The Art of Letting Go. Which I Have NOT Mastered.

This has been the year of lessons learned. The biggest lesson has been that of learning to let go. I've gotten better at it, but not quite perfect. As a matter of fact, THIS was me the other night:

 

I know I posted this on Facebook and y'all thought I was just some lunatic mom, so let me

 clarify to make myself look indefinitely better than what you are thinking about me right now:

1- I was practicing with one of my other kids in this pic, no actual spying going on....
2- I was planning on spying only on my own kid, not some other random person. NO creeper here.

All this started about 10 days ago. The kids and I were hanging out at the Boulder City Pool, because that's what we do. It's right next to the High School, which is 3 minutes from my house and I said, "Wow, if you went to school in town, things would be so close and convenient..."  Why did I randomly say this 2 weeks before the kids' private school was supposed to start? Well, it wasn't quite arbitrary. His school starts 10 days earlier than all the other schools in Clark County and honestly I wasn't ready for him to leave yet. So, the next best solution was for him to SWITCH schools, that way I would have him 10 more days. Logical.

So, I SUCCESSFULLY got my kid to switch schools. I really have very limited experience with US High Schools and High School life and what I saw in Boulder City reminded me of what's on the kid show "Zoe 101" and the fictitious PCA and I could totally picture some of the episodes taking place there, so I decided it was great. And he was going to go to school there, and we would record a series there, like BCH Academy and it was settled. Also, I had my kid for longer.

We registered the kid and the lady was lovely and totally looked like a "Barb" and she was a Barb. And on the phone before we went over she told me she likes Dr. Pepper, because people tell me that sort of stuff, and we brought her one, like a really large one and I think I made a friend for life. So, everything worked out fine. I had bought myself 2 weeks. We left our info with the Athletic Director for soccer and went back home. I promised my kid I would play Call of Duty and then Seb said that if I really wanted to be nice to him I would NOT play, so I went to the others and offered to play and they muttered something about having their own lives so I went back and told Seb we had to make lists of things, like the kind of how to act in High School, and he suggested he write one for me, like how NOT to act as a mom in High School and one of the first things he said was that it would be nice if I would just go ahead and shut up, generally speaking, every once in a while.

So I rolled around the bed feeling sorry for myself and then I got a call back saying that my kid was to show for a physical at 4pm (one hour) and his tryouts and consequent practices were at 6pm. And then my kids said, "OK, you're on. Drop me off and I will call you when its over."

So I went into hysterics and flailed around the house, whining to everyone and anyone, the dogs barking in confusion and then Thorsten said, "If this freaks you out this bad, borrow my binoculars."

And that was that. A new world of possibilities opened up. I was purring like a fat cat, practicing with Julian for the next hour or so how to lay in the grass and look camouflage-y. Thus the green shirt. And I got really good at focusing and all that stuff.

Then I dropped off Sebastian and to his great relief left right away. I parked in the main parking lot and Julian and I crept back through the gate, laying low on the upper berm of the field.

And life was good for about 3 minutes. I watched  them and he smiled at people and the coach seemed nice and I was happy. I could also see the tree I was next to so beautifully and I could focus in on the leaves of the one low-hanging branch and it was a picturesque moment. I put the binoculars down, and started fishing around in my pockets to get my phone for this photo-op when all of a sudden the team came running by. Under the berm but umm, right under me and my binoculars and my bag of Gummibears, and I held out my bag and offered and they just stared and whispered things and kept running and there was Seb, he looked at me and I can't swear on it, he definitely won't confirm, but he might have been giving me the finger.

So, needless to say the lessons I learned:

1-  I still "lost" my kid.
2- I am banned from any games unless I wear a hat and sunglasses, per Seb.
3- Gummibears aren't good bribing material for soccer players.
4- Stay in the car if you are creeping.

Lost in the Woods- A Terrible, Awful Mother's Day.

     Have you ever thought about angels? Because truthfully I have not much. I have at some times considered God's INTERVENTION, but I never pictured a white, floating, good-looking, long-haired ANGEL flying around in my midst.

     Until this Mother's Day that is. I had to call 911 and it was the WORST, most awful thing I have ever had to do. I HAVE called the police before, I have called them when the meth user next door in college was breaking in the door yelling that he was going to kill his girlfriend. I called the police not too long ago about two boys on a Tuesday morning at the gas station trying to hitch rides over to Arizona. But I was never prepared for the call that said: "I have three children missing in the woods for over two hours. We have looked and searched for them this whole time, but there has been no sign of them."

I couldn't say it without crying. I couldn't look over at my sister-in-law, whose 8 year old daughter was part of the three missing. I couldn't envision my children and why they might not be responding without a lump in my throat bigger than those horse pills I sometimes try to swallow without water.

I refused to describe their clothes and refused to talk anymore, I wasn't able to. I just cried for them to get here, get here quickly before dark set in.

It was Mother's Day. The only hitch in the day was that Judd was working, but the kids had a PLAN and I liked it. They wanted to have a picnic outside. It was hot though, so I suggested Mt Charleston, where the high was only supposed to be in the 70s, as opposed to the 100 down here in the valley. The cousins wanted to come along and it was a date.

It was busy up there, so we decided to pull over at some random spot and eat. The kids ventured up the mountain a bit and suggested we eat a few feet up, on a nice even landing. And we did. The kids explored a little and said the top of the hill was soon to be reached and someone had made a type of a hut up there, camp fire and all. It was comfortable. It was warm, I was laying on a blanket, eating every large strawberry out of the fruit bowl. Jena was sitting, amicably chatting about work. The kids were buzzing around us.

Then Gigi said she had not made it to see the camp and she and Ellie wanted to go up. I asked Sebastian, who had not been up yet to go with them and away they strolled, a short little walk ahead.
We continued chatting, Julian eating another sandwich, the others playing around underneath us.

My brother went off with two of them and we laid out in the sun. He came back about 30 minutes later and asked if the other three had returned. They had not seen them on the top. We said no and I slowly sat up, looking at my watch. They had left an hour ago.
Ralph: "It's dense up there, I called for them a few times, but my voice did not echo at all."
I got up. "Seb is good with nature stuff, he'll bring them back."
Ralph: "He would have brought them back already."

We decided to break into three groups and look for them. Ralph and my youngest boy went straight up, my oldest nephew and Thor went to the right, Jena and her younger son went to the left of the cars. I was to stay at the picnic area in case they came back. I stayed 3 minutes. Then I grabbed a bag of Cheetos and went up the mountain, carefully dropping a chip every few feet to mark my way, Gretel-style. Within minutes I was inside dense brush, having a hard time finding my bearings. I kept looking at the Cheetos. I ran into my brother at some point who asked if I was worried. I told him I was getting there. I told him Seb wouldn't lead them astray and he said:"THAT'S why I am worried."

We yelled. We timed our yells at 2 mins each. We had instructed the kids earlier to yell BALMER if they were in distress so we listened for that. Not a peep. Sometimes, when I would get close to one of our other groups I would hear "SEB", the agreed upon call to find them. I ached to hear a yodel, which was supposed to be the signal that we had found them. NOTHING.

We were soon dehydrated and painfully aware that they had run up the mountain without any drinks or any supplies. Seb HAD taken his phone, I texted him. I knew there was no signal, but I hoped a text would go through. It was returned as undeliverable. The reality that they were lost and there was no way to get ahold of them set in.

I saw my brother and he said it was time to call the police or rangers or both. I walked to the closest street sign so I would know what to say as to where we were. We called 911. THE CALL DID NOT GO THROUGH. I could not believe this. I thought emergency calls would go through anywhere. My boys started digging around the car for their phones and started attempting to make phone calls. I walked, I walked around the whole area, anywhere I could looking for people. I described our kids and asked if they would try their phones. I pleaded to every stranger I saw that afternoon for helping me with my kids. We looked and looked for Rangers trucks to come by. I did not want to leave the spot we were at. It had gotten darker and cloudy and cold and all I could do was imagine.

My brother drove around the canyon in case they got out somewhere else. Jena and I were grim. She was wearing sunglasses and it was not sunny. I stayed away from the other kids because I knew I could not talk. The remaining boys kept yelling "SEB" and I cringed every single time. I contemplated how to get ahold of Judd and get him up here. I worried about the night. Jena worried about kidnappings. I worried about injuries. I worried about Seb being hurt and the girls having left to find us only to get lost more. I worried about the little girls and them being scared.

I thought how it was Mothers Day and at Church we had taken a moment to think about the moms we have lost and moms who have lost. My brother looked at me and told me that to panic would do no one good.

We were scratched up. We were bleeding all over. My feet were a bloody mess, since I was only wearing flip flops. Our voices were hoarse and our hope was vanishing.

And then 2 things happened. A car pulled over, the driver walked up to us and just looked at us. I asked him if he had a working phone and he handed me one, wordlessly. I started the 911 call, then handed the phone to my brother.

My son was wearing a sky blue T-shirt with the word Wyoming written on it. He was wearing grey shorts, black sneakers and white socks. He is blond, his hair recently cut super short. He is slight and gentle. And he cares, he cares so much. He would be back if he was able to I said, then my voice cracked. My daughter has long brown hair and blue eyes. She was wearing a Jackson Hole pink shirt and checkered pink shorts. Purple sneakers. She smiles a lot, but she probably wouldn't be smiling now. She would be scared and would need a gentle voice. She is scared of lizards.
My niece Ellie was wearing a purple shirt and black shorts. She is vivacious and could probably be heard. She is stubborn, too and might have wandered off. She is little. She is 8. Gigi is little, she is 7.
And they really really needed their moms. We really needed them back. Gigi is deathly afraid of wolves. Seb pretends he's not scared, but he is. He knows he is responsible for them.

Police was on their way. The car that had pulled over said they would drive to the nearest ranger station and bring them back.

We waited around a little. Then my brother packed bottles of water in a bag, slung it over his shoulder and said he wouldn't be back unless it was with the kids and left with his oldest. We begged him to stay but he left.

I sat by the road, wearily waiting for a car to drive by. Maybe someone had them and was bringing them back. The younger boys were at the bottom left creek yelling. Thorsten's voice extremely loud. He screamed Seb's name incessantly, while Julian was fiddling with his phone. Later I saw that he called 911 and Seb 87 times.

Then a car came driving up the road, drove past us, flipped a U-e, came to our parking lot and stopped. Out came a Hispanic man. He looked at me. I hesitated. I had told everyone I saw about the kids but he just looked at me, then climbed over the shrubs and bushes and disappeared to the right, where there were no trails and disappeared. I wondered about him.

Then 5 minutes later Jena looked in that direction and said: "IS THAT THEM?"  And out of the brush emerged first Gigi, then Ellie, trailed by Seb. Gigi started running, Ellie started bawling and Sebastian just stopped.

Are you a Mom? Do you remember that feeling when you first held your new baby in your arm, in awe at the deep love, the unconditional devotion you felt for your child from that first moment?  I experienced that feeling again on Mother's Day, holding my sobbing children, nursing their many bloody scratches and wiping their tears.

Apparently Seb had been hit in the head by a large branch and had passed out for what the girls described as about 20 minutes. Once he was able to see clear, they had gotten more and more entwined in the dense brush. Until a Hispanic man suddenly stood in front of them, pointed to the shrubs and said: "Two women, behind those trees." Then walked off. Never to be seen by us again. Seb later said that they were about to turn around since it was just dense brush ahead and no path. They were about to walk into the opposite direction.

And as we held them and nursed them and laughed with them, police cars and rangers descended upon us. And the car with the cell phone guy returned to check on us. And our kids could tell them: "We are safe".  And I could thank God and the Angel, who didn't look at all like I would have envisioned.

Maria, the Housekeeper, Strikes Again

So I hadn't seen Maria in a while. I mean, don't get me wrong, she still comes to the house but I have been either leaving for work before she gets there or I have been carefully executing an exit plan that does not involve talking to her much. As in I've been making sure to get my keys and briefcase before she gets there and then I'd holler something nondescript as I would run out the door.

Every once in a while I would miscalculate the sounds coming from downstairs and I would come running down the stairs and she would be standing there, just staring at me. And then I would start wondering if she knew, somehow just knew, about the intricate detailed plans I would make to ensure not seeing her and then I would offer her random stuff like McDonald's cheeseburgers (her favorite) or the title to my house, depending on how frazzled and guilty I would feel.

So, today was a little different, She was coming and I had a sick child and I REALLY needed to leave him with her, because I cannot possibly miss another Monday at school, since two of my weekly classes on Monday have been cancelled like every week either because of holidays or made- up holidays by me or the school.

So, I went downstairs with a big smile and said: "Hola Maria, Como Esta?"( Hello Maria, how are you?)
And she just stared at me and I continued smiling with one of those dumb plastered smiles and she stared some more and then she said:
"Su pelo es muy largo." (Your hair is very long) and I got to feeling kind of self conscious and started petting my hair and mumbled: "Si, si."
And then she said:" Es demasiado largo." (It's too long)
So, I said: "Disculpe?" (Excuse me) and she pointed at my hair and said:
"Es bastante." (It's long enough.)
I was all like:"Umm, ok, claro."
She came around from behind the kitchen counter and mumbled: "No le va a hacer mas joven"
I was all like:" HUH?"
And she repeated: "No le va a hacer mas joven."
I contemplated murder but instead said:" I am NOT growing my hair to look younger..."
She smirked and raised her left eyebrow and smiled at me and said: "OK."
I told her I was just growing it.
And she said: "Aha, todos sabemos que acaba de cumplir 41 anos."(something ridiculous about me turning 41)
Again I was all like: "What's your point, Lady??"
Maria: "IS this your midlife crisis?"
And I said:"No", and she smirked some more.
SO, I changed the subject and said: "Julian is upstairs, sick. Can you keep an eye on him?"
 And she nodded her head and said: "Of course, he is YOUNG and needs help. You on the other hand- just admit...." (laughing hysterically).
SO I sighed and said: "I just admit."
She said there are worse things than growing old and I mumbled something and she said:
"Sometimes makeup can make you look younger."
 I grumbled:"Oh my God, Lady, I AM wearing make up."
And she said: "EXACTLY", then turned away and continued wiping the counter.

 I told her I would stop in a lunchtime and she suggested that I bring some cheeseburgers when I come. And a Dr Pepper.  So, I did.

Life Lessons Courtesy of Krazy Glue

You know how sometimes life just kind of tinkers along and we get busy with day to day things like working and getting dressed and undressed and teaching ourselves to only wash our hair every other day though it goes against everything inside you that is screaming "gross" but your hairdresser kind of insisted you better either do that or stop having your hair colored which is grossly impossible considering that along the right side of your head, like where you would part it, a long thick grey streak has set up home and I HAVE to dye my hair and it only makes sense to do so in blondish color because then the contrast, when it starts to grow out after a week, is not so great. So, anyways just life as we know it until I randomly and mistakenly glued my finger onto a tube of different glue.

As in, I was being the glue queen. I am NEVER adequately Super Mom and I decided that for Crazy Hair Day I WOULD be awesome, dammit-  thus the glue. OK, maybe that doesn't make perfect sense to you, but believe me, it did to me. IF this still works out tomorrow, I will be sure to post pics. Now, if on Tuesday my kids show up with their hair shaved- that's a different story.  I had all this glue all over the place and when I went to pick up the Krazy Glue it was open and it fell on the counter and I grabbed for it while still holding the other tube-  and there you have it.

The tube just kind of hung off my finger. And the timing was so incredibly wrong, we were LATE for Gigi's soccer game, and on the way out I had just tried sweeping these glue bottles off the counter to "clean" up (yup, I am the proverbial sweeper of stuff under the rug person). And I was sooo annoyed. I just wanted to rip it off, but I was smart enough to realize that it really was stuck on pretty well. My instinct and usual flippant nature didn't work. Like, I had to come up with a plan.

So, I stopped. I stood there looking at my finger with the tube of glue hanging off it. And, it was suddenly the PROVERBIAL tube. Of glue. It glued me to the house. It made me stop and realize that while this was going on my sweet teenager whipped out one of his devices and started googling how to deal with Krazy Glue and my other, crazy boy told me to hold the hand in scalding water- NOW- and my- little not so much anymore- guy hollered for Gigi to get the phone and call dad. And I noticed how Gigi's front tooth is really just hanging by a thread at this point and she looks kind of Nightmare on Scary Street-ish like that and how Julian had rings under his eyes and I had suspected for a somewhat unconscious while that he reads after we go to sleep, late at night. And how ridiculous Thorsten sounded, but how worried and serious he looked as he grabbed my hand and my cool-under-pressure Sebastian, who was my hero the day Thorsten's head exploded- literally.

And I cherished the moment and didn't want the tube off for one ridiculous moment. Because it is random moments like these, where I take a forced step back and realize what I have. And realize what really matters, like the psyche of these 4 kids.

So, I just went ahead and took a knife to my hand. The great news is that Gigi won her soccer game.

Love is such a Painful Emotion

This blog entry is about love. I don't mean the love that shocks and overwhelms us as we stare at our newborn child, immediately and eternally taken. I don't, either, mean the love you embark on when you mutter the words "I do" and consequently a lifetime of give and take.

I am talking about the love that all of a sudden is just THERE. The kind where you realize that love has become the dominant emotion you feel for someone. The kind I feel right now, and it makes me so very sad.

There are people in life that are givers- nurturing by nature and then often also by profession. A good match, and my friend is one of them.  And as much as I myself often care, I really just don't always feel that way about people. I love them, but when they need more than I am willing to give, because my own life to me is oh so difficult, I kind of just give up, hoping things work out. I hate, hate that about me. Did I mention I hate this?

So, the other day when my *friend* announced to me that she had breast cancer, it took my breath away. I had to consciously remind myself to breathe. I worried at first, that the fear I felt would be due to the fact that I did not know how these news would affect me.You know, ME.  But, it didn't. My heart just opened and sat there for the taking.

And I sit here and I cry. I have thoughts of her family and her fears and I want to TAKE some of them and share in this pain with her, because she shouldn't have to go through this. I can take so much, I want to take one for her or take ten for her. K, I would do that for you if I could.

This is a very short and hastily written entry, because tomorrow I will see her and then I don't know when I will see her again, and I just want her to know, or to feel, that she is NOT out there alone, at all.

She told me the other day about how she had a premonition of sorts, where she dreamt about going up the Lake Mead/215 ramp and how she saw what she dubbed a Beast on top, and she knew he meant her harm. The next day she received the test results. I hadn't thought about this dream much until I happened to be on that same road yesterday. And I looked up, looking for the Beast and I kind of felt an erie presence. And I thought "You are not alone facing this, K" and realized that there were no cars ahead of me, or anywhere in sight. I kind of looked over my shoulders and thought: "Yeah, WHERE is everyone? Aren't you guys out there, willing to stand up to this evil?", and just as I thought this cars on the left and the right just swooshed by me and OWNED that ramp, in the most colorful glory of rainbow colors. And I felt it was the army of supporters of her and all those suffering this ugly disease.

Will you, please, join me in loving her?

I Miss You, Dammit

I was excited today, since we were going to go to the lake for the first time this year. It just kind of came about randomly since the pool wasn't quite summer ready and it was HOT here in Vegas and I asked the kids and they said: "Yes! Please!"

So I cleaned out the kayak and readied the tent and the chairs and the tarps and blankets and towels and ran to the store and bought food and supplies and the kids helped me and we waited for the cousins to come over to meet us and I mentioned something at some point to an old friend and he said: "Ha, just like your father- the two of you and water." And then he went on to talk about something completely different and I was no longer listening. I vaguely registered that he was still on the line.

I MISS MY DAD.

"I miss my dad!!" My brain was screaming at me and I was screaming back: "Shut up!" and it yelled back at me: "I'm just stating the obvious! I MISS MY DAD."  And I said: "Shut the fu** up, I have no use for you here and now, leave me alone."  "I MISS DAD".  And I threatened myself with myself and made me pull up the usual visual distractor which is an old TV that has run out of programming and just shows and screams fuzz at me. "Stare at that."

I finished cleaning out the car.

I miss my dad.

I packed the rest of the car and then my brother showed up and he asked what all the food was and I said I made sandwiches, because the kids like eating them at the lake. And he said: "You sound just like dad".  And then he went on to suggest we eat out and I screamed at him: "NO, I have enough sandwiches for all of us. The kids like it this way."  And he just shook his head at me and I missed my dad. "It's OK to like it just like dad, you don't need your kids as a front." And I was angry at him. Leave me alone.

And we drove down to the lake and I was almost giddy. The music was just right, there were a fair amount of cars in front of us doing the same thing, the car smelled of sunscreen, the sun was shining down on us, Sebastian asked if we would get ice cream on the way home (of COURSE) and Gigi said it was the perfect time to take a little nap. I flared my nostrils, trying to take in the air and the memory, new and old.

I really miss my dad.

The lake was fabulously fun. My niece hung out with me in the water, floating and saying: "This is the life!" and I stared at her, because in German, that was always my dad's saying. It wasn't quite so much fun when Julian showed up with a deep cut and my brother and I were debating whether or not he needed stitches, but even then the boys started cleaning up the equipment in anticipation, holding on to their slices of watermelon, sand in their hair and smudged across their cheeks.

We decided Julian would live (he was a bit doubtful still at this time) and left for our ice cream date. My brother winked at me over dripping ice cream at the harbor and said: "Now THIS does not remind me of dad. This is all YOU." And I just glanced at him and muttered: "Shut up, Iraina, shut up."

And I missed my dad.

Men Are ALWAYS Hitting On Me

A couple of days ago someone asked me what makes me tick. And I kind of felt like I had to immediately get defensive and was all like: "Well, truthfully I feel like my heart does more of a "Boom-Boom- BoomBoomBoom" sound. The ticking is more like a clock and I feel like that is misleading. It doesn't go: Tick tock, tick tock.... And, I do realize that the way I said those booms makes my heart sound irregular which it in fact is not but I can't help but visualize it as a little crooked and a little off-color and so it goes.. It's irregular when I imagine it though not backed up scientifically..."

And I kind of helplessly looked up at the man and he said: "Exactly. Truthfully I AM really curious." Or something similar to that. And then I got all flustered because while I had talked I had convinced myself that he had just asked me to be polite but the way he said: "Exactly" made me feel like he really was wondering. So, I started wringing my hands and almost ripped off my one finger when my nail got stuck under my ring and I hollered a little which I cleverly disguised as a chant that I explained to him I had come up with to describe myself. At this point I felt oh, a good 10 years old.

"Well, people think I am funny. But I am NOT. I just write funny. Usually when they first meet me they say something like: "You are hilarious. Say something funny about me."
And I say: "No, really I am not.
They: "Don't be so modest. Just do it."
And then I say: "You look like a camel."
And they say, offended-ly: "That's not funny."
Me:"It's funny to me."
And then I go on saying: "I am sorry, but it is true."
And then they walk off severely offended and I yell after them: "But camels are super cool! They store water in their humps for weeks! Do you do that in yours??"

He kind of looked at me again and I could tell he was trying to figure out how old I was. I told him I was close to 40.  He said: "Years?" And I was all flattered at first and told him that everybody bitches around about how we in the 80's rubbed cooking oil all over ourselves and sat out in the sun and I obviously look nothing like 40 to him and he stared at me again. And I came to realize that he was just so befuddled and because a 40-year- old should probably act a little more mature. And then I felt compelled to throw in what I always do: "I dye my hair to match my personality," and he smiled and I was glad he didn't threaten to call the PC-police, because honestly I was starting to wonder if he was working undercover for them. I decided I had to draw the big guns: "You know, I DO have a Master's degree...." and he continued staring at me wordlessly so I continued explaining:" Well, it's not random or anything. I mean I did ALSO do the Master Gardener program but that's not an actual DEGREE that's just what they call you because you master gardening and truthfully again I do not feel as though I have mastered much in gardening, desert landscaping being my friend and all. My degree is in something quite bonefide and you would not know what it means anyways so I won't bore you trying to explain this to you. "

And he didn't answer- yet again- which encouraged me further: "You know, I am actually not available. I APPRECIATE the interest, th-" I glanced over at his name patch, which coincidentally was ironed on his work shirt and I had been looking at stuff like that at the store, while considering whether or not it would be a good idea to have my kindergarteners use a hot iron in art class- and then I kind of did one of those mental brakes and I stared at him.
"Why are you here, wearing a shirt with your name embellished on it?"
He: "Ma'am, like I've been trying to tell you for the last 15 minutes, I am here with the City Waterworks. There is something wrong with the way your water reader is working. It ticks in irregular intervals. We need to turn off your water for a few minutes to check. PLEASE, may I proceed with my work?"
And you think I would have held up a white flag in a peace offering at this point, tucking in my tail and wandering off: "Sir, ignore what I just said. It is early in the day and all, but can I offer you a drink? Something stronger? A beer or something? PLEASE... WHY ARE YOU LEAVING???......... COME BACK HERE!"

My water was off for about 5 minutes, then I heard some tires screeching outside. What a weird start to my day, at 7:30AM last Wednesday.