So I wasn't sure I would ever write this post, but I guess it might be okay to do so now.
As of today, it's been two months and two days since I stopped using smokeless tobacco. This is not the first time I've quit, or even the longest I've gone, but this does feel like the most permanent.
This might come as a surprise to some, but I hid my tobacco use from my wife for quite some time. I had quit after we got married but eventually I began again. I couldn't tell her. Eventually I became reckless and she found the damning evidence. It was a very, very bad day. She says it was the worst day she's had.
Instead of being some tough guy who tried to quit everything altogether, I recognized (probably because of past failures) that it wasn't so much the nicotine or tobacco I craved, it was simply having that something in my mouth. (Yes, I realize this is a topic that disgusts many)
So when I stopped chewing, I replaced it with "fake chew", which is tobacco free and manufactured to look, smell, and taste like the real stuff. I'd tried this before, years ago, and found it to be like plastic, but like most things, they've come a long way. In case you were wondering, Smokey Mountain brand Cherry or Peach is what quelled the cravings for the better part of two months. And by the way, tomorrow will be a week without even using the fake stuff. Now I just chew gum when I "need a fix", so to speak.
Over the past several months, I've taken steps to improve myself, which is something I probably wouldn't have been aware enough to do, let alone motivated enough, without my wife. Once again, she is the my inspiration in all things. I have tried to become more in tuned with my reactions to others, my relationships with my kids, all at her urging. Even if I had thought to do it myself, I likely wouldn't have thought me worth the effort.
This tobacco thing is as much for her as anyone, but just like everything else in the past four years, I find that when I do things for her, they end up really benefiting me as well.
I didn't write this post to be congratulated or patted on the back for a job well done. This isn't that at all. I failed at quitting more than once before this time, but I feel good about the end of this quest being fruitful. I don't feel good about doing what I did to my wife. Hopefully I'll be able to restore her faith in me.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Thursday, February 2, 2012
staying up to date
My wife mentioned to me the other day that this site has been a bit neglected of late. I have given her nudge some thought, and I've realized that this is basically because I've been in a really happy place. I don't want to borrow from Charlie Sheen here or anything, but I've been winning, and as any good baseball blogger will tell you, it's much easier to write when the team is losing. When they win, you kinda forget about the dropped fly ball or the missed cut-off man or the errant throw that lead to a run. Winning cures all ails. When the club is going bad, each of those examples become its own piece on your site. There are countless ways to break down a loss, but far fewer ways to dissect a win.
That's sort of how my life has been lately, which means fewer posts. I'll try to work on that.
Amity has been so wonderful. She's growing into this little person. She and Leyton look out for each other always, which is good because someone needs to protect Leyton (haha). They have little conversations and if one of them gets a snack or a piece of candy, they immediate ask for another one for their sibling. Sebastian and Lillian used to do the exact same thing. That's so cool to see that behavior repeated. I'm glad we're having a boy, but not just because it's a boy. I think it's great that Amity will get to stay Mommy's little baby girl. Valerie deserves that, and I don't think we could handle another girl getting as spoiled as this one has been.
Valerie is down to about a month left at work before she'll take off to wait for the arrival of our new baby. I was talking with Braden (my brother-in-law) last night and he remarked how he often forgets that she's pregnant. I almost do as well. She works so hard at that pig farm and then has to come home and take care of the kids and house for three hours before I get there. Even afterward, it's not like the kids suddenly leave her alone. She just keeps going, but I think that's only because she knows the end is in sight. This woman needs a vacation. And she deserves one as well.
I started this weight loss thing at work. A "Biggest Loser" type thing with teams of four. The contest lasts six weeks and only cost $25 and that came with a gym membership. So far so good for the most part. I'm down ten pounds since we started this (10 days ago as I write). It would be more, I'm sure, without some Pizza Hut buffet involved. I think I'm skipping next week though, I didn't feel so good last night after eating that grease. I guess when you only have it on rare occasions, it's not nearly as appetizing. Plus then I have to spend that much more time on that damned elliptical. The Super Bowl is this Sunday as well, so I'm not counting on a big weight loss week. That's okay though, I feel much better already and I think this is something I can stay with in the longer-term. We'll see though. It's always exciting in the beginning. Sooner or later, the realities of doing the work actually set in. Maybe this time is different.
Oh and apparently my side job as a baseball writer is something the IRS doesn't appreciate. I have to file taxes as self-employed so now I have to come up with a list of expenses that I can deduct. It's all too much for me; I'm going to H&R Block tomorrow. Hopefully this doesn't prevent us from getting that siding installed this year.
We almost lost a cat this week and may not be out of the woods. Murray (muh-RAY, female) is giant fat, but she usually isn't lethargic. Valerie took her to the vet and after many tests (and a temp of over 104) they came back with a diagnosis of severe anemia. Apparently this caused her blood to turn very thick. The options we had were to put the cat down (kill her), send her to Columbus for a $1200 blood transfusion and a lifetime of steroids, or a long-acting steroid that may or may not work. Valerie chose the steroid and took Murray home. That night she layed in one spot and never moved. Yesterday she was up and around a bit more. This morning, Murray had enough energy to start acting almost normal. I'm hopeful she'll be fine. It looks like she's feeling better.
Did you know that Lillian is only six? I need to remember that sometimes. So does she. She may as well be 15. Last night she was arm wrestling with Steph and there was an honest struggle involved. Of course, Lillian was using the wrong grip and was creating unfair leverage, but she's SIX and Steph is twenty-something. This should have been no-contest. Lillian is strong like bull. She's also exceptionally smart and self-sufficient, which is why I forget that she's still so young.
I feel like I need to mention everyone in these posts and that troubles me. I want this to be as organic as possible, which is why I've never written on a schedule here. At the same time, I almost don't want to mention everyone. The problem is that this is supposed to be a site for the children to someday look back upon. But it's also a place that a handful of my family members know about and read in the present-day. I also know that Valerie doesn't like the idea of airing our dirty laundry, so to speak, and the last thing I want is to cause a fight.
So I'm stuck between telling the world that I do have concerns about Sebastian, about his lack of attention, his unwillingness to try to learn how to do things, his emotional outbursts caused by seemingly small issues (or no issues at all), and between keeping those concerns hidden from the prying eyes of others. In keeping them hidden, however, I am not being honest with the kids. I also don't want Sebastian to read this one day and think I didn't love him, because I do. He has such a good heart and he loves to help whenever Valerie or I give him a task to do.
At the same time, though, I feel like this site should be about more than just painting the prettiest picture of our household. We aren't the Cosbys; there are actual issues and actually problems and those cannot be wrapped up in a thirty minute sitcom. But, there are also wonderful times and tiny little moments of amazement and those times far, far exceed the rough patches.
That's sort of how my life has been lately, which means fewer posts. I'll try to work on that.
Amity has been so wonderful. She's growing into this little person. She and Leyton look out for each other always, which is good because someone needs to protect Leyton (haha). They have little conversations and if one of them gets a snack or a piece of candy, they immediate ask for another one for their sibling. Sebastian and Lillian used to do the exact same thing. That's so cool to see that behavior repeated. I'm glad we're having a boy, but not just because it's a boy. I think it's great that Amity will get to stay Mommy's little baby girl. Valerie deserves that, and I don't think we could handle another girl getting as spoiled as this one has been.
Valerie is down to about a month left at work before she'll take off to wait for the arrival of our new baby. I was talking with Braden (my brother-in-law) last night and he remarked how he often forgets that she's pregnant. I almost do as well. She works so hard at that pig farm and then has to come home and take care of the kids and house for three hours before I get there. Even afterward, it's not like the kids suddenly leave her alone. She just keeps going, but I think that's only because she knows the end is in sight. This woman needs a vacation. And she deserves one as well.
I started this weight loss thing at work. A "Biggest Loser" type thing with teams of four. The contest lasts six weeks and only cost $25 and that came with a gym membership. So far so good for the most part. I'm down ten pounds since we started this (10 days ago as I write). It would be more, I'm sure, without some Pizza Hut buffet involved. I think I'm skipping next week though, I didn't feel so good last night after eating that grease. I guess when you only have it on rare occasions, it's not nearly as appetizing. Plus then I have to spend that much more time on that damned elliptical. The Super Bowl is this Sunday as well, so I'm not counting on a big weight loss week. That's okay though, I feel much better already and I think this is something I can stay with in the longer-term. We'll see though. It's always exciting in the beginning. Sooner or later, the realities of doing the work actually set in. Maybe this time is different.
Oh and apparently my side job as a baseball writer is something the IRS doesn't appreciate. I have to file taxes as self-employed so now I have to come up with a list of expenses that I can deduct. It's all too much for me; I'm going to H&R Block tomorrow. Hopefully this doesn't prevent us from getting that siding installed this year.
We almost lost a cat this week and may not be out of the woods. Murray (muh-RAY, female) is giant fat, but she usually isn't lethargic. Valerie took her to the vet and after many tests (and a temp of over 104) they came back with a diagnosis of severe anemia. Apparently this caused her blood to turn very thick. The options we had were to put the cat down (kill her), send her to Columbus for a $1200 blood transfusion and a lifetime of steroids, or a long-acting steroid that may or may not work. Valerie chose the steroid and took Murray home. That night she layed in one spot and never moved. Yesterday she was up and around a bit more. This morning, Murray had enough energy to start acting almost normal. I'm hopeful she'll be fine. It looks like she's feeling better.
Did you know that Lillian is only six? I need to remember that sometimes. So does she. She may as well be 15. Last night she was arm wrestling with Steph and there was an honest struggle involved. Of course, Lillian was using the wrong grip and was creating unfair leverage, but she's SIX and Steph is twenty-something. This should have been no-contest. Lillian is strong like bull. She's also exceptionally smart and self-sufficient, which is why I forget that she's still so young.
I feel like I need to mention everyone in these posts and that troubles me. I want this to be as organic as possible, which is why I've never written on a schedule here. At the same time, I almost don't want to mention everyone. The problem is that this is supposed to be a site for the children to someday look back upon. But it's also a place that a handful of my family members know about and read in the present-day. I also know that Valerie doesn't like the idea of airing our dirty laundry, so to speak, and the last thing I want is to cause a fight.
So I'm stuck between telling the world that I do have concerns about Sebastian, about his lack of attention, his unwillingness to try to learn how to do things, his emotional outbursts caused by seemingly small issues (or no issues at all), and between keeping those concerns hidden from the prying eyes of others. In keeping them hidden, however, I am not being honest with the kids. I also don't want Sebastian to read this one day and think I didn't love him, because I do. He has such a good heart and he loves to help whenever Valerie or I give him a task to do.
At the same time, though, I feel like this site should be about more than just painting the prettiest picture of our household. We aren't the Cosbys; there are actual issues and actually problems and those cannot be wrapped up in a thirty minute sitcom. But, there are also wonderful times and tiny little moments of amazement and those times far, far exceed the rough patches.
Monday, January 9, 2012
The First Major Fallout From This Site
I suppose it shouldn't come as a surprise, but a couple of my posts here have ruffled some feathers among my family. When I decided that I wanted to use this site to give light to my inner-most thoughts and ideas, and vowed to do so will complete honesty, I understood that this outcome was possible. Probable, in fact.
This post could go a couple of different ways right now. I could issue a blanket apology and make everyone happy. Conformity is always the path of least resistance, after all. Or, I could hold my ground and hide behind the idea of complete honesty, as if that gives me carte blanche to piss of as many people as possible. It doesn't.
Instead, I think I'll try to find a middle ground, because I don't think that either of the above options are the right way for me to go. And if this blog is to be for my children someday, I don't want the lesson learned here to be either of the above. To follow either of those paths would be to allow society to determine your behavior. In situations such as these, you should always be true to yourself first.
Let me start by saying that the issues I have discussed here in recent months did not necessarily need discussed. Which is to say, I guess, that those issues did not need to be made public. In my opinion, they did need discussed, if only with myself. Again, I understood when I began this writing project that there would be the risk of alienating some people. That's not what I want, but it also would be going complete against my goals here to hide from my thoughts and feelings. This site is intended for my kids to get to know me; the real me. To see what's hidden from public view. I don't promote this site at all; I don't care one lick if no one ever reads it until my kids are old enough to do so. But the fact is that there are people who are aware of its existence and some of those people have been offended by what I have written.
I was told that I owe apologies to certain people and I've given that a lot of thought. What would I be apologizing for? I don't mean to come off as crass here, that wasn't a throw-away line at all. If I am to apologize, I'd damn well better understand that something I did was wrong. I spoke my feelings, even if they were in an agitated state. Those feelings were truthful at the moment I wrote them. Does that mean that those are always my feelings? Of course not. Just the same as you may love pizza but can't stand the idea of eating it on a given day. People's ideas and feelings about other people (or pizza) change and shift in multiple directions seemingly at all times. So I really don't think I should apologize for that.
The other option, again, is that perhaps an apology is warranted to airing these feelings publicly. I assume this is why I was told to apologize in the first place. Certainly, my sister did not ask to be included in my ran the other week. I probably shouldn't have been directed as much toward her as it was, either. The people I truly should have been ranting to and about were Dad and Vickie. It is, after all, their house that was involved. It was their trip home that stirred all of this up. Does that mean it was all their fault? Not, not at all. I fully recognize that my reactions to the outside world are completely within my control. If a situation or a person is upsetting to me, it is not the fault of the situation or person; it is my job to adjust my reaction, as I will not be able to change the outside condition.
That said, the fact remains that I did write and publish a piece here that called out my sister and placed some blame at her feet for a situation that she probably didn't completely cause. So I will issue an apology for that much. I was agitated and took to my keyboard, not caring if I had my facts straight, though I believed at the time I did. I should have been more diligent about my research there.
I also understand that my post caused some tension between Dad and Vickie. That certainly was not the goal either. When Dad hit town and began making plans to see my family exactly once during the 10 or so days he would be around, I was hurt by that. Writing the post that I wrote was probably equal parts a need to get the feelings off of my chest, and a passive-aggressive way to alert them of how I felt, without the unpleasantness of a confrontation. It was a childish was to solve a problem, but I'm happy to say that my message was heard, at least somewhat. While Dad, it seems, focused too strongly on the discussion of material items (for the record, I don't WANT anything. The idea of splitting goods came from the Hershey talks. I guess I just assumed that hadn't changed. Either way, they were still moving out.), he was able to determine that it wasn't okay with me that my kids would see their grandparents once in a seven month period, not when they'd be in town for that length of time.
As it turned out, we saw them four times in total. And it was great.
My blog post caused at least a couple of fights and probably quite a few hurt feelings, but if it also caused me and my family to spend three extra days worth of visits with my parents before they left town again, well, then it was worth writing.
This post could go a couple of different ways right now. I could issue a blanket apology and make everyone happy. Conformity is always the path of least resistance, after all. Or, I could hold my ground and hide behind the idea of complete honesty, as if that gives me carte blanche to piss of as many people as possible. It doesn't.
Instead, I think I'll try to find a middle ground, because I don't think that either of the above options are the right way for me to go. And if this blog is to be for my children someday, I don't want the lesson learned here to be either of the above. To follow either of those paths would be to allow society to determine your behavior. In situations such as these, you should always be true to yourself first.
Let me start by saying that the issues I have discussed here in recent months did not necessarily need discussed. Which is to say, I guess, that those issues did not need to be made public. In my opinion, they did need discussed, if only with myself. Again, I understood when I began this writing project that there would be the risk of alienating some people. That's not what I want, but it also would be going complete against my goals here to hide from my thoughts and feelings. This site is intended for my kids to get to know me; the real me. To see what's hidden from public view. I don't promote this site at all; I don't care one lick if no one ever reads it until my kids are old enough to do so. But the fact is that there are people who are aware of its existence and some of those people have been offended by what I have written.
I was told that I owe apologies to certain people and I've given that a lot of thought. What would I be apologizing for? I don't mean to come off as crass here, that wasn't a throw-away line at all. If I am to apologize, I'd damn well better understand that something I did was wrong. I spoke my feelings, even if they were in an agitated state. Those feelings were truthful at the moment I wrote them. Does that mean that those are always my feelings? Of course not. Just the same as you may love pizza but can't stand the idea of eating it on a given day. People's ideas and feelings about other people (or pizza) change and shift in multiple directions seemingly at all times. So I really don't think I should apologize for that.
The other option, again, is that perhaps an apology is warranted to airing these feelings publicly. I assume this is why I was told to apologize in the first place. Certainly, my sister did not ask to be included in my ran the other week. I probably shouldn't have been directed as much toward her as it was, either. The people I truly should have been ranting to and about were Dad and Vickie. It is, after all, their house that was involved. It was their trip home that stirred all of this up. Does that mean it was all their fault? Not, not at all. I fully recognize that my reactions to the outside world are completely within my control. If a situation or a person is upsetting to me, it is not the fault of the situation or person; it is my job to adjust my reaction, as I will not be able to change the outside condition.
That said, the fact remains that I did write and publish a piece here that called out my sister and placed some blame at her feet for a situation that she probably didn't completely cause. So I will issue an apology for that much. I was agitated and took to my keyboard, not caring if I had my facts straight, though I believed at the time I did. I should have been more diligent about my research there.
I also understand that my post caused some tension between Dad and Vickie. That certainly was not the goal either. When Dad hit town and began making plans to see my family exactly once during the 10 or so days he would be around, I was hurt by that. Writing the post that I wrote was probably equal parts a need to get the feelings off of my chest, and a passive-aggressive way to alert them of how I felt, without the unpleasantness of a confrontation. It was a childish was to solve a problem, but I'm happy to say that my message was heard, at least somewhat. While Dad, it seems, focused too strongly on the discussion of material items (for the record, I don't WANT anything. The idea of splitting goods came from the Hershey talks. I guess I just assumed that hadn't changed. Either way, they were still moving out.), he was able to determine that it wasn't okay with me that my kids would see their grandparents once in a seven month period, not when they'd be in town for that length of time.
As it turned out, we saw them four times in total. And it was great.
My blog post caused at least a couple of fights and probably quite a few hurt feelings, but if it also caused me and my family to spend three extra days worth of visits with my parents before they left town again, well, then it was worth writing.
Friday, January 6, 2012
Naming the PTBNL
For those of you who follow baseball, you know what a PTBNL is. That's the back-end of a trade, usually a minor league player; a throw-in on a deal. Many times, a PTBNL (Player To Be Named Later) will be selected from a small list of players, chosen by the acquiring team.
In this instance, however, the PTBNL is a little boy who will be joining our family in a matter of three months or so. Valerie and I have done some things differently with this, our last, pregnancy. We kept the news a secret for as long as possible, we've quietly discussed names between only ourselves. This is a pregnancy for she and I to share, in as much as a pregnancy can be shared. She is, after all, the only one actually carrying the baby.
Anyhow, after a LOT of back and forth, each one of us vetoing suggestions made by the other, we narrowed the working list down to a few names. Valerie and I were watching a game show the other night and casually mentioning names to one another. The contestants were being introduced and Valerie said "okay, we'll name him whatever the third contestant's name is." She was joking, of course, but the laughing stopped when the third contestant's name was revealed (you're on the edge of your seat now, aren't you?). This name was one Valerie and I had mentioned before, and we had both kinda liked it.
Given our history with this name, and the "sign" we were given by having it pop up when Valerie made her off-hand suggestion, it just felt right to go ahead and decide on that one.
So we spent the next however long discussing a first and middle name combination and eventually settled, I think on what our PTBNL will be named, when he's named... later. Nothing is etched in stone (or on a birth certificate), so there remains a chance that we could change our minds. But for now, anyway, I think he's got a name.
In just about 10 weeks, the world will get to meet a little boy by the name of......
In this instance, however, the PTBNL is a little boy who will be joining our family in a matter of three months or so. Valerie and I have done some things differently with this, our last, pregnancy. We kept the news a secret for as long as possible, we've quietly discussed names between only ourselves. This is a pregnancy for she and I to share, in as much as a pregnancy can be shared. She is, after all, the only one actually carrying the baby.
Anyhow, after a LOT of back and forth, each one of us vetoing suggestions made by the other, we narrowed the working list down to a few names. Valerie and I were watching a game show the other night and casually mentioning names to one another. The contestants were being introduced and Valerie said "okay, we'll name him whatever the third contestant's name is." She was joking, of course, but the laughing stopped when the third contestant's name was revealed (you're on the edge of your seat now, aren't you?). This name was one Valerie and I had mentioned before, and we had both kinda liked it.
Given our history with this name, and the "sign" we were given by having it pop up when Valerie made her off-hand suggestion, it just felt right to go ahead and decide on that one.
So we spent the next however long discussing a first and middle name combination and eventually settled, I think on what our PTBNL will be named, when he's named... later. Nothing is etched in stone (or on a birth certificate), so there remains a chance that we could change our minds. But for now, anyway, I think he's got a name.
In just about 10 weeks, the world will get to meet a little boy by the name of......
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
I Don't Even Know Who I Am Anymore
In my capacity as Director of Development for FanSided MLB, I have taken up covering other baseball teams as needed. My old site has really taken off with all the new staff members there and we had a few holes elsewhere, so I took over our Padres coverage at the beginning of November. That lasted only about two weeks before an editor was hired and at that point, I became a Rangers writer.
Covering the Rangers has been much easier to do for me as at least I was familiar with the major league roster. Afterall, the Tigers had just played Texas in the ALCS, so I knew who these guys were. I've been at it for a little over a month now and a strange thing has happened. I didn't really notice it until last night, but I think I'm becoming a Rangers fan (gasp!).
No, don't get me wrong, I still love my Tigers, but since I'm not covering them anymore, I've become much more invested in Texas. Yesterday afternoon, the excitement I had for the Rangers was all based on the traffic to my latest site. Japanese pitcher Yu Darvish had been posted and the Rangers were one of the teams rumored to have placed the high bid. The anticipation caused my traffic to spike to an all-time high, which I was very proud of.
Then a funny thing happened: the Rangers were announced as the high bidder. My reaction was anything but un-biased. I was genuinely happy and excited that Darvish would be pitching for Texas. The Rangers, a significant threat to the Tigers' chances of getting to and winning another World Series, just got markedly better and I was happy about that? I feel sick.
I hope I can attract a new editor for our Rangers site soon. Otherwise I may have to shell out some serious dough for the MLB Extra Innings package. You know, so I can watch my new favorite team. Ugh. Let me get back home to Detroit, soon.
Covering the Rangers has been much easier to do for me as at least I was familiar with the major league roster. Afterall, the Tigers had just played Texas in the ALCS, so I knew who these guys were. I've been at it for a little over a month now and a strange thing has happened. I didn't really notice it until last night, but I think I'm becoming a Rangers fan (gasp!).
No, don't get me wrong, I still love my Tigers, but since I'm not covering them anymore, I've become much more invested in Texas. Yesterday afternoon, the excitement I had for the Rangers was all based on the traffic to my latest site. Japanese pitcher Yu Darvish had been posted and the Rangers were one of the teams rumored to have placed the high bid. The anticipation caused my traffic to spike to an all-time high, which I was very proud of.
Then a funny thing happened: the Rangers were announced as the high bidder. My reaction was anything but un-biased. I was genuinely happy and excited that Darvish would be pitching for Texas. The Rangers, a significant threat to the Tigers' chances of getting to and winning another World Series, just got markedly better and I was happy about that? I feel sick.
I hope I can attract a new editor for our Rangers site soon. Otherwise I may have to shell out some serious dough for the MLB Extra Innings package. You know, so I can watch my new favorite team. Ugh. Let me get back home to Detroit, soon.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Won't Anyone Think of the Children? Oh Wait, Those are Dogs
Sometimes, the purpose of this humble forum become a bit cloudy. Sometimes, I feel like I need to write something here for no reason other than to vent. This, I'm afraid, is probably one of those times.
My dad and step-mom, Vickie, moved away from Lima some 15 weeks ago. Vickie is now a traveling nurse and her new job takes her all over the country. I speak with my dad often on the phone and apart from being obviously bored, he seems to be enjoying his retirement. They have a break of about two weeks before Vickie's next assignment and they have come home to their old house for Christmas. That great, right? Of course, but it's very obviously not how I envisioned things happening three months ago.
It began in early September. They made the announcement that they were leaving and all of a sudden they were gone. There had been plans in place for my sisters and I to split up many of the bigger items that our parents own, as most of that couldn't fit into a fifth wheel camper (their new home). As the only son, I was to have gotten all of Dad's tools, which made sense, since most of those he got from his father. Unfortunately, the move was so quick that a time couldn't be arranged to gather anything. That wouldn't have been an issue but for my younger sister moving into Dad's house. I have no problem with that, of course, I have my own place and someone certainly should keep that place warm in case Dad and Vickie were to decide that this new life of travel wasn't for them. I could always just arrange a time to come to Jen's new home and gather what I needed.
Very quickly, however, that proved to be a problem. I needed an edger and Dad has one. Of course, he didn't take it with him, so I called Jen to see when I could come and get it. The neighbor had borrowed it and long story short is that between getting a hold of the neighbor and finding a time when Jen would be home, I had to wait more than two weeks to edge my sidewalk. It happens. Not a huge deal.
Then our grill finally really began to fall apart. We have a small two-burner model and a family of six (soon to be seven), so when the rust began to give way to gaping holes, Valerie and I decided it was time to buy a new model. When looking through the ads, I recalled that Dad had a giant stainless steel grill in his back yard. I was certain he didn't take that with him so I called and he assured me I could have a grill from his house. He didn't specify that it would be the same one, I guess, but that's what I assumed.
I called Jen to see when I could come get it. Of course, no matter what day or time I suggested, she wouldn't be home. Finally she agreed to leave it out for me (she had installed a locking fence after our parent's moved out, so I could no longer simply access the shed in the back yard.), but when I got there I found a small two-burner model not dissimilar from the one I already had. Gee, thanks, Jen. She is not married, she has no kids. I took her old grill home and while it works great, I still have to use the old one as well in order to cook for my entire family at once. She cooks for one, maybe two if her boyfriend is over. But yeah, obviously she needs the jumbo grill more than I do.
The biggest gut-punch came about three weeks ago, however. Jen stopped by my work to drop off stuff for my wife. While she was there, she asked how Dad was going to host Christmas, as that had been the plan. Dad and Vickie would be living with Jen at their house (at least I assumed it was still their house) and we were all going to come over for the holiday. But Jen has pitbulls and I don't want my kids around them. Jen noted that her dogs would be there, so Dad couldn't host Christmas. I knew where she was going with this and I didn't bite on her attempt to engage me in an argument; we've gone rounds on that one before. She would be unwilling to put the dogs in a bedroom or a cage or the garage or anywhere else for the hour and a half that the grandchildren would be at "her" house. I simply smiled, biting my tongue, and said I didn't know how that would work out.
A few days later, Dad called and told me that they would be coming to my house to visit and drop off gifts when they got home. He said it was because our van wouldn't hold all the gifts and all the kids together, but it sure felt like a convenient excuse to allow Jen's dogs the free reign she wanted for them. I know she is certain they would never bite and they probably wouldn't. But if they did, my kids would be mutilated for life, or worse. That's not a chance I'm willing to take. If they did bite, her dog would also be destroyed, and I can't believe that's a chance she'd be willing to take. But whatever, I guess. I mean, I get it. Her dogs are like children to her. But the thing is, they aren't children; they're pets. She can leave them home unattended; if she did that with kids, she'd have them taken away from her. There is a difference whether she likes it or not. But I digress.
Vickie sent me a text this morning that informed me that Dad has a kidney stone that's being removed late this afternoon. Once that's done, they'll be home, to their old house. I didn't respond to the second text, the one in which Vickie told me where they'd be. I'm sure that Dad will be in no shape to travel, even the 20 minute drive to my house. I would love to bring the kids over to see them instead, but if Jen isn't willing to put her dogs up for a full-family gathering like Christmas, I'm sure asking for an impromptu visit is out of the question.
The sad thing is that the tools and the grill, those are just things. I'll never fight about things. I didn't have them before, so I won't fight about having them now. If it means so much to her to keep them, then let her have 'em. It's silly and childish, but if it makes her feel more loved or favored or whatever, then she can have 'em. But Dad and Vickie always told me, no matter what I did or needed, I'd always be welcome in their house.
Now, that's not true either.
My parents will be home for just a couple of weeks. I wonder if we'll see them for more than an hour while they're here. I'm beginning to think not. And that's not the way it should be.
My dad and step-mom, Vickie, moved away from Lima some 15 weeks ago. Vickie is now a traveling nurse and her new job takes her all over the country. I speak with my dad often on the phone and apart from being obviously bored, he seems to be enjoying his retirement. They have a break of about two weeks before Vickie's next assignment and they have come home to their old house for Christmas. That great, right? Of course, but it's very obviously not how I envisioned things happening three months ago.
It began in early September. They made the announcement that they were leaving and all of a sudden they were gone. There had been plans in place for my sisters and I to split up many of the bigger items that our parents own, as most of that couldn't fit into a fifth wheel camper (their new home). As the only son, I was to have gotten all of Dad's tools, which made sense, since most of those he got from his father. Unfortunately, the move was so quick that a time couldn't be arranged to gather anything. That wouldn't have been an issue but for my younger sister moving into Dad's house. I have no problem with that, of course, I have my own place and someone certainly should keep that place warm in case Dad and Vickie were to decide that this new life of travel wasn't for them. I could always just arrange a time to come to Jen's new home and gather what I needed.
Very quickly, however, that proved to be a problem. I needed an edger and Dad has one. Of course, he didn't take it with him, so I called Jen to see when I could come and get it. The neighbor had borrowed it and long story short is that between getting a hold of the neighbor and finding a time when Jen would be home, I had to wait more than two weeks to edge my sidewalk. It happens. Not a huge deal.
Then our grill finally really began to fall apart. We have a small two-burner model and a family of six (soon to be seven), so when the rust began to give way to gaping holes, Valerie and I decided it was time to buy a new model. When looking through the ads, I recalled that Dad had a giant stainless steel grill in his back yard. I was certain he didn't take that with him so I called and he assured me I could have a grill from his house. He didn't specify that it would be the same one, I guess, but that's what I assumed.
I called Jen to see when I could come get it. Of course, no matter what day or time I suggested, she wouldn't be home. Finally she agreed to leave it out for me (she had installed a locking fence after our parent's moved out, so I could no longer simply access the shed in the back yard.), but when I got there I found a small two-burner model not dissimilar from the one I already had. Gee, thanks, Jen. She is not married, she has no kids. I took her old grill home and while it works great, I still have to use the old one as well in order to cook for my entire family at once. She cooks for one, maybe two if her boyfriend is over. But yeah, obviously she needs the jumbo grill more than I do.
The biggest gut-punch came about three weeks ago, however. Jen stopped by my work to drop off stuff for my wife. While she was there, she asked how Dad was going to host Christmas, as that had been the plan. Dad and Vickie would be living with Jen at their house (at least I assumed it was still their house) and we were all going to come over for the holiday. But Jen has pitbulls and I don't want my kids around them. Jen noted that her dogs would be there, so Dad couldn't host Christmas. I knew where she was going with this and I didn't bite on her attempt to engage me in an argument; we've gone rounds on that one before. She would be unwilling to put the dogs in a bedroom or a cage or the garage or anywhere else for the hour and a half that the grandchildren would be at "her" house. I simply smiled, biting my tongue, and said I didn't know how that would work out.
A few days later, Dad called and told me that they would be coming to my house to visit and drop off gifts when they got home. He said it was because our van wouldn't hold all the gifts and all the kids together, but it sure felt like a convenient excuse to allow Jen's dogs the free reign she wanted for them. I know she is certain they would never bite and they probably wouldn't. But if they did, my kids would be mutilated for life, or worse. That's not a chance I'm willing to take. If they did bite, her dog would also be destroyed, and I can't believe that's a chance she'd be willing to take. But whatever, I guess. I mean, I get it. Her dogs are like children to her. But the thing is, they aren't children; they're pets. She can leave them home unattended; if she did that with kids, she'd have them taken away from her. There is a difference whether she likes it or not. But I digress.
Vickie sent me a text this morning that informed me that Dad has a kidney stone that's being removed late this afternoon. Once that's done, they'll be home, to their old house. I didn't respond to the second text, the one in which Vickie told me where they'd be. I'm sure that Dad will be in no shape to travel, even the 20 minute drive to my house. I would love to bring the kids over to see them instead, but if Jen isn't willing to put her dogs up for a full-family gathering like Christmas, I'm sure asking for an impromptu visit is out of the question.
The sad thing is that the tools and the grill, those are just things. I'll never fight about things. I didn't have them before, so I won't fight about having them now. If it means so much to her to keep them, then let her have 'em. It's silly and childish, but if it makes her feel more loved or favored or whatever, then she can have 'em. But Dad and Vickie always told me, no matter what I did or needed, I'd always be welcome in their house.
Now, that's not true either.
My parents will be home for just a couple of weeks. I wonder if we'll see them for more than an hour while they're here. I'm beginning to think not. And that's not the way it should be.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
The End of My Rope
Thanksgiving is upon us once again and while the start of the holiday season is often times a joyous occasion for many, it has become a time that only causes stress, disappointment, and anger for me. Don't misunderstand, everything in my house is always great. I wouldn't say I enjoy the loading up of the kids to rush from one house to the next, hoping while we are wherever we are that they'll behave well enough to avoid a scene, but I understand it as a necessary evil and the time spent among family is enriching nonetheless.
No, the issues that I have during holiday time aren't related to my wife or my kids, not to my in-law or their families either. The problems arise when dealing with, talking about, or even thinking of my mother and her side of the family.
I don't want to get into the whole back story here; suffice to say that my parents were divorced when I was very young and though my dad was just down the road (literally), my mom raised three kids basically by herself. For much of that time she struggled to find work as a teacher, but eventually landed a full-time job. We never had much money, but we had enough. She did a wonderful job of instilling morals and all the other things a mother should teach her kids. I am forever grateful that she was as hard on me as she was; I deserved every spanking I got.
To say that my mother and I had a close relationship wouldn't be accurate, I don't think. I had thought that we did, but when it came time for me to move out and go off to college, it became evident that I was wrong. In the 10 years that I lived in Bowling Green, which is situated an hour north on I-75, my older sister lived in Florida and then in North Carolina. During that time, my mom must have traveled to see Courtney at least twice a year every year, often times more. She came up to see me in BG exactly once. In 10 years.
I eventually moved back to Lima, just a handful of blocks away from her in fact. Things didn't change much. I'd see her when I went to her house or at my Aunt's place every now and again, but that was it. When I got married and started my own family, we grew even further apart.
A couple of years ago, it became evident how little my kids would see their paternal grandmother. My younger sister has two kids of her own and she frequently leaves them with Mom. My kids, however, have never been there together without my wife and I. She comes to birthdays and we were expected at holidays, but apart from those handful of times each year, we neither see nor hear from her. I have tried several times to arrange time and days for us to visit her, but no matter how much notice we give, it rarely happens. In fact, I think the exact number is once. Eventually, I gave up trying.
Last year, I drove to Lima on Thanksgiving day, with every intention on going to my family's gathering. Instead, I chose to go shopping and return home. My mom called me at one point, asking where I was. I told her I wasn't coming. I saw no reason to do so. If she can't make an effort to see the kids during the year at all, why should I bring them to her, begging her to at least get to know them?
So, of course, as it's that time of year again, she sent me a text the other day asking if we would come to Thanksgiving. But my wife has to work and the two older kids have to be with their bio-dad during the day, so I declined. It was not an easy decision at all. I suggested to her that we could come to her house during the week leading up to Thursday, but as a teacher, she had conferences and wouldn't be home. Knowing bio-dad would be in the picture again on the weekend, Valerie suggested we could visit her on Friday evening instead. I told my mom we wouldn't need fed and that we could come by around 6:30 pm that night.
She responded that she would be busy shopping and then putting up her tree. She asked again if I would just come on Thursday and then asked if I was coming to Christmas. My response: "No. Just forget it." Clearly, she can't be bothered to make any kind of time, so why should I?
The sad fact is that when Valerie and I were discussing things the other day, Sebastian overheard us. He couldn't contain his excitement to go to Grandma Judy's house. More sad is that Amity, who is almost 2, has seen my mother less than three times in her life (excluding birthday parties when there are dozens of other people there). Leyton, I'm certain, couldn't pick his grandma out of a lineup.
I have a wife and four kids, two of which also have to make time for their bio-dad. She (my mother) has only herself. She doesn't work weekends or evenings. But her life is somehow too busy to include seeing four of her six grandchildren even once a month. That's really all I have ever asked of her. She always thinks it's a great idea, but the idea never ever comes to fruition. Instead, she's apparently comfortable seeing my kids only on their respective birthdays. I really see no point in continuing to try. I'm no longer going to beg her. I'm no longer going to present my kids to her as if she's a queen. I'm far too busy and my efforts only lead to disappointment.
The last time she saw the kids was on Leyton's birthday (in October), when she came and was at the house for about a half hour. Before that it was at Sebastian's party in July. We live 15 miles from her house and we are more than willing to come to her, but she can't be bothered.
Obviously, shopping and Christmas tree assembly are vastly more important than seeing her grandkids. I just don't know what else I can do at this point.
I want to be clear here, just in case she reads this, that every single time her name comes up, I feel only sadness. She's my mother. I miss her. I want her to be a part of my life and my children's lives. But I cannot make her want to be a part of our lives. She has always come to the birthday parties dutifully, but I know she does it only because she's supposed to. How do I know that? Because unless it's a birthday, we won't see her. She operates toward us as if she lives 3000 miles away. My life is full and complete and busy and satisfying. I want her to add to it, but every time I even think of her, I am no longer happy or satisfied; only sad and disappointed.
Unless something changes dramatically (and by that I mean that she contacts me and sets a time and actually comes through on seeing the kids), I won't be going to Christmas, either. Beyond that, however, I no longer have any plans to keep her informed of what's happening with them. I no longer plan to contact her regarding birthdays at all. When my wife gives birth to our fifth child in March, I have no plans to alert my mother. I'm sure it would just be a bother for her to come to the hospital anyway.
If there's one thing she's made perfectly clear to me and my family over the past few years, it's that she can't be bothered to make any kind of significant time for us.
I miss you, Mom. I can only hope you realize someday soon that you are missing out on getting to know some incredibly great kids.
No, the issues that I have during holiday time aren't related to my wife or my kids, not to my in-law or their families either. The problems arise when dealing with, talking about, or even thinking of my mother and her side of the family.
I don't want to get into the whole back story here; suffice to say that my parents were divorced when I was very young and though my dad was just down the road (literally), my mom raised three kids basically by herself. For much of that time she struggled to find work as a teacher, but eventually landed a full-time job. We never had much money, but we had enough. She did a wonderful job of instilling morals and all the other things a mother should teach her kids. I am forever grateful that she was as hard on me as she was; I deserved every spanking I got.
To say that my mother and I had a close relationship wouldn't be accurate, I don't think. I had thought that we did, but when it came time for me to move out and go off to college, it became evident that I was wrong. In the 10 years that I lived in Bowling Green, which is situated an hour north on I-75, my older sister lived in Florida and then in North Carolina. During that time, my mom must have traveled to see Courtney at least twice a year every year, often times more. She came up to see me in BG exactly once. In 10 years.
I eventually moved back to Lima, just a handful of blocks away from her in fact. Things didn't change much. I'd see her when I went to her house or at my Aunt's place every now and again, but that was it. When I got married and started my own family, we grew even further apart.
A couple of years ago, it became evident how little my kids would see their paternal grandmother. My younger sister has two kids of her own and she frequently leaves them with Mom. My kids, however, have never been there together without my wife and I. She comes to birthdays and we were expected at holidays, but apart from those handful of times each year, we neither see nor hear from her. I have tried several times to arrange time and days for us to visit her, but no matter how much notice we give, it rarely happens. In fact, I think the exact number is once. Eventually, I gave up trying.
Last year, I drove to Lima on Thanksgiving day, with every intention on going to my family's gathering. Instead, I chose to go shopping and return home. My mom called me at one point, asking where I was. I told her I wasn't coming. I saw no reason to do so. If she can't make an effort to see the kids during the year at all, why should I bring them to her, begging her to at least get to know them?
So, of course, as it's that time of year again, she sent me a text the other day asking if we would come to Thanksgiving. But my wife has to work and the two older kids have to be with their bio-dad during the day, so I declined. It was not an easy decision at all. I suggested to her that we could come to her house during the week leading up to Thursday, but as a teacher, she had conferences and wouldn't be home. Knowing bio-dad would be in the picture again on the weekend, Valerie suggested we could visit her on Friday evening instead. I told my mom we wouldn't need fed and that we could come by around 6:30 pm that night.
She responded that she would be busy shopping and then putting up her tree. She asked again if I would just come on Thursday and then asked if I was coming to Christmas. My response: "No. Just forget it." Clearly, she can't be bothered to make any kind of time, so why should I?
The sad fact is that when Valerie and I were discussing things the other day, Sebastian overheard us. He couldn't contain his excitement to go to Grandma Judy's house. More sad is that Amity, who is almost 2, has seen my mother less than three times in her life (excluding birthday parties when there are dozens of other people there). Leyton, I'm certain, couldn't pick his grandma out of a lineup.
I have a wife and four kids, two of which also have to make time for their bio-dad. She (my mother) has only herself. She doesn't work weekends or evenings. But her life is somehow too busy to include seeing four of her six grandchildren even once a month. That's really all I have ever asked of her. She always thinks it's a great idea, but the idea never ever comes to fruition. Instead, she's apparently comfortable seeing my kids only on their respective birthdays. I really see no point in continuing to try. I'm no longer going to beg her. I'm no longer going to present my kids to her as if she's a queen. I'm far too busy and my efforts only lead to disappointment.
The last time she saw the kids was on Leyton's birthday (in October), when she came and was at the house for about a half hour. Before that it was at Sebastian's party in July. We live 15 miles from her house and we are more than willing to come to her, but she can't be bothered.
Obviously, shopping and Christmas tree assembly are vastly more important than seeing her grandkids. I just don't know what else I can do at this point.
I want to be clear here, just in case she reads this, that every single time her name comes up, I feel only sadness. She's my mother. I miss her. I want her to be a part of my life and my children's lives. But I cannot make her want to be a part of our lives. She has always come to the birthday parties dutifully, but I know she does it only because she's supposed to. How do I know that? Because unless it's a birthday, we won't see her. She operates toward us as if she lives 3000 miles away. My life is full and complete and busy and satisfying. I want her to add to it, but every time I even think of her, I am no longer happy or satisfied; only sad and disappointed.
Unless something changes dramatically (and by that I mean that she contacts me and sets a time and actually comes through on seeing the kids), I won't be going to Christmas, either. Beyond that, however, I no longer have any plans to keep her informed of what's happening with them. I no longer plan to contact her regarding birthdays at all. When my wife gives birth to our fifth child in March, I have no plans to alert my mother. I'm sure it would just be a bother for her to come to the hospital anyway.
If there's one thing she's made perfectly clear to me and my family over the past few years, it's that she can't be bothered to make any kind of significant time for us.
I miss you, Mom. I can only hope you realize someday soon that you are missing out on getting to know some incredibly great kids.
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