All Grown Up

I remember the day she was born like it was yesterday. I had a follow up appointment that got me out of work early that afternoon and was just walking in the door as my mother called. I could barely understand her but I did understand that my sister was in labor and I needed to get to the hospital. I had one phone call to make before I left, to our father, and that phone call took so long that I was late for her birth.

She was only minutes old when I first saw and held her. She was the most amazing little creature I had ever seen and I promised her that I would always watch over her and make sure that nothing ever happened to her.

When she went for her physical for kindergarten, an intern found a heart murmur. It meant open heart surgery to close a hole in her heart that was the size of a half dollar. I think it was the most terrifying thing I have ever had to deal with. When I saw her in the recovery room after her surgery, it was only a matter of minutes before I had to excuse myself so she wouldn't see me cry.

She's all grown up now. She turned sixteen in April. SIXTEEN! I'm so old! And in May, I got to photograph her on her way to the prom. Prom. As in she is old enough to date and go to formal dances and drive.

Other than taking photographs of Sage, I think taking her photos in her prom gown have been one of the most rewarding times I have held my camera. She was absolutely stunning and I was so proud to call her my niece.

And she's back ...

When we first took custody of her, she was a troubled five year old that was desperate for attention and would do whatever it took to get it. She is his daughter. It took almost a year to get her to realize that her bad behavior would not get her the attention that she desired. It was a year of many, many time-outs and I think my first grey hair. It was a year full of crying fits, mostly on her part, that led to the realization that good behavior was going to get her the attention desired and that the bad behaviors would only get her a time-out on the stairs. I don't know why it ended up being the stairs that worked. My guess is that it was because it was so close the rest of the family, but still removed from us. The ability to hear us, but not see us. It eventually worked and she was (is) the most precious little girl.

Two and half years later, her father was sent to prison and three and half months later her absent mother appeared to tell me that I had no rights, she wasn't my child, she was taking her from me. It wreaked total havoc on her, myself and her siblings. Her mother took her to her grandparents house where she was to live with her. She stuck around for a couple of months and allowed me to get her on the weekends.

Once her mother started to disappear for weeks at a time, the behavior started to worsen again. When her mother would come home, she would literally beg me to tell her how to discipline her own child. I had to laugh, and secretly cry. She had no idea what she was doing to her own child, and honestly did not care. She is a selfish woman. She has four children, that live in three different homes, none of them with her. I asked several times for her to return her to me but she is immature and uses her as a pawn.

A year ago, she moved to another state and occasionally came to visit her children in their various locations. Even though she has no desire to raise any of her children herself, she is also high on the power she holds, among other things, over where her children reside. The behavior worsened over the last year and has come full circle. Her grandparents were at their wits end and were insisting that they were forcing her mother to take her when she got out of school. That was not an option.

Memorial Day weekend her father went to pick her up for the weekend and informed her grandparents that she would not be returning. Her mother had not been seen or heard from in over two months. There had been sightings of her in the area, she just felt no need to see or care for her children.

My heart breaks for her while she frustrates me to no end. She has become sneaky and steals. She likes to do things to her sister and then quickly apologizes and says "it was an accident." I know she needs a firm, but loving person to steer her right but this time around I cannot focus solely on healing her. I cannot allow her to pick at and hurt her little sister in her bid for attention. So the battles have become more frequent and more exhausting. I often feel as if I am fighting a battle I cannot win. I know it is a fight worth fighting but I don't know for how long I can fight the good fight without completely losing my mind.

She went to visit her grandparents on Sunday. She was returned home at 8:30pm and had not been fed since breakfast. Her father asked if she had seen her mother and she said no. He asked if her mother knew she was gone, and again the answer was the expected no. What was not expected was the statement that followed ... "she doesn't care about me." She is nine years old and it dawned on her, at that instant, that her mother truly doesn't care where she is or how she is being cared for. I had to make a hasty retreat so she wouldn't see me crying for her, see my heart breaking. Yet, twenty minutes later she was getting a time-out for knocking her little sister down. I have become a yo-yo. I go from caring and nurturing to heal her emotional scars and ten seconds later, I'm the evil step-mother from hell and she wants to go home to the grandparents that don't want her.

Please tell me that it won't be another year of this ... if so, I may have to start hitting the bottle.

The Boy is Graduating

It's been a long, long road this year but he did it. At 7:00PM this evening, he will walk on stage to receive his diploma.



I don't write about the boys much because they are teens and I don't want to embarrass them. But I can't help it today. I'm proud. It's been a rough couple of years and he only needed one class to graduate. This was his third time taking the class and it was a close call. He had absolutely no interest in Environmental Science and it seemed that no matter how many times he took it, he was just not going to pass. He did this time, when the pressure was on, and that is what counts.

I'm concerned about whether he is ready for the big world of being an adult and having responsibility. As much as I have tried to instill a sense of being responsible into he and his brother, there are outside influences that undermine many of the lessons I try to teach them and I fear they have left him completely unprepared for what is in store for him.

Tonight is his time to shine and tomorrow he leaves for his senior trip. Upon his return, he will be entering the workforce since he has chosen not to go to college or technical school. I hope he is ready for what awaits him.

What Am I Doing Wrong?

I know that the "three's" are considered the new "two's," but for some reason I can't help but think I'm doing it all wrong. It seems that my days are filled with not being able to please my child one iota.

Sage has an ginormous streak of stubborn mixed with a plethora of will and she does not seem to grasp the concept that she cannot have her way all of the time. Every little thing turns into a Oscar winning performance with her, in the category of collosal meltdowns and tantrums. She blatantly ignores requests for her to do things and defies demands after she has worn my patience thinner than I ever thought possible. If she is asked to pick up her toys, she pulls more out and makes a larger mess or runs in the other direction. When she is told it is bathtime, she promptly tells me that she doesn't feel like it and then screams bloody murder all the way up the stairs. She has started making things up to get out of bedtime, with her favorite being "I have to go potty."

Her teachers at daycare love her. They tell me how well behaved she is and that she always listens and does what is requested of her. It's like she is a different child the minute she enters the building. Upon exiting, let the games begin. I just don't get it. I don't give in to her demands, but not doing so leads to screams and growls (yes ... growls) and complete pandimonium. She will make herself physically ill with her theatrics and will go on for hours if she does not get what she wants.

People keep telling me she will grow out of it, but I'm not so sure. I've wondered to myself recently what the youngest age of a child ever sent to military school is! I can't imagine her ever being a follower and know that she will always be strong and independent, but it's got to give somewhere. She teeters from being sweet and loving to being a little tyrant as soon as she doesn't get her way. The past comparisons to dictators is no joke. She could break the best (meaning worst) of them any day.

I'm at a loss on how to discipline her to get her over the top reactions to cease. Timeouts do not work. They only fuel her rage at not getting what she wants to begin with and end with her a desperate, clingy mess that is sobbing in my lap. Taking things from her doesn't work because she honestly just does not care! I'm working on a board to hang up for a reward system for good behavior and am hanging by the thinnest of threads of hope that this. will. work. If it doesn't, I think I'm just going to the doctor and asking to be committed to the closest psychiatric facility because I'm doing to lose my damned mind.

Dreams

Sage has been waking up in the middle of dreams recently. The first few moments that she is awake, she is still walking in dreamland and it usually results in side splitting laughter.

Saturday morning, her father woke her up. She sat straight up in bed.

Sage: "Do NOT throw snowballs at the monkey."
Daddy: "Sage, baby, I think you are dreaming."
Me: snicker, snicker
Sage: turns with wide eyes, pointing at the window "There are MONKEYS in the yard."
Me: "Do they look like Boots or Curious George?"
Daddy: "There aren't any monkeys, you are dreaming."
Sage: pointing at her Daddy "Don't YOU chase those monkeys."

I completely lost all composure and he was speechless.

Ten seconds later ...

Sage: "Mommy, can I watch Mickey Mouse?"

I think she's a keeper.

Twitter me this, Twitter me that

I know, I broke up with Twitter months ago. It didn't last long. Only long enough for me to learn a little more about it and realize that we could compromise and have a relationship that was give and take; not all take.

Then Twitter went all hell-fire crazy with the whole Ashton Kutcher/CNN countdown to 1,000,000. I got drawn into it because of the charity aspect. I wanted to see what would happen. And I paid close attention to people going back and forth about how stupid it was, how big Ashton's ego is, how stupid it was for CNN to get involved in such a silly thing ... yadda, yadda, yadda. In the end, Malaria No More benefited and the lives of children were saved.

And people still had something to complain about. They were lives of children in another country that were saved, not lives here. PEOPLE! They are children. Does it matter where they are? Do they deserve less of a chance at life than children elsewhere?

Since the race to 1,000,000 is over, I have turned my attention to the fact that it reminds me a lot of high school. There are cliques everywhere. It's cool to follow certain people and if you don't ... well, you are nobody. It's not cool to follow certain people and if you do ... well, you are nobody and you are a fool. OH. MY. GOD. Can't we all just get along?

I mostly "follow" bloggers who I tend to read on a daily basis. I have a couple of friends that are on there as well. I "follow" Soliel Moonfrye. Yes, Punky freakin' Brewster. Because she is pretty damn cool and I found her on Twitter through her store, The Little Seed. I would totally shop at her store if I, 1) lived in LA and 2) made enough money to shop at her store!

So, in the eyes of many, I'm lame as shit because I'm following a celebrity. Because we all know that celebritites aren't people, right? Can I get an amen? They have nothing important to say and if you follow a celebrity you are a loser. That seems to be the general consensus of some and I find that completely ludicrous. Seriously? A celebrity couldn't possibly be planted in reality enough to have something to say that anyone who is not a celebrity could relate to!

I call bullshit. It seems to me that the few celebrity streams I have glanced at are actually interacting with the people that follow them. Maybe not everyone that is following, but honestly, how do you interact personally with 200,000 people? 1,000,000 people? It's impossible.

I think someone needs to come up with a Twitter manual. All of the Twitter elite should get together with their little # hashmarks that say secret club or something and write a damn manual. That way we can all follow the same rules and be just alike and all be one big happy family. Or Communist? Same thing, right?

Conversation with a Co-Worker

Me to shipping supervisor: Such and such client wants us to ship this product to Ghana.

Her: Where's that?

Me: It's on the African continent. The product cost $2,000.00 to produce and the freight is $2,500.00.

Her: Where? How much?

Me: I think it might be cheaper to call their neighbors up north in Europe.

Her: Yeah, at least order it from the same continent.

Me: Oh, are those jelly beans. May I have some?

That's my typical day folks! And they wonder I get so frustrated and hide in my cubicle ...

She's growing up too fast

I remember that in the tired days of her infancy, I would bounce back and forth between wanting her to stay small and completely dependant upon me for the rest of her life and wanting her to come on and grow some already so I can do things with you. I love doing things with her and spending time with her more than anything on this earth. But there is no bouncing back and forth anymore. I just want her stay small and dependant on me for the rest of her life. She's growing up way too fast for me and it sets me in a tailspin at times.

She has opinions galore and tells me at least 2,479,363 times a day that she's a "big girl" now. She doesn't want my help and strongly believes that she does not need it, ever.

On the way to gymnastics Saturday, I told her that I would be helping her. She promptly told me that she didn't need my help. I told her all of the mommies would be helping. Her response, "those kids need help, I don't!" I'm guessing that this does not bode well for our future teen years. I know I won't be anymore ready for her independence then than I am now. It is going to be a struggle.

One of the most beautiful things I have witnessed is watching her find herself as an individual and blossom into the incredible child that stands before me now. It is also one of the hardest things I have had to endure because the more she grows, the less she needs me in a sense.

Maybe it wouldn't be so hard if she weren't so adamant about spreading her little wings and exerting so much independence all at once. If she weren't so resistant to my attempts to keep her closer.

Or, if her father weren't so damned persistent in trying to make her "Daddy's Girl" and more dependent on him. That one right there ... that stings at times. I have never entertained the notion that she would ever be anything other than "Mommy's Girl." Yet, the minute she is mad at me over the slightest little thing, she wants her Daddy! As much as I love seeing them together and watching their bond grow now that he is home, those particular occasions when she prefers him over me makes me wish that I had went ahead in my twenties and ordered the "popsicle pop" I had so often thought of because I didn't need a man in my life to be a mother.

I didn't do so though, and now I have to share her. He comforts her when she is mad at or upset with me. He helps her do things when Mommy is too busy to be there every single second of the day. He carries her Easter basket for her so she can search for her treasures without the hindrance of dragging the blasted thing around. And he loves her. A popsicle pop couldn't do that.

In the end, she still looks to me when she's happy and wants to celebrate her achievements. She looks to me for comfort when she needs it. She comes to me for hugs, kisses and a refill of her sippy cup. This motherhood gig is harder than I ever thought it would be. It also offers all of the rewards that I knew would be there and more. Being a mother has defined who I am and I embrace it, and her, with all of my heart.

Gymnastics

I haven't been that great on the Mommy front when it comes to getting my child involved in extra curricular activities thus far. With her father being gone for 18 months and the mounting debt that ensued, I never really had the money or the time to do so.

His being home now and working full-time has eased up the day to day debt and given me a little more time to pursue other interests and I signed her up for a gymnastics class over a month ago. I thought it would be cute. Preschool gymnastics for six weeks to get her out of the house and interacting with children her own age beyond her daycare classroom. Nothing could be better, right?

Wrong. I somehow missed the entire concept of it being a parent/child participation activity! How do you miss something like that? Don't get me wrong, I love doing things with her and I am sure it will be fun but a few things have me worried.

1. NOT flexible. Not in the least! Will likely injure myself in places I did not know exist.

2. OLD! I'm not going to be as young as the other mothers in that class. I am almost willing to bet an entire paycheck on it.

3. Pictures. How in the hell am I supposed to take pictures of my child in her very first, oh so cute gymnastics class if I am participating???

Number three up there. That is the killer for me. I am in heaven watching my child in her moments of pure joy and being able to photograph those moments as keepsakes. The only person who may be interested in going is my mother. And well, she admits whole heartedly that she SUCKS at taking pictures. I bought her a digital camera years ago to try to encourage her with the thought that she can delete them if they aren't what she wanted, so she doesn't waste money having bad pictures developed. That idea ... it didn't work so well. Dad will take pictures all day long if the opportunity presents itself. Dad also has a bad back and is in almost constant pain, so going to a gymnastics class at 10AM on Saturday mornings to stand on a hard floor and take pictures for 45 minutes. Not likely happening!

It's driving me bat-shit crazy at the moment that I haven't yet figured out how to participate with my child and take pictures. I am at a loss.

Madeline