Me, Me, Me

I have some terrible news. I have some fabulous news. Cry with me, OK? Sing and Dance with me, will you?

Today, I walked away from mother. I sighed, looked up at the ceiling, took a deep breath, looked at Dawn, put my shoes on and walked away. I rode the elevator down to the ground floor, walked across a parking lot, leaned on my van and smoked a forbidden cigarette. The last 20 years swam in my tears and I made a decision.

Me. Me. Me. I'm going to live for me now. I am all done with her cyclone of misery. I choose to live. I choose to spend my energy and love with Dawn, Storm, Faith, William, Ray, Mimi, our close friends - the family that we have built and nurtured despite never being taught how.

I decided to stop being her daughter - subject to her whims, abuse and even the dictations of her DNA that multiplies in my cells. I decided to be my children's mother, and mommy, and protector. I decided that enough is enough.

Laughter - I've missed it. I'm funny - I had almost forgotten. I am happy - who knew?

Even at this moment, when cobwebs rank with her decaying funk are still clinging to me, I have much love and great hope. I can see Dawn's halo again, and I can feel it's glow on my dried skin. My children are singing, not whining. Dancing with me, not tripping me. I adore them.

Please forgive my nauseating cliches. Please forgive my worn out metaphors. Please forgive my decidedly uncreative stabs at prose tonight. You'll give me a break - I know you will. I know you will because you have stuck with me through this game of family Chinese checkers. You have hugged me and dried my tears. You have been my friends.

I'm sure my writing will pick up. Give me a second, will you?

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Gray? Grey? I don't care.

Do you ever have a day when it would just be better if you didn't talk? When everything that
comes out of your mouth is just catty? Or hateful? Or just generally unhelpful? That's me today.

There's a children's book called "My Many Colored Days." It's about moods. It's fabulous. "Gray. Gray Day. I watch, but nothing moves today." That's me today.

William parachuted from the top step, relying on a Target bag for his very life. He had a bandana tied around his head - it was pushing his little ears down. I managed a weak smile.

Ray calls pumpkins "Ump Umps." He has a little bitty one that he's been carrying around. Everywhere. I think it's floating in the tub water right now. I noticed this adorableness, but have no exuberance or soul-warmth from it.



Faith had a level 10 breakdown tonight. These come once in a blue moon but when they do, they are something truly fierce, barometric pressure altering and earth-shaking. She worked herself into such a fit that she was baring her teeth, flailing about and assaulting whoever was closest. I took this as just what I deserved. She was acting just like I feel. I was down enough to mistake her discomfort (putting it lightly) for my karma.

Storm is perfect. Thank God, the wildcard is stable.

I don't wear misery well. It's like my mother's suit - itchy and ill-fitting and boxy and hot.

I can't remember to Ham Sa. I can't remember to eat. I can't remember anything, to tell the truth. My days are foggy. You know how when you have a sinus infection, it feels like you have cotton balls stuffed between your ears? I have that confusion without the pain.

Save me, Halloween! Shake me out of this funk. Please.

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Floodgates, finally

Remember how I said I haven't cried yet? Now I have. McDonald's is what sent me over the edge. Pathetic, I know.

I realized at about 10:30 that I forgot to make Storm a lunch. The little boys and I were out running errands so I zipped into the McDonald's drive-thru. I ordered $12.98 worth of heart-attack-in-a-bag. I pulled around to the first window and gave the lady my credit card. Declined. "Could you try it again, please?" Declined. Fuck.

You see, I never use my credit card. The only reason we have it is to pay off the solar panels. For the last several days, I've had to run it a few times for odds and ends for my mother's move. And I had to do one big purchase on it because her Target card was declined when she sent me there yesterday.

So I hung my head, apologized and got out of line. Then I remembered that I had her other credit card because I had to leave one on file at the "Senior Community." I got back in line, ordered the same $12.98 worth of artery clogging, and pulled around yet again to the first window. The lady looked at me funny and I said, "Different credit card." She smiled and then said, "Declined." I said, "What?" She said, "Declined." That is when I lost it. Hyperventilating sobbing. In the McDonald's drive-thru. With my two baby boys in the back seat. I let go one blood-curdling scream and made my way out of the line. Again.

Total and Complete Humiliation. I have known thee.

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Horrible

She's 57. She's only 57.
"I'm 57, Rebecca! I still have a life to lead. I'm only 57!"

This is horrible. She is so angry with me. She has resorted to lying and begging and yelling. What am I to do but protect her body from her mind in the best way I know how to? This is horrible.

Forgive me for not returning phone calls. Forgive me for not blogging. Please. I have my thick soul shell up. I can't cry yet, so I can't talk to you Sweet People who love me so, yet. Know that I love you and am grateful for your attention. Don't give up on me.

A Place for Mom

"Senior Community" shopping. For a 57 year-old snob. I'm 31. Here's the rub.

On Tuesday the 13th, I called her at her house. I couldn't understand much of what she was saying. She wasn't completing sentences. She was talking about people that I don't know. She was abrasive and impatient when I questioned her about her state of mind. Then the fire alarm started. She was totally confused, babbling about the burglar alarm and someone named Greg. She hung up on me. Pensacola 911 connected me with her local Police Department. While I was on the phone with them, her fire monitoring system called and requested that units be sent to her house immediately.

She was taken by ambulance to the ER for "general disorientation." She was admitted as procedure dictates for observation following smoke inhalation. She is still there because she's nuts.

My mother has been a headcase for as long as I've been alive. No, I wasn't a trying baby. I'm sure her troubles started long ago; I can only bear witness though, for the last couple of decades. When I say "headcase" I mean that she has psychological and neurological issues with medical records so vast that they could only be transported by a fleet of 18-wheelers, an aircraft carrier or all the pack animals in the world.

She has hydrocephalus (too much fluid on her brain), clinical depression with an extensive history of suicide attempts, intense and unresolved migraine headaches, a degenerative bone condition, morbid obesity, the symptoms of early onset Alzheimer's including memory and balance problems. (For the record, she couldn't remember a series of 3 words for more than 3 minutes but she did know the names of The Real Housewives of New Jersey.) She doesn't eat properly, sleep properly, exercise at all, or treat people with anything resembling respect, kindness or compassion. Did I mention that she herself is a Doctor? As if all of the above isn't enough, she's fucking brilliant.

So tell me, if you can, how in the hell am I going to get her into an assisted living facility that usually only takes people 62 years and older in near perfect health? And if I manage that charade, how am I going to afford to keep her in there when she (wonder of all wonders) lives for another 30 years? And how is she not going to get herself kicked out for being a total bitch (Just this week she asked a poor tech trying to start an IV if he was having an attitude with her because she's a doctor.)

And what sin or as is more probable, sins have I committed to deserve this? I know, I know - This isn't about me. It's about finding a safe place for a smart, savvy and somewhat capable person to thrive.

I feel like my life once again is at the mercy of her every whim. As an only child, what else am I to do but come running most every time she calls? There's NO ONE ELSE - so please, please don't suggest that I call her bluff for attention, or ostracize her for bad behavior. I've tried everything - remember this has been going on my entire life. She is truly ill and truly needs serious help. But that has been true for a very long time.

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Things You Can Accomplish While Stuck in a Bed for 3 Days and I'm Not Done Yet!

1. You can overhaul the way your child's classroom orders books.

2. You can read at least 1000 pages of well, anything. I read some adult fiction (not mature fiction, Dawg), some non-fiction on the Bronx Zoo, some young adult fiction b/c I ran out of adult fiction, and some old fliers from the school that I found on the floor.

3. You can register to take the Mensa test. You can take as many practice tests as your virus-infected brain can stand.

4. You can shop and shop and shop until you know exactly what to convince your kids to want for Christmas. Then you can write to interested parties with links to all of the items.

5. You can perfect your dream queue on Netflix.

Ready for my favorite?

6. You can be ordained by the Universal Life Church and be completely legal to officiate weddings, funerals and baptisms.

True story - I can absolve you of sin and perform exorcisms, too! Who's first?

What could I possibly get into tomorrow?

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I Can't Remember the Last Time I Watched 3 Movies in One Day, None of Which Featured a Talking Animal

Movie Review of the Day #1:
Notes on a Scandal - Lesbian/Geriatric/Pediophilia Fatal Attraction. If none of that disgusts you, this may be just the flick for you. Cate Blanchett and Judi Dench - I would probably enjoy watching them watch grass grow, so for me it was a win-win. Very dramatic, very creepy. If you're wondering whether to shake off someone in your life that may be a stalker, this one will convince you that yes, IT IS TIME.

Movie Review of the Day #2:
Who is Cletis Tout? - Movie within a Movie. Crime Caper. HILARIOUS! Stars my childhood hearthrob Christian Slater and Mrs. Ellen Degeneres, Portia de Rossi. (Jude! She fires a gun.) Tim Allen plays a hitman - it's funny already, right?

This is the opening dialogue between 2 Mafia Thugs.

Thug 1 - Oh... what's the name of that Burt Reynolds picture with the banjo?

Thug 2 - Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah that one with that retarded kid. He was good, that guy.

Thug 1 - Yeah, he was good. "Deliverance." Coupla nights ago, me and Denise we popped that into the DVD. We're about an hour into this thing and I start thinking to myself "this story ain't very realistic." You're a lonely mountain man. They're destroying your home. They've taken your job. There is no place to set your still. You are angry- they've destroyed everything that validates your manhood. You're confused; your sexuality is in question. You decide you're going to hit for the other side. You want yourself some man meat- I can understand that- but wouldn't you wait for Burt Reynolds to come downriver?

Movie Review of the Day #3:
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind - Brilliant! If I had been on some Nyquil or maybe something a little less legal, it would have been really amazing. Jim Carrey who I normally despise didn't annoy me at all and the always lovely Kate Winslett was all but insane and still fabulous and lovely and all things good. I like that she keeps her weight up. She's a real person.

It would be near impossible to give you a synopsis. Suffice it to say that it is about what happens when you try to forget the most important person in your life. It has the flashback/out-of-chronological-order thing of Pulp Fiction. Just go with it, don't try to figure it out. The end wraps up nicely.

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View from a Jail Cell

Granted, it's a very comfortable jail cell. (When I was a kid in Missisippi, "jail" and "cell" rhymed. They both had 2 syllables.) And when I went for my shower I didn't drop the soap. Good thing since I can't lean over to pick it up. Dawn says my quarantine is even worse than jail because even convicts get to go outside.

So far, my favorite thing about being sequestered is watching Dawn chase me around with the Lysol spray. When I have to leave my cell to go potty, which is pretty often unfortunately, she comes with me and takes mental notes on everything that I touch. When I'm done, she hoses everything down. Then she follows me back to the cell and hoses the doorknob and the doorframe and the lightswitch. When she misses a bathroom break, it's fun to tell her that I licked something and I'm not telling what it is.

While I took my aforementioned shower today, she changed the sheets in my cell. She put on my favorite quilt. It's my favorite mostly because my mother hates it. I got it as a wedding gift and used it in the guest room of our first house. I guess the quality is just really poor or maybe my laundry skills were not quite up to par but the damn thing quickly became ratty and torn. That didn't bother me in the least. To me it looked more quiltish and less Clearance-Bin-at-the-JCPenney which I knew it to be. My mother, though, hated it. Hates it still. I make it a point to put it on her bed whenever she comes. It's soft and cozy and good for being sick in.

She also changed to more comforting pillow cases. Dammit, Rocket, Amy and Laura Lee! There's no need to interrupt, but yes that is the $80 pillow cleverly disguised as a Raggedy Ann heirloom.

I changed into my favorite jams. Obnoxious purple pants and . . .

Except when her greeenst thing is coming out of her . . . well, you know.

If I look up, which kind of hurts since I've got what I think is a 2 by 4 for a spine, I can see Africa.



If I look left, I can see my window and the vines that we let take over our house and the rain chain. See, Ms. Moon?!

If I look to the right, I see this concoction of 7Up and Gatorade that Dawn keeps lovingly bringing to me. Think that color might have anything to do with the greenness I mentioned above?

And here's my forward view. That's a stack of movies I'm to conquer today. Yesterday I read every book in our house that I hadn't read or tried to read before. That came to about 624 pages. No more reading today. Ironically, though, those other stacks are the Scholastic Book Orders for the school. No rest for the weary, I tell ya.

I've been thinking about doorbells today. I'll save it for later, though.

Thanks for your well wishes, friends. If anybody has a kit for a full blood panel just laying around, let us know!




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Debilitated, Damn it

I have hurt my back. I'm not sure how badly yet, we'll see. When we got home from picking up the kids from school, Dawn parked on the street and hopped out and ran into the house because she had to poop. The 3 little kids and I were left to carry in a few odds and ends. I'm in charge of the Scholastic Book Orders for Ray's classroom which involves putting together fliers which are bundled in big blocks. While simultaneously trying to keep the kids out of the street and gather the bundles and the small bag of groceries, I heard and felt something pop. Pain, immediately. I sort of collapsed onto the car seat and told Faith and William to go and get Dawn right now.

Several minutes of pretty severe pain later and still no Dawn, I managed to find one of the cell phones on the floor of the car. I called the house. She was laughing when she answered, "Yes?" She came running. She carried me into the house which is no fall feat considering that our driveway has a pretty substantial slope and there are several steps up to the porch and then several steps down into the den. She said she never saw Faith, and William came in singing, "It's a Small World." Thank God for Cell Phones.

So now I'm confined to the bed. Dawn is very sweet to me. She's got me set up with the laptop and has even gotten it rigged up so it's not burning the skin off of my legs. She changes out my ice packs regularly. And when I threaten to get up and help with the nighttime routine, she reminds me that she has to go to work tomorrow and that I HAVE to rest and get better or the children will burn the place down in the morning and I'll have a hard time getting myself out a window to escape. sigh.

I HATE being immobile and useless.

She's been giving me regular updates on the kids, the hysterical kids. She said William left his shoes right in the middle of the kitchen floor. When she asked him to pick them up, he said, "OK, as soon as you give me some cash." What the hell?

Ray comes in to check on me and put his little chicken head on me. A few minutes ago, he came in with chocolate in the corners of his mouth. I asked him if he had cookies for dessert. He said, "Yep. All done. My mouf" and then opened up to show me the Oreos ground into his precious teeth. Lord, how I love this baby.

I can hear the kids running up and down the hallway. Sometimes I can figure out the gists of their games. Sometimes I just catch a few words, "Charge!" and "You're under arrest!" Lord, how I love these kids.

It's strange to experience my life from behind a door.


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Viral Meningitis

Has anyone ever had this? What did it feel like? Am I dying?

Black Death

I'm sick. Really sick. It feels like my spine is brittle and looks like my insides are mass exodusing my body. I'll let you figure that lovely image out.

The weird thing is that I'm so hungry. Last night Dawn brought me some crackers and a banana. I scarfed that down and demanded Lo Mein. She rolled her beautiful green peepers and brought me the leftovers. I ate that and wanted to die.

The timing is horrible. We have our biggest festival of the year this weekend and we need to be banging some new stuff out. Dawn got called in to work all week and now I'm laid up. So no progress is being made on junk chiming or laundry or dishes.

Oh, and there's always the 4 monkeys to take care of. I gotta go take a nap.

Amazing Faith

My five-year old Faith is the best sick kid in the world. She insists on helping clean up any “grossness,” never cries or whines and is a champ about taking medicine. So if someone had asked me which kid I wanted to get sick on the way home from a 1000 mile trip to help my partner’s ex-husband’s family move (I’m not even kidding. It’s a blog for another day.), I would have said, “Faith” without skipping a beat. But no one asked me that. If someone had I would have been better prepared and I wouldn’t have promised the crew a stop at the Georgia Aquarium.

When Faith screamed from the back seat of the van that she had to throw up, our family jumped into action. Dawn got us to the shoulder of the road and jumped out while Storm unbuckled Faith while William cleared a path for her to walk through while Ray picked up his feet so she could get past. I opened the door for her and found the paper towels. She puked up dinner and breakfast. Her twin, William hung out the door and cheered her on, “You’re doing great Faithy. Good girl. You’re OK, Faith. I’m right here.” The boys switched seats so she could sit by the door. She very matter-of-factly told us when she was done, wiped her mouth and asked if we were still going to the aquarium.

Back on the road with less than 50 miles to Atlanta, Faith threw up again, this time in a Tupperware. I turned around in my seat, held the bowl for her and wiped her face. This time she smiled, assured us that was the end of it and reminded us that she was totally fine to go to the aquarium. The moment of truth came and Dawn took the Aquarium exit. I dumped out a bag and repacked it with paper towels, extra clothes and a contraband sippy cup of Gatorade. While everyone found their shoes, Dawn and I worked out a game plan.

As soon as we got there, Dawn took the boys to the nearest round of exhibits, and Faith and I scoped out a snuggly place in front of the massive glass wall housing the whale sharks. I could write and cry and sing about the whale sharks for days, but this story is about Faith. She dry-heaved in paper towels while I rubbed her hair and counted out the names of the fish that I knew and made up funny ones for the ones I didn’t. The rays cooperated by flying in unison in time to the music. Dawn and the boys looped through, gave us the stroller and pointed us to the next still and quiet place. We moved to the Coral Reef exhibit and watched Nemo and Dorie play in the surf. Dawn looped back through, told us the next spot and so on.

We were parked in front of the Belugas when Faith, my hero said, “I want to be all done now.” She made it just over an hour and through 4 throw-ups. Storm, William and Ray easily rounded up and did a world-record spree through the gift shop. On the hike back to the van, Dawn said, “I had a great time. Is that weird?” I looked at Storm and William holding hands, Ray perched on Dawn’s shoulders and playing with her hair and then Faith sleepily rubbing the Mommy and Baby Beluga Whales that she had rightfully earned and said, “No, it’s just right.”

So score one for the family with 2 Mommies who orchestrated the quickest tour on record through the biggest aquarium in the world, 1 very brave little girl who now feels much better and 3 boys who loved their sister enough to skip the touch pool.