ALBA MARIE!!

Welcome to the world Alba Marie!!

Born 9/18/2009 at 8:34pm.  Seven pounds, one ounce. 

Baby Watch!!

Okay.

We're on official baby watch now!

Middle spawn is being admitted into the hospital this evening so her doctor can begin the process of trying to soften her cervix. If she doesn't start labor on her own, they will induce in about 12 hours.  We're hoping she's able to deliver on her own; but, she's prepared for a C-section if necessary

I'm going to be a Grammie for the 5th time!  This will be my second granddaughter.  She doesn't have a name yet.  Middle spawn said she'll know her name once she holds her for the first time. 

AND! BONUS!

She'll be a Virgo.  Just like her Grammie.  With Libra tendencies.  So.  She'll be a combination of both mine and her mother's personalities. 

She'll be a drama queen before she hits three! 

I'll keep in touch. 

We're on BABY WATCH!

First Steps..

 First steps.  I remember them like they were yesterday.  Those unsteady feet moving her little body from one location to the next.  From couch to table.  From table to chair.  From chair to my waiting arms.  Big hugs.  Bigger kisses.  Lots of clapping and cheers.  My baby had moved into the next phase of her life. 

The little Spawn has always been the quick one.  Quick to learn.  Quick to love.  Quick to anger.  And quick to forgive.  And she is beautiful.  A beauty not unlike her sisters.  But a beauty she's unaware of.  A beauty that has created problems for her as it gets in the way of how other people see her.  From teachers to police officers to Judges.  No one can believe that she is the criiminal mastermind; and because of that, she has never suffered any penalty for any wrongdoing.  Not that she wasn't prepared for it.  She certainly knew that I was standing by her side.  Just as she knew I wouldn't stand in front of her.  She needed to pay the piper if she wanted to make wrong decisions.  But she never did.  And it was easy to figure out why.  Every other defendant who stood at the defense table would pave the way for her.  Slouching; ill kept, jeans and tee shirts and uncombed hair.  And there she would be.  Petite, well groomed, beautiful, polite and full of remorse.  And we all tease she has the luck of the Irish.  A silver spoon directly up her ass. 

Along with everything, the little Spawn is a walking catastrophy.  If she could get into something, she would find the way.  Bike accidents.  Falling down stairs.  The teasing from her sisters backfired almost immediately and she was ready to take them both on. 

Elementary school was her second love.  Highly intelligent, she would finish her work and offer to help her her teacher with any chore.  Parent teacher conferences were always a joy.  Each year the same, "she's such an easy person to get along with".  "She's always so helpful."  "It's such a pleasure to have her in my class." 

But, as she reached her teen years, it was hard for her to stay focused.  She hadn't learned the discipline necessary for study.  Everything had come so natural for her.  And suddenly, a short attention span made it more difficult for her.  She found it hard to do the homework.  The teachers didn't challenge her or make her reach for anything.  She got bored.  And as her boredom grew, so did her lack of interest in school.  Our arguments went from weekly to daily almost immediately.  "PLEASE! Get ready for school!" 

If everything else in her life was so easy; driving was her downfall.  Ticket after ticket.  Point after point adding up.  Minor accidents and major ones.  Fortunately she was never hurt, and she just couldn't learn.  Setting the kitchen on fire because she lost track of what she was doing.  And always the phone calls that came at work.  "Mom!  The house is on fire!"  "Honey, that's not funny and I'm training someone today, I don't have time for jokes."  "MOM!  I SET THE KITCHEN ON FIRE!!" 

She finished high school and, on her own, made arrangements to attend the local community college.  Our relationship was rocky by then; her stubborn and hot headed ways had caused a huge crevice to develop between us.  And I was genuinely surprised by her committment to getting into classes; meeting with counselors, securing her funding.  We lived directlly across the street from the college.  All I could see was success in her future.  At that point, she thought she wanted to be a nurse.  And I was so proud of her. 

She moved out to live with another student downtown.  I was concerned the moment she told me of her plans.  The independance was too soon for her.  I knew she would party all night and not go to class in the morning.  I worried about the drinking.  And, as the months went on, her grades began to reflect the decisions she was making.  She finally decided to just drop out. 

When a new club opened into town, she was the first one there.  Too young yet to bartend, she became a cocktail waitress.  The club was popular and constantly busy.  With her looks and open personality, she captured the hearts of the patrons and her tips were a reflection of that.  She had money.  LOTS of money.  Her sister joined her about a year later.  And when she turned 21, she, too, became a bartendar. 

But she just couldn't seem to live on her own.  She didn't like being alone in her apartment and would come and stay days on end at mine.  And we still were not getting along as well as I would have wished.  Her final move out of the house was when she moved in with her sister.  And once they decided to each move out on their own, she found a place with another roommate and has been out on her own since. 

She was beginning to tire of the bar scene but the money was so hard to give up.  Another young woman she worked with was planning on opening her own salon and offered her a job as a receptionist.  She took the job knowing her finances would suffer.  Along with other life lessons she's hasn't quite gotten the hang of, budgeting her money is at the top of the list.  I worried this would set her back and she would be forced to move back in with me.  Of course the door is always open for her.  But a healing was beginning between us.  I worried what having her back home would do to that healing. 

Then she told me.  She had decided to become a cosmetologist.  She had expressed interest in the field before; but, after looking into beauty school, it seemed the expense would be more than she could afford.  She told me of the apprentice program.  Her new boss was willing to teach her and help her get started. 

So, there it is.  Her brand new, sparkly Apprentice License fixed to her new station at the salon.  A scheduled trip on Monday to the beauty supply stores for scissors and combs and blow dryers and irons of all kinds.  Curling, straightening, crimping.  A mannequin head.  Books to study and tests to pass. 

She looks different.  Grown up.  Confident.  The young woman she is.  No more silly tee shirts and cut offs.  No more men's sweats 10 sizes too big.  No more chucks in every color and style imaginable. 

She walked into the house today wearing a cute little sundress with ballerina wedges.  Her hair perfect; her makeup subtle.  Excited about the direction her life is taking. 

And I knew, deep in my heart, she would be okay.  It's been a long, hard road getting here; but, here she got.  She can now begin the process of finding herself with each passing day.  Finding her strength.  Knowing her weaknesses.  And embracing the woman between the two. 

She couldn't stay.  Sorry Mom!  Plans for a Saturday!  She just wanted to stop by.  To show me her license.  To show me the woman she's becoming. 

What she didn't see was the tears.  The ones that flow so naturally when you see your child moving into the next phase of their life.  And no matter how old she gets, I am transported in time.  And I will watch in awe as she starts to take her next set of..   

First steps.

Monday Evening - Perfect

I had to text her to let her know I had received the new insurance cards and would she stop by and pick up hers to keep in the car. 

I expected a quick message back letting me know she'd try and stop by.

What I got was the start of a Monday Evening. Perfect.

She let me know she had some money she could give me and would stop by after she got off work.  I had no idea what to expect; it's been months since I've seen her. 

She arrived around 6:30 or so.  She told me she loved how pretty the front yard was getting and how proud she was that I had done all the work myself.  She walked around the house to see if there was anything new added since her last visit and then we went outside to sit on the porch. 

The conversation was natural, flowing, no tension at all.  Like we had just seen each other days ago.  We talked about her apprenticeship and how close she is to getting her license.  The new book she's reading.  Her golfing exploits.  She had a card in her hand.  Pink envelope.  I took it and laid it on the table. 

I told her about my blog.  We talked about the lawsuit and I filled her in on some of the things that were happening in the office.  We talked about my dreams for a new patio pad over the mud patch that the PUPPIESFROMHELL have created in front of the fence. 

I offered her a beer and we just keep talking.  We talked about the middle Spawn's baby on the way, the oldest Spawn's kids.  My heart was singing. 

We came inside and drifted upstairs.  She wanted to see my blog.  I showed her my pages.  She wanted me to read some posts to her. 

I faltered.  I didn't want to read the ones where I have shared my hurt about the distance between us.  She insisted.  She sat on the floor next to me and tears welled in her eyes.  Her hand rested on my knee.  My voice cracked.  I hugged her and said, 'let me read some of the funnier ones'.  She kept saying how proud she was.  That she really loved my writing.   

We went back downstairs and she started rooting through the 'fridge' saying how she worried about how I was eating.  I suggested dinner and we made some calls.  But, this is Hagerstucky.  The streets roll up at 9 o'clock.  Nothing was open.  She called and ordered pizza.

We ventured back out to the porch.  We talked about the party and she said she wanted to come.  I told her how wonderful it would be for her to join us. 

The clock read one a.m. when she said she had to go.  I walked her to her car and she mentioned she was taking her new kitten to the vet on Wednesday and would I go with her.  That way we could hang out all day.  I cleared my mental calendar immediately. 

We hugged.  A long time. 

I had opened the card when we were sitting outside and had hugged her, then, too.  But, after she left, I opened the envelope, gingerly took out the card and read it again. 

"I know sometimes you think I don't care but mom I love you more than you know.  You raised me into who I am today and for that I can never thank you enough! I'm sorry if you feel hurt by me at times, and I hope we can change that.  I love you, mom."

Monday Evening.  Perfect.

It's Just Too Late..

I've been thinking about the Spawn lately.  Trying to reconcile their behavior with mine.  We had completely different lives growing up; neither one better or worse.  The dichotomy between the theory of how they should behave and the practice of how they do, can be measured in miles. 

I grew up with a distant and unloving mother.  My life was centered around futile attempts to garner her approval and love.  Decisions were made not based on my need but on her possible acceptance.  I was one dimensional; lacking the depth of a puddle. 

I knew we would never bond.  I remember calling her; almost daily, knowing the conversation could be taped; same comment, same response.  My confessions would result in her recriminations.  My desires left to hang in the air like helium balloons having spent too many days on the ceiling.  She felt competitive with me.  There was no illness I could have that she either didn't already have and survive; but, could best me by having had and survived far more exotic illnesses.  And, with the complete knowledge of the insanity, I would tell myself the next call will be different. 

It wasn't until I was 30 and pregnant with the littest Spawn that I finally broke the pattern.  My marriage was failing; and, with all my internal radar registering the eventual outcome, I had made the decision to stay.  A decision based soley on my need for her acceptance. 

Mother had been dying since I was 15.  She was diabetic and learned she could manipulate any conversation to center around her and her illness.  Each holiday or celebration was prefaced by the mantra, "you better enjoy this because it might be the last time I'm here with you".  As the years progressed, these occassions were relocated to sterile hospital rooms with nurses and machines to gauge and maintain and watch over her.  And, miraculously enough, these hospital stays never occurred in January, her birthday; or in May, Mother's Day.  I remember telling her in a fit of anger and hurt that she either needed to die or get better because I couldn't continue to live in the vacuum of her neediness. 

In the months prior to my mother's death, Gus had hired a nurse to care for her during the day and one to care for her during the late night hours.  There was a window of time between 5 o'clock and 10 o'clock when no one was there but him.  He had called and asked if I would help out and stay with her while he played basketball or poker or whatever other activity he could think of so as to not be home.  I tried to remind him that I had small children, a husband, that I was pregnant.  The force of his response reminded me that my needs had no merit. 

Sitting with her one evening she said, "You know; I've always loved you".  The words stung in my ears.  I put my book down and looked at her; frail, sickly; and said, "Mom, I've waited 30 years for you to say that; and now it's just too late".  When Gus returned that evening, I told him I couldn't continue to come and help him.  Driving home I was surprised that I didn't feel emancipated from my life long need. 

I got the call from Gus that mother had been taken to the hospital and it looked like 'the end'.  I needed to come quickly so I could say goodbye.  I hung up the phone and looked at the calendar.  It was the Saturday before Thanksgiving.  I had just returned from the grocery store; multiple bags of food for the holiday splayed out on the table waiting to be put away.  The girls were talking at full speed; that constant chatter that siblings develop, sorting through the groceries and calling dibs on which dishes they would be able to help make.  Their laughter permeated the house.  I turned to my husband and told him the dinner was off; mother was in the hospital.  Again. 

The hospital corridor was filled with family and friends talking in the hushed tones of the death watch.  I hadn't seen mother since that night two months earlier.  I could feel the eyes of everyone on me.  The ungrateful child.  I was banished to a bench far away from the room; not allowed to visit until those that loved her were finished.  I walked into her room and over to her bed.  I remember the tight feeling in my chest; the reality that she would die was suffocating.  I reached out to touch her hand to tell her I loved her.  I always had.  I wanted to apologize for my misdeeds and shortcomings.  I wanted one last opportunity to bond with her before she left me forever.  She looked at me and asked me who I was.  Her words threw me off balance.  I stared at her; trying to see her through tears that had spent a lifetime waiting to be shed.  The nurse quietly telling me that this was normal.  That people close to death would vacillate between periods of lucidity.  That I should come back tomorrow and it would be better. 

I never went back. 

I got calls from Gus every night updating me on mother's condition.  Relating tales of visits when mother seemed better and might survive.  I could barely concentrate on the conversations.  My mind reeled with her last words.  Did she really not know who I was; or, was this one last chance for her to remind me that my existence to her was always suspect.  And when she died in early December; I remember the vacant feeling that filled my heart.  I would never know exactly what happened that day. 

Which brings me back to the Spawn.  I loved them.  I hugged them daily; ran their hair through my fingers, listened to their conversations at the dinner table and laughed merrily with them.  They knew they were the center of my life.  Through all my mistakes, they had a happy childhood. 

And yet; now, they have chosen to treat me with the same distant emotions of my childhood; and, I can't reconcile why.  I scrutinize my actions as their mother.  I take responsibility for the things that could have been done better.  And I wonder just how long it will be before I say, "It's just too late". 

Parenthood ... Sucks

So, I'm unemployed, right?  Which means, to most people, I'm probably not making the coin I was when I wasn't unemployed. 

The little Spawn is "unemployed".  Which means, to most people, she has a "job", too.  But, to be fair, even when she was employed, she still didn't make her car payment.  Or insurance payment. 

Now, you're probably thinking; as you do, she'll just have to learn the hard way what it's like in the real world when you don't make your payments as contracted.  And the big, nasty repo man will make a midnight visit and whisk your little car away to "you can't have this back until you make your goddamn payment" land. 

This would be a nice concept; wouldn't it? 

Issues:

1) The car is also in my name

2) If the payment isn't made it will reflect on my credit report

3) Maryland has a ridiculous lack of insurance penalty law

4) The fines would bankrupt me and they would flag my truck and I would have expired tags

Resolution:

1) Make the car and insurance payment.  Period. 

Now, to be honest, I also do it because I want her to like me and be grateful and say nice things about me.  I'd like to see her come over and say something silly like, "Mom, what can I help you with today?"

These are the stupid thoughts you have when you suffer from an insomnia that could kick the shit out of Quaaludes.  Also, the lack of nutritional intake could be impacting my decision making skills. 

She does not do these things.  She doesn't even talk to me.  I'm just "crazy".  (Running theme with the Spawn)  Oh; wait, I did get a "Happy Mother's Day" text from her. 

Before you get all huffy about it; she's not alone.  Her sisters also think I'm "crazy" and don't talk to me.  There's still that cosmic scorecard out there that doesn't have enough checks next to my name.  So, it's okay for them to be this way because I deserve it. 

If I remain unemployed too much longer (read: forever) I soon won't be able to make the payment as I have and I'll stop caring about my credit score and they can just go ahead and repo it.  As long as I pay my insurance, my tags will be current. 

You think parenting a teen (girl) is emotionally trying?  Try parenting adult children (girls) who wear their emotional baggage like a crown.  At least the teen has an excuse.  Hormonal disharmony and all that. 

I need to borrow a few dollars.  I swear, I'll pay it back.

Happy Mother's Day YiaYia

Bitchy Pregnancy..or.. perhaps..just a bitch

I really DO love the Spawn.  I tell myself this daily because I sometimes still interact with them.  They're grown up now and, well, I just don't understand them anymore. 

But, somehow, the fact that I used her name, the one I gave her, opened up another door for her to blast out at me.  And now she's angry.  In her defense, she's really still mad because I voiced an opinion about how she was spending her money and I thought she should save for when the baby is born.  Evidently my tone and choice of words bordered on judgemental.  And there's still some sort of cosmic checklist out there showing I haven't apologized.  So, this isn't really a new, angry.  More like a continuation. 

So, we probably won't talk for awhile. 

I know she loves me.  Of this I have no doubt.  But then, there are times, like, right now for instance. that I'm not sure she does.  The argument is pointless; we both know it.  But she's stubborn (as am I) and that's that. 

Her sister are much the same.  We have stupid arguments followed by deafening silences that allow the weeds to fester; and, as the years go by, more impossible to remove. 

I'm sure one spawn will tell another that I've written this.  I've layed our family laundry out for all to see and I'm sure there's some retribution that will be heaved on me because of it. 

Perhaps I should delete this.  I really just don't know. 

How can you say no to faces like that??

clusterfuck family time

I love my girls.  I truly do.  They are the best damn thing I've ever done and I take all the credit.  But they're old now and I sometimes wonder who the fuck raised them?  Obviously I must have done some serious sinning in a previous life.  Like fucked a rat or something

Kara, the KareBear, the oldest.  She's got a blog where she displays all her technoabilities; her Twitter name is FanEffingTastic.  What's that tell ya?  But she's funny as shit.  Always was.  She's mommy to 4; one, two, three, four, beautiful kids.  There's the Princess and 3 of those other sex.  Love them all but I don't understand the boys.  Like, they're playing, really nice with each other, talking some weird kind of computer, video language and then BAM, they're rolling on the floor, ripping each other's eyes out, and I'm fucking clueless.

Kandis, the Mouse, classic middle child syndrome.  Beautiful, bitchy, and the spit and image of me.  Can I tell you how much she fucking hates that?  Grandbaby number 5 is due to hit the streets 9/11.  Ain't that the shit?  Jesus, please let it be a girl.  The Princess will be hell to live with if she's surrounded by all these boys with no other female competition to put her in her fucking place. 

Kaitlin, the Peeper, the baby of the group.  Like a bomb shell waiting to go off.  Hasn't found her place in the world yet; she's still racking up the numbers and batting her pretty blues.  I spent more time yelling up the stairs, "Just give it to her! Now goddamnit!"  And what did I hear all the fucking time from her sisters?  "You let her get away with everything!"  Fuck yeah, I did.  You wore me out. 

So, now we have a different kind of family time.  Take last Thanksgiving for instance.  The doctor had just put me on Adavan.  He tells me it'll make things easier for me as I battle the wages of my sins.  He was SO fucking right. 

So, for family time, I do all the cooking, bascially because I want to and we do what I want, and because I don't think the girls can cook worth shit.  At least not up to holiday standards yet.  So, it's the girls, me and Kara's roommate.  We're all drinking wine, telling stories, playing cards.  Then Kandis mentions, innocently enough, that's she's brought some toke and may just indulge.  And she looks me point blank in the face and says, "So, are you ever going to smoke with me?"  Now, what would any other loving, concerned mother say to that?  I mean, I haven't smoked but a few times since high school so, I'm thinking, why the fuck not?  But that idea gets lost for a bit and we're still drinking wine, playing Fuzzy Duck and I'm still cooking.  Until the oven caught on fire. 

Listen, I have made the family holiday dinners since Kara was born and I have NEVER fucked one up.  Serious.  Ask anyone.  No dry turkey on Thanksgiving or well done prime rib on Christmas.  The mashies are perfect, the gravy to die for and everyone gets their favorite dish made.  We've got enough food to feed the Lost Boys and it's usually just the 4 of us.  But this stupid aluminum broiler pan has a fucking leak in it and I've got a gas oven.  You figure it out. 

So, we're drinking wine and waiting for oven to cool off so I can clean it and get the turkey back in and, did I mention I had just started taken Adavan?  Now, the Peeper can recall this next part verbatim, but, it went something like me asking when we were gonna fire up the bowl.  And then we sat at the table, drinking more wine, talking, turkey is back in the oven, everything is just waiting and. 

See?  That's it.  Next thing I knew I was waking up on the couch.  Swear to GOD.  They tell me I was talking and then just laid my head down on the table and that was that. 

Turkey - $25

Aluminun pan - $4.50

Family time like this?  Fucking priceless