See this horse? Beauty, isn't she? Well, one just like her pitched my daughter off during a horse riding lesson.
While I saw in an instant how our lives could have changed and had a vision of Christopher Reeve in my head, I sat quietly in the background and allowed her trainer to handle the situation. Erin was shaken up and bumped up, but her trainer handled it very well. Had her shake it off, talked her through it and immediately got her back on the horse. If I were Erin, I'm not sure wild horses could have gotten me back on that animal. But Erin is a tough cookie. I know that underneath the tantrums and mood swings and lashing out, there lives a tough broad. Enormously tougher than her mother or her brother.
I was so proud of her and I told her. She was still shaking a bit, but she walked her horse back to the barn and started to take off the saddle and bridle. As her next lesson was canceled because of the holiday, her teacher told me that if Erin wanted, we could work in a lesson during the week, or just wait the 2 weeks. I figured I would just ask her later. But while untacking her horse, Erin asked when her next lesson was. A part of me feared that she would want to stop riding because of the fall. But when I told her she could wait 2 weeks or we could see if her teacher could squeeze in a lesson another day next week, Erin wanted to ride and not miss a week.
Again, I was so proud of her.
And I was so proud of me. You have no idea how much I wanted to run out into that arena and pick Erin up. But I knew I couldn't. I wouldn't--unless the trainer asked me to come over.
I told Erin later that the worst part is over. She doesn't have to be afraid of falling off the horse ever again. She did it and she was fine...and I told her one of the most important thing about riding a horse is knowing how to fall off.
And my daughter did it like a champ.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Atta Girl!
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Carry On My Wayward Son
Today I began the journey of pushing my son out of the nest. You may recall the horror of the last oh, 2 - 2-1/2 years. Depression, anxiety, anorexia, doctors, hospitalization, vicious mood swings, pot, speeding tickets, possession of cannabis. Sean never really withdrew from me or his friends completely---and maybe that's what kept him alive. There were times I couldn't get a hold of him and I was sure he was dead. A suicide. My dear sweet son. There are times still when I think that if anything happened to my kids, I wouldn't survive it.
But here we are today. Today Sean is on his way to Phoenix to work with 2 friends on a CD of original music, to jam, to play music all night, to enjoy, to work on setting up some band concerts over the summer and have fun. He will be staying with a friend and his mom. I haven't met the mom, but I trust Sean's instincts. Besides...he will be 19 in 5 days. He's got a credit card and a cell phone. He can get home if he needs to.
The plan is for him to stay out there about 2 weeks. As I sit here this morning just after waving goodbye to my young man, I realize that we have never been apart that long in our lives. Sure he was supposed to spend a couple of weeks over the summer with his dad---but THAT never happened. A long weekend yes....2 weeks? No. There was a 10 day trip to Florida with his friends last year, but this seems different somehow.
You may be saying to yourself....Dear God, how dysfunctional! But I think being so close became a double edged sword. Maybe it contributed to his hard time breaking away. But maybe it kept him alive too---all the times I sat up all night talking to him and going to work exhausted were well worth it.
Last Saturday, Sean and I went to lunch and to see the movie "Star Trek". Just him and me. It was a birthday present and a going away present. I think when my son comes back home, it will just be a pit stop on his way forward. The thought makes me cry and laugh at the same time.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Throwing in the Mother Towel
"The Toughest Job You'll Ever Love"
That's what I've heard tell about motherhood. However, it had to have been written by a man. And here's why: NO MAN WOULD WANT THE JOB.
From Morning Sickness to being Sick That They Are Not Home By Morning, motherhood is enough to make you blow your brains out on a daily basis. I ask myself: Why me? What did I do wrong? Why is this happening? Why are my kids making me crazy? Why do they not listen unless I am a screaming, frothing at the mouth lunatic?
I have tried to lead by example. I speak respectfully (90% of the time) to my kids even when angry to the point of putting my head through the wall. I knock before entering their rooms. I never open their mail. So is it kid-nature to be whining, moaning, eye-rolling disrespecting globs of human tissue? Well, is it?
I don't know. Maybe I'm just getting old. Maybe my long fuse got shortened when I received my AARP membership card. I don't know. I do know that I talked back to my parents -- I do remember that quite clearly. I also remember I knew my limits -- and if I went past them, was unceremoniously reminded with a smack on the rear end.
I smacked Erin on the rear yesterday. You'd think I'd taken her to the town square, hog tied her and provided the rotten fruit and vegetables for the townsfolk to pitch at her. HUMILIATION, I'm telling you. HUMILIATION. The pain. The torture. And then....AND THEN....I took away her cell phone. How could I? If she comes home after school today and isn't "found dead in a corner", well, it'll be my lucky day.
OMG.
All I know is that I want to throw in the "mother" towel. I've done it for 19.5 years (including being pregnant). Can't I take a vacation?
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Suburban Misanthopia
Last September, my daughter decided she wanted to be a cheerleader. Well...ok!...although this encompassed an exorbitant amount of my time taking her to practices and driving her to football games that could be 25 miles away or more. But she was excited, the bonding was good for her because of her ADD and the training helped her expend her boundless energy. Me? Yea, I should have been training with them, but I used the time as I sat at the practices and little league football games to read, listen to my iPod or close my eyes behind my sunglasses. She loved it. I cheered her on during her squad's halftime show and then we went home after the game.
Now I am a fairly chatty, personable person. I can have a decent conversation with just about anyone, anywhere, even if alcohol isn't present. Somehow, and I don't know why exactly, I'm having...and have had...trouble bonding with the typical Suburban Mom.
We've already established that I'm a bit "off the wall". As much as I wish I was, I'm just not Suburban Wife and Mom material, even though being a wife and mother is what I truly wanted. Now that I have my own life (as I did in my 20's), the kids are getting older and a bit more self sufficient, I find I have more and more difficulty "blending" in with the neighborhood/cheerleading/soccer moms. This is no reflection on them. It's a reflection on me.
Most of them -- say 95% -- are married, either non-working or working just part time outside the home. There are very few of them in my section of the boat....status post heart attack with panic disorder, a crazy ex-husband, 2 kids, one with ADHD, no other family, a bright son who quit highschool (but will be starting junior college early and taking his GED), working full time and trying desperately to stay ahead of the dirty laundry monster who is perpetually at my heels.
I guess part of the disconnect is that I look at some of these women with envy -- one just got her last child of 3 off to college and she decided to start to look for a job. She landed a great one at a little bookstore, 9-3, 2 days a week. Some are in school, taking a class here and there. Others are at home, comtemplating starting a home-based business. I guess what they have, which I wished I had, is not the time to be home necessarily, but is having a stable, relatively happy marriage. I'll probably never know what that feels like, even though it is something I wanted. I'll never know what it's like to have your husband overjoyed that you are pregnant and taking part in your pregnancy and preparing for the birth of your child. And that makes me sad. Sometimes overwhelmingly sad.
But to combat the blues, I have marched decidedly forward as a single person, determined to get my self confidence back...to make a list of goals that I can achieve on my own.
And this is all good. All totally positive and good.
But I still wish for that which I will never have.....
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Bad Mother Of The Year Award
BAD MOTHER of the year AWARD goes to:
Runners up: Britney Spears, Michael Jackson
Grand prize winner: Lara Angelina Harrison
(applause)
“Thank you all for this wonderful recognition of my talents. And to be in such company as Britney and Michael…well, I’m literally speechless.
“I’d like to say, for the record, that my ex-husband has always believed in my gift of bad mothering. For nearly 12 years, he reminded me constantly of my inability to properly parent the fruits of my womb. And here before you, I proudly acknowledge that nearly the entire planet agrees with him. Thumbs up, WAM!
“It’s taken years of fucking things up to get to this point. It’s taken years off my life, hairs off my head and added layers of rubber tire fat – the kind that gives you diabetes and makes you die. It’s also given me chronic insomnia and a fairly intimate relationship with panic disorder. Sure, it’s sacrifice. But well worth it if you wish to become as bad a mother as I am.
“Of course I’ve heard that my son is wonderful with children. He works at an afterschool day camp for grammar school kids. They call him ‘Mr. Sean’ and follow his 5’10” frame around like he’s Hans Christian Anderson. I also know that my neighbors call him to sit their kids and they love him. Fine – he trustworthy, respectful, helps around the house, is devoted to his music, helps with his sister, goes to the library to read, but for heaven’s sake woman: HE’S DROPPED OUT OF HIGHSCHOOL! I know. Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without my instinct for bad mothering.
“Let’s just, for now, get past the point that he wants to take his GED and start college earlier….let’s focus on the fact that my bad mothering has fostered his irresponsibility toward high school. Ok? After all, isn’t BAD MOTHERING what this is all about?
“I could, of course, continue to list my other accomplishments with my daughter, Erin. At 11, she is growing into a beautiful young girl, and I know will continue to make me proud of my bad mothering. I’m hoping that in the future, I will be standing before you again, accepting the BAD MOTHER AWARD in honor of the job I’ve done with Erin.
“Thank you again…..and good night.
Oh, and by the way, cast your vote tonight – I’m also up for ‘Most Wish-Washy Christian Not Yet Living In Hell’, ‘The Worst Ex-Wife On The Planet Earth’ and ‘The Most Unworthy of Anything Good That Ever Comes to Her’. Thank you again.”
