children will be besties.  The women you'll find that are in this moment with you - your sisters in motherhood. They share your experiences, they understand what you are going through.  You'll go to the park. You'll have play dates. It'll be grand.

I have friends in my life, that are my family - they are my sisters. That's not what I'm after. Though if I'm being honest, I wouldn't mind a good local lifetime friend up in here. It's more so, I imagined that this whole motherhood gig would bare a sisterhood among other mommies. A bond or respect that is instant or at the very least likely.

Except it's not.

I'm sure these groups or people exist, somewhere. I'm not saying these magical mommies are the unicorns of Fantasyland. I am saying, I'd fall over if I met one.

This friend I was speaking to? She has three girls, all somewhere around my age. Home girl was speaking from experience... but guess what? It hasn't gotten any better, not from my vantage point. What the hell, I thought everything got better with time?

If you are going to say any combination of the following, I don't want to hear it:

• Get out there!
• Be patient. 
• Are you getting involved?
• Have you tried local mother groups?

I've tried it all.

I join online groups (meetup.com, local Facebook groups) and I have been kicked out of more than one. Why? Because I can't commit to the daytime play dates. I work. Let's not get into that divide, the continued debate, the {dramatic music} mommy war.

What the hell, ladies, I can't meet for coffee at 9:15 or story time at 11 and you can't do this girl a solid and let me be involved virtually to start? It's freaking meetupDOTcom. It's a freaking website. I told you I would meet up at some point, just needed to work some things out. What's that? None of you want to meet in any hour that is after 5 pm or on the weekend? Awesome. Leave me out in the cold? Thanks. I really feel that sisterhood, especially when I get another deactivation notice in my inbox. Nothing says solidarity like a "you can't be in our club" notice.

Said profile picture that
repels people.

Facebook? I've reached out to people and volunteered where I can for local events. Nothing. The group leader puts out a request for volunteers - message me - they say. Message I do and I don't get a response back. Is my profile picture not friendly enough? For God sake we're a freaking Pinterest dream right here.

I've signed up for classroom activities, reached out to other parents in the class to see how I can help and on more than one occasion received a "we're all set." I've attempted to volunteer directly through the PTO and received little encouragement if any response. It's as if, they have their tribe - their people - and not taking new recruits. They are all set. My oldest is in kindergarten. For all intents and purposes, I will be in the district for years to come. Wouldn't you want to let me in, if only for the tenure I have to offer? I've attended a PTO meeting in a room full of people who all knew one another. Not one person introduced themselves. I smiled, I said hello, I was friendly.  I was shy, but not unwelcoming. In the same meeting they discussed how more parents need to be involved and how could they get people to be more active?

It took all I had in me to not raise my hand, "Suggestion from the peanut gallery - a little 'hello, and how do you do' is a start. Playing hard to get as adults is not cute."
Side note: Someone is saying to themselves: "Are you this hostile in real life? Cause I think I found the issue." No, I'm not. That's why I didn't contribute in that moment, because I likely wouldn't have been able to be all calm about it. Someone who knows me is thinking, "You are TOTALLY this hostile." And to that I say: it's different if we already know each other.

Could I have been more aggressive (in a nice way), could I have stuck out my hand and introduced myself? Absolutely. I have. It still gets me nowhere.

At a recent meetup activity I was able to attend, I introduced myself to another mom. Stuck my hand out and said hello.  You know what she did? Didn't take her eyes off her phone. She was on meetup.com to see the RSVP list. She said she wanted to "see if she recognized anyone by their picture to introduce herself to." As I was introducing myself, live - and in person. 

I have this dream that I'll find my tribe. Forget the tribe, I'll take a warm body (that makes some semblance of eye contact). They have to be out there, right?  I'm looking for quality over quantity. I'm hoping for one person to let me in their club; to show me this comradery of motherhood - face to face.

Side note: did you know they make 'mommy play date cards'? I can't seem to get a hello, but somewhere, someone out there is meeting so many people she needs freaking business cards? How in the hell?

Source: etsy.com via Amanda on Pinterest

I'm going to keep trying. I'm going to keep at it. It doesn't help I'm coming from a place of starting out.  I've been the new girl for the last few years. I'm always starting this search. I cannot wait to not be the new one. When I come in contact with the 'next' new person - hold on, girl. Mama's gonna make you feel welcome, it will be uncomfortable for both of us - I'm sure.  I can assure you it's better than the alternative.

When you don't know what to say...

you point in the direction of people who have the words you wish you could articulate.

On returning back to "normal" - Brenna (Suburban Snapshots) hits the nail on head, as usual: The Slow Return to Our New Normal.

On why I'm not talking to the kid about Sandy Hook. Why I don't want to talk about it, to anyone - Catherine (Her Bad Mother) creepily in my head and better than I could ever construct : Why I'm Not Talking To My Kids About Sandy Hook.

Trying to laugh again, Allison (Motherhood, WTF) points to those who will let you get your giggle on: Gotta Laugh.

That's all I've got.

Cute ass Christmasry has been happening all around me, and I'm present in those moments. 100%. But when I sit down, here, I'm not here. I'm empty. I'm going to get back into our new normal, but not quite today. Soon.

Unimaginable.

There is no question when a life is taken, at any age, it is sad.  That's not even the word.  Something like that, but worse. And harder.

But these children?

I was entrenched into a workday when news hit of this tragedy, this unimaginable horror in Sandy Hook, Connecticut. Blissfully, unaware. I came downstairs a little after lunch to learn about a school shooting. Terrible. Awful. Another. Why?

But then, but then I learned it's a class of kindergarten children, a first grade class? Babies. Babies like my baby.

I almost can't process this. I almost wish I couldn't. I want to be angrier, but I'm just too sad. Heavy hearted, in a way that I would describe as unimaginable, but how can I? My babies are here with me. To be a parent, to lose your baby at anytime, it's unimaginable.  That's not even the word.  Something like that, but worse. And harder.  But like this? Senseless. That's not even the word. Something like that, but worse. And harder.

I don't want to watch the news. But I need to watch. I need to know why. Not that why will make sense. Not that there is a reason or explanation. What was the catalyst? Not that it would even matter, but that's where my head is at.  My youngest is napping as I type this and my oldest is at the gym with her daddy. And during this time of quiet there are lists of things I should be doing, and of all the things in the background I choose this horrifying coverage. I'm almost unable but to take in anything else, because I need to know the how and why.  Which is ridiculous. That's not even the word. Something like that, but worse. And harder.

And do we talk to L about this? Of course not, my gut, heart & head scream to me. But what if she asks me about it. What if someone else in her class has a parent that didn't shield her from this. What then?

Side note, as I looked for the answer: I found Cool Mom Picks collected some online resources on talking to your kids (or not).

I don't know how this doesn't change a person, however far, far on the outside I sit. Every moment right now, seems like a reminder. When my baby comes home she's a reminder. I'm reminded to keep this community, and all those parents beyond this moment who have lost a child, in my heart. And as heavy as my heart truly is, there is this massive conflict I feel. Because I am bursting with overwhelming joy.  I'm reminded to be thankful. She's a blessing, she can come home. And I will continue to hold on to that, everyday - forever more.  She'll be coming home.  The alternative is unimaginable. That's not even the word. Something like that, but worse. And harder.

Wishes

We were watching Aladdin the other day and the ball&chain asked the kid, "If you had 3 wishes, what would they be?" Thinking a plug for the cotton candy machine she is asking Santa for....

"I wish for a friend."

BOOM. Heart breaks, shatters, and combusted. All at the same time.  And not in a warm & fuzzy sort of way.

She gets along with everyone in class, according to the teacher. And always has great things to say about school and the kids (mostly) - but hasn't found a connection there.  I can't say that I don't understand.  I get it. I wanted to scream, "ME TOO, GIRL!" But I only accidentally fail at motherhood, I try not to try to fail. So I stay quiet and smile, and reassure her that it takes time to make good friends. It's taken Mommy her whole life, and I still struggle with it.

"Mama, what's struggle."

Inner monologue, "Life, kid. LIFE."
Reality, "When things are hard. When they aren't easy. When you have to try harder to do something."

Happy to be with friends.
At their birthday party.
With cake.

And in reality, it IS hard to make new friends. It's always been that way for me. Among the many traits I hope my kids don't 't get from me, that's my greatest wish. Because this face, this kind of true blue smile? I haven't seen it in awhile and the next time I do? I don't know if I'll be able to hide my happiness.

Life imitating art

Last week we met with a bunch of L's little friends.  I searched through my history - apparently I didn't write about this, but when we moved here, we wanted to make her 4th birthday special. We had always had family birthday parties - our friends & family would join together and celebrate our little girl. Here, in the STL - we didn't have many friends (2 1/2, generously) and no family - so we wanted to throw her a special party and invite all of her new friends, in class. We rented out a space and hosted a wonderful craft party. She chose "Under the Sea" theme and they made mermaids out of clothes pins, scratch art fish, and a bunch of other crap art. They all loved it. And in a weird twist, we (the new kids) introduced these kids (and their parents) to this little shop, the Craft Caboose.

Fast forward, every few months over the course of the last year, a few moms would get together. We would bring the kids to a craft class and for an hour we would have coffee & chat.  L loved this special time. For our bucket list of STL - one of the first things she wanted to do was go to the Caboose. I emailed the moms and we got the kids together. While, I didn't start with "this is our finale tour you will never see us again" in the back and forth I mentioned we were moving. 

While we were leaving the 'Boose, one of her buddies came up to her to say goodbye & this happened.

"L. I think I won't see you again, because you are moving. I'm really going to miss you. I'm really sad."

And then something about being a really good friend, the details are blurry because I melted into mush. Instantly. And then they hugged. (Side note: seriously, is it just me or can you see L holding on for dear life?)

We got in the car, and it started.

"I don't want to move."
"I love it here."
"I love my friends."
"I'm gonna miss St. Louis."
"I'm going to miss my friends."

I told her, I know. And I love it here, too. I'll miss her friends - our friends - our house - I understand. But we'll have a good time - it will be exciting! A new adventure!!! Remember what it was like last time? We felt the same feelings, and look at how much we love St. Louis and our new friends? It will all work out.

Her response?

"I know, Mommy - but I can miss my friends, too."

------

We had movie night. When it's move time, we eat pasta as much as possible and watch movies during the week. Basically, it's my survival. We watched Monsters, Inc. If you don't know the movie - it's hard to explain without really losing you on reality. Essentially monsters, in Monster World, need to gather screams from children to have power (get it? monster in the closet). It turns out, while they scare kids to gain power (electricity - not world domination) - they are really terrified of children. It's the strongest of the strong who lead the monster world. The main character, Sully (big blue guy), is the lead scarer and one day he comes upon a little girl (she slips through her closet door - the gateway to our world). Sully names her "Boo." Hilarious adventures ensue - fast forward, bad guy, good prevails and the energy crises is saved by finding out that laughter actually produces more energy than screams. After the victory Boo's closet door has to be destroyed, as she's "seen too much." This means Sully (Boo calls him, Kitty) can never see his little girl, ever again. It's sad.



In the end, Sully's buddy (Mike) puts together Boo's closet door so he can visit Boo again. And this happens.

Disclaimer: the only stupid clip I can find is one where some guy is crying in the background. But basically this is the scene where Sully's best friend, Mike (green guy) makes sure Sully can see Boo again. If nothing else, you need to see the end of the scene. Where Sully smiles.


As the credits roll, L immediately looks up at me and asks, "Why is he smiling like that?"

I explain, Sully is happy to see Boo - he missed her very much.

Almost immediately, she breaks open. Tears, sobbing, broken heart spilling all over our couch.

I ask her, "What are you feeling? What's going on, kid?"

She responds, "I don't know. He's just. Just, so cute."

But she doesn't need to explain. Her heart hurts, and there are no God damn closet doors she can walk through to see her friends - ever again. She will miss them, hard. And eventually it will fade and they will barely know the other existed - but right now? Right now, it's all she knows.

The beginning. The spiral.

My baby is four years old. She's not a baby, but she's my baby and I don't know how I will survive her.  She's a caring little lady. She's funny. She's smart. She's mine. She's ours.  She's loving. She is the best big sister, I think that was ever made. She lights up whenever she plays with her little buddies. She loves to make new friends and is thrilled every time she meets a new little playmate. She is, as you can imagine, the best.

She is sensitive. She feels things so deeply. She's a people pleaser. She wants everyone to like her. It's scares the shit out of me. Do I want her to be a bull? No. But with some balance, I want her to be herself. I find, that she goes with what other kids do. She's really fixated on friends now a days. It started a few weeks ago. "Mama, is Jez your best friend? Is Liza? Who was your best friend when you were a little girl? What do you mean you have many best friends? What do you mean, Daddy is your best friend? He's your HUSBAND, he isn't your best friend."

Sigh. 

She comes home from the park and will say, "Mama, I met a new best friend!" She doesn't remember her name.  Or we'll go for a bike ride and she'll pass a little girl she once played with at a totally different park and say, "Oh look - she could be my best friend!"

I try to explain, best friends will come in time. It's good to be a good friend to people, and they good friends to you. That not everyone will like you and you may not like everyone - but we're always respectful and kind. I try to explain that through out my life I have had many different groups of friends and some of my very best friends I haven't spoken to in weeks, some even months - but we love each other and we've been there for each other and we'll be there for each other. I might have gone over her head on that one. But we try to be honest, even if it's awkward and it usually is.

It's starting to spiral.  

The kid used to play at least once a week with some kids on our corner over the summer. Our au pair was friends with their nanny.  I remember before our au pair left she said, "Please make sure they still play!" And I said of course; I meant it. I tried to keep the connection. I really did. I waved when we saw them. I texted a few times. Just the other week we texted and she said we'd get the kids together, she'd look at the calendar and I never heard back. And every day my little girl would ask, "Are we going to play with them today?" And everyday I would explain I hadn't heard back yet and we couldn't really just show up. We saw them the other day, with their parents. There was a block party and we stayed for as long as we could but it was awkward. Do the kids not love our little girl the way they should? WHY NOT? I don't understand it. How can her little heart get it? The parents have their friends. The kids have theirs. And our little girl just wants a god damn best friend. Awk.WARD. We left that day and on the way home she realized she didn't really say goodbye. She.lost.her.mind. How do you tell your hurting little, tantrum throwing, girl that they just aren't that into her. 

Heart.Wrenching.

Yesterday, she got home from school. We asked the normal questions, "How was your day? What did you do?" The ball & chain mentioned to me she seemed near tears. She was sad. I tried to talk to her, but she said she didn't want to talk about it. 

A little while later, quietly, she started to tell a story. Timid. Scared to tell me. 

"Will* said he wasn't my friend, anymore. And then I asked Timmy* and he told me that maybe he was still my friend."

And.I.Die.

Not in a cute, isn't that adorable kind of way. 

Today she came home. I asked the normal questions "How was your day? What did you do?" I had to ask. "How were things with Will?"

She started to tell me. Timid. Scared to tell me. 

"I told him I was sorry... cause I asked him a million times. Why won't you be my friend? Cause I don't understand." 

How in the hell do I help her? How can I protect her from this disappointment? At the very least, help her deal with this sadness. I certainly can't handle it, how can her little heart? 

*Names have been changed to protect the stupid bastards from MY best friends. Even if they may or may not be 5 years old.

The Price of Distance

I'm still trying to sum up our trip to the Northeast a few weeks ago. As I reflect, there are some good ol'fashion mayhem stories, funny stories, but there's also another side to the trip that is nagging on me. There is a price to living so far away. A price that weighs on my little family, it weighs on me. Am I the only person who lives far from their friends and family that gets this? I don't even know if company would help to ease the burden of distance.

In a few short months, we will have been in our new home for a year. A new city, new state, half way across the country from our family and many friends. Here's the thing about being away: it isn't always awful. I know many of our friends & family hate it. I know this because they beat it into every conversation or visit we have. Actually, let me clarify... here's the thing about being away: it isn't awful at all. It's a certain kind of wonderful, with the exception of when we are visiting or having conversations where we are told how awful it is.

Guess what? We know where we live. We know we are far. We know that it isn't easy. We know you miss us. We miss you, too, for the most part.  Ironically, how people handle our distance actually makes me miss you less. True story. 

There is a TON that we are grateful for, when it comes to how far we are. It's true. Why does that irritate people to hear?   And if it doesn't, why do they behave as such when we talk about how much we love our new life? We live in an amazing neighborhood, outside of a city that has a lot to offer. There are parades, street parties, farms and zoos. Tons of things to do with the kids, good food, beer is everywhere, a great little (temporary) home and a gift of successful and enjoyable careers. We go to parks, shop at small markets, walk to dinner or out for an ice cream treat for the kid. There are new neighborhoods to explore and favorite spots we like to frequent.  We love the STL.

The fact that friends and family aren't close, it's hard. We miss out on fun get togethers, dinners, weekends away, parties and celebrations. Here's the thing, that maybe no one else will say.  You know what else we love? We miss out on fun get togethers, dinners, weekends away, parties and celebrations.

This gives us, our family unit, a unique opportunity.  A chance to enjoy each other, get to know each other and bond in a way that let me tell you: you don't get when you are stressed and driving all over God's creation to participate in fun get togethers, dinners, weekends away, parties and celebrations. We get to make new family traditions and special holidays that make our kid's eyes light up.  Why aren't more of our friends and family excited about the opportunity we get to have strengthening our family unit? Maybe they are, but why don't I see that in their actions or the words they use?

I'm trying to be okay with it. Use these experiences to add to my list; my "I'll never" list. Maybe my friends who move away will appreciate it.  Or perhaps when it's my turn, someone will be forwarding me this link to remind me.  When it comes to my kids? I'm sure if I forget this valuable lesson they'll fire up the antique internet and throw it in my face. At least I hope they do, because I want them to be happy. Near or far. I know, at the heart of things, our friends & family are happy we are happy. I just wish that it was less about their experience.  I want them to feel our happiness.

Self indulgent disclaimer: I am writing about this, because it's part of my story. It's how I feel, and maybe you don't understand - but this site helps me. It is the cheapest gD therapy on the market. I am writing about this, because it's what I do and if I didn't I wouldn't be staying true to myself and why I have a blog. I am not talking to one person or even two. It's a theme I experienced. You, the person internalizing this, (I am assuming many will) I hope you think about this in another way.  You're lucky!  Not only would I talk to you about this given the opportunity, but you get to read my thoughts. You're welcome. Now since you are internalizing it, perhaps it's because you know you lament over our distance. Let up next time, huh. Enjoy the time together and let's spend less time complaining about how little time we have.