Past, Present, Future

My bedroom walls are now three colors.  Dark, medium, light.  Brown, beige, cream.  The strange thing about these particular walls is that the light from the southern exposure makes the colors morph throughout the day.  At times, the brown appears to be a pewter grey.  At times, the beige and cream appear to be the same color.  It is like being in a kaleidoscope room with the colors ever changing.  It adds to my constant feeling of confusion lately.

Since the move, I live in a world where past, present and future commingle.  The way things were done in the past is no longer possible in all situations.  I keep trying to find my way around the present day which is a constant exercise in trial and error.  The future needs to be planned for - registering for school, assimilating into our new surroundings, trying to rebuild our family life.

The past keeps nagging at me, lurking in the back of my mind at all times.  Going to the grocery store, I have to ask myself, "Where was this located in my old store?" in the hopes that it will be located in that same area in the new store.  This has never worked.  It is always in a different place, and my quick trips for groceries end up lasting two hours.

The present is a constant adventure.  Meeting new people is my favorite part.  The neighbors here are very friendly people.  After working in a recruiting office for almost a decade, I am adept at reading people.  And I can tell that the woman next door had been best friends with the woman who used to live in my house.  I saw from her facial expressions that I didn't quite measure up to her expectations when we first met.  The guy across the street is a comedian.  The other guy across the street is very friendly and helpful, and my sense of humor seemed to surprise him.  The guy who lives behind us might just be a bit pervy - he said he'd really like it if I could come over and meet his dog(?)  And he said to come over any time.  Okay, then . . .

The future is a constant worry.  When will the kids make friends?  Will they like school?  Will I find a job?  Am I ever going to figure out an easy way to get all the laundry from upstairs down into the laundry room?  And how am I ever going to make this new pantry work?

I look forward to the day when everything is relaxed again.  Everything is second nature.  Everything will work.  A day when I can look at the colors on my bedroom walls and know that the wall is brown, not grey because it will be locked in my subconscious mind.  The day when certainty returns.

Permanence

Twenty-four years ago today, my father passed away at 9:02 a.m.  I was 24 years old at the time, so he has been gone from my life for as long as he was in it which seems really weird.  Time passes so quickly.  Yet there are times when he is right here with me while I go about my everyday tasks.  A memory will come to mind.  A saying of his will make its way through my thoughts.  And it is like a part of him never really left me.  He was a person worthy of remembering.  A father whom I loved so very much.

Love heals our hearts.  Love transcends the things that bring us down and lifts us up.  Love, it appears, is permanent.  It is as stable and constant as my father was in life.  And it is what I feel today as I look out at the snowflakes gently falling from Heaven and swirling around like an embrace.  One from a loving father who is with me today as he was 24 years ago and he will be 24 years from now.  And I wonder how the love I'm sending back to him looks from where he is in Heaven.

The Long Goodbye

I will be moving on very soon.  After 14 months of unemployment, worry, calling, applying, interviewing, disappointment, stress and many sleepless nights, my husband has gotten a wonderful job offer from a very good company near Madison, Wisconsin.

More than 15 years ago, after my husband graduated from the University of Wisconsin - Madison, it was our dream to settle down around Madison, begin careers and start a family.  That dream wasn't meant to be at that time.  My husband found work here in the Twin Cities, and we built a life here along the beautiful St. Croix River in a sweet (if a bit small) little house.  Like anything else in life, there has been good and bad and in between, but mostly good.

And now we get a second chance at that dream of living in Madison.  Only this time we have two children to uproot from the only home they have ever known.  I am so conflicted.  There are days when tears are very near the surface and I can barely seem to manage the simplest of household chores.  There are other days when I keep thinking of getting a new (and bigger) house, and I can't help but get excited about it.

But there are a few memories of my house that I hold dear, and I can't help but replay them over and over in my head as I prepare to move on from the home I've had for 15 years.  I used to hold my tiny babies and dance with them in the wee morning hours in my living room.  During the holidays, I used to turn off all the lights and have only the Christmas tree lights on in that very same room.  I used to wake up at 5 am to shovel snow after a blizzard, and I would gaze in wonder at the snow covered trees around my house.  It is these quiet, beautiful moments that I will always keep close to my heart.

I don't know anyone who hates goodbyes as much as I do.  Lately, with every football game and apple orchard outing, I've been looking around trying to commit as much of it to memory as I can.  It hurts to know how very much I will miss my life here.  But what hurts even more is knowing that I will move on and forget much of the little things that made up the fabric of my days here in Hudson.  After awhile I won't remember them all.  I will pick up new threads and create a new life.  And while that is what I need to do now, it still makes me sad.

This last year has been a long journey.  But I am confident that the future holds good things for us.  Our heads and eyes are up, and we are moving forward.

Judgment Day

"When I tell them that I'm doing fine

Watching shadows on the wall

Don't you miss the big time, boy?

You're no longer on the ball."

Lyrics from "Watching the Wheels" by John Lennon

A couple of weeks ago I found myself in a job interview for the first time in 14 years. I had been sending out resumes for six months. I was finally contacted by a local placement firm. They had an open position for a Project Manager at a local company. The recruiter asked all the pertinent questions, and then she asked why I thought I could do the job after having not "worked" for the last four years. My inner Bitch Switch was instantly flipped. ("Hey, YOU contacted me" was the first thought in my head.) I gave her a standard line of BS about how I would be perfect for the job, and how she had to look no further than two of my past positions where I had worked for ten years and nine years to see that I was an excellent employee. She asked me to come to her office for another interview.

I went out and bought an interview suit. I polished my interview skills with my husband. I was ready. When I walked into the recruiter's office, I was a bit taken aback. It was in a very dumpy office building. Cardboard boxes lay on the floor. I glanced around mentally noting the numerous changes I would make if I worked there.

The recruiter was very young. She laughed inappropriately and constantly. Her radio was on during the entire interview, and she even turned it up at one point and explained, "I just love Billy Joel, don't you?" I resisted the urge to stand up and walk out. She seemed satisfied with my answers to a few very lame questions, and she scheduled me for an interview with her client company a couple days later.

I put the interview suit on again and made my way to the hiring company. After a short wait, a young man who is an Engineer at the company took me into a conference room. He was very young, and he looked just like the actor who plays Jasper in the "Twilight" movies, except he had shorter hair. He went into a detailed explanation about his position in the company, and I kept thinking "You look just like Jasper the vampire." He asked me about my work ethic, my computer experience, how quickly I catch on to new things, etc. Throughout the whole process, he looked entirely unimpressed with me, and to be honest, I was a bit surprised at his lack of interpersonal skills.

I was trying to figure out what he thought of my answers. I had the feeling the entire time that I was trying to get back on a bike that I hadn't ridden in a very long time, and I couldn't quite get my balance. I used to rock interviews. I knew what people wanted to hear, and I delivered. But during this interview, I kept wanting to jump out of my skin. I would hear myself answer a question, and it was almost as if I were listening to someone who wasn't me. I was on auto pilot.

A second Engineer joined us half way through the interview. He was friendly and a bit loud. He put his hands behind his head and leaned back in the chair all the while complaining about his 16-hour days. He really didn't look at me at first. He was much nicer and asked questions about my previous jobs. He would smile and nod, and we had a good exchange of information.

At the end of the interview, I asked them if they had any other questions for me, and the Second Engineer leaned back, put his hands behind his head and said, "So, what have you been doing for the past four years? I see you haven't been working." I was ready for the question. I explained how I had some personal essays published; I had tutored second graders in reading; I was on my Neighborhood Association Board, and that it was the right decision for my family to stay home, but now I'm ready to return to work. The Vampire Engineer narrowed his eyes a bit. The Second Engineer looked down at the table and leaned back further in his chair. He pressed his lips together, raised his eyebrows and dismissed my answer with something to the effect of "Well, okay then. I guess we're all done here" and they showed me out. The Vampire never looked back or said goodbye. The Second Engineer showed me to the door and walked away quickly.

As I expected, I got the phone call three days later that they would not be hiring me. When I asked the recruiter what the reason was, she said it was because I had not "worked" for the last four years. I let it go.

So, since I am in the habit of using this blog as an outlet for my emotional catharses, here goes:

In my role as a stay-at-home mother, I have supported two young children and a husband every single day. They always have clean clothes, prepared food, and just about anything else they could ever want or need.

I have held my children when they were screaming from vaccinations. I have held a small boy who was getting the open gash in his knee stitched by a doctor. I have slept upright in a chair while holding two sick, feverish kids the entire night.

I make sure the homework is done, the permission slips have been signed, the activity fees are paid, and the library books are returned. I have helped with every school project, chaperoned many a school outing, worked to put together and hold holiday classroom celebrations. I have baked for bake sales. I have signed-up and accompanied my children to a myriad of sports and extracurricular activities. I am the Mom on the sidelines that cheers her kids on loudly.

I have helped children learn to read when they were way behind their classmates because they transferred to our school from some crappy inner city school where they fell through the cracks. I have gotten into the face of a little girl with a tremendous chip on her shoulder and made her realize that she is too smart not to be able to read. I celebrated every little milestone with the kids I tutored. And I felt a "happy sad" when they no longer needed my help. I cried out of frustration when one little girl who was making a great deal of progress got taken from her home and sent to Iowa (after her mother was arrested for prostitution and dealing drugs from her apartment) and I knew I would never get to see or tutor her again. I pray every night that she has kept on reading and has found someone who would care about her and would teach her well.

I do mountains of laundry and dishes each week because I love my family, and I love being a wife and mother. So, if someone feels that the last four years of my life have been some sort of "Mom Vacation", they can kiss my a$$. I can only hope that I will have the opportunity to interview with and work for more enlightened people in the future.

"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." Eleanor Roosevelt

There Once Was . . .

There once was a Daddy

Who had a daughter

He tossed her

And caught her

Sang to her

And swung her

He chased her

And hugged her

He taught her

He loved her

What a wonderful life he made for her

And though he is gone, he has never, ever left her

"I'll love you forever, Daddy."

From that daughter.

(In loving memory of my father who passed away 23 years ago today.)

I'll be Home for Christmas and in a Mental Hospital by New Years

Welcome to my messed up holiday season. Seriously. There has never been a Christmas that I can recall where everything has gone so terribly wrong.

It started out like every other year. Right after Halloween, I started buying gifts and making preparations. Then, suddenly, I was caught up in a tornado of orchestra concerts, choir concerts, classroom parties, my son's birthday party, etc., and found myself with two weeks until Christmas. Even then, I couldn't get my act together enough to completely decorate the house.

I knitted a lot of presents this year which was wonderful but very time consuming. I let the kids decorate the tree and my ornament box got completely messed up. There are very few things in life that I am completely obsessive about, and my ornament boxes are those very few things. Several ornaments went missing, and so did the rest of my holiday and my sanity.

In the middle of this winter of my discontent, I am mindful of the real reason for the season. I hold my loved ones close. I cherish the Christmas cards from my friends and family. I understand that it is not how many times we fall down in life, but how many times we get back up. Life goes on.

Perhaps the reason I go through periods like this is to make me appreciate the wonderful life I lead. And while I'll soon put away the Christmas gifts and decorations and regret that I didn't have my picture perfect holiday this year, I know that (God willing) I'll have another chance at it next year. Life goes on.

Until then, there will be so many things to look forward to: birthday celebrations, the other yearly holidays, a summer filled with baseball and softball, planting flowers, kids moving on to the next grade in school, football season, and all the ups and downs on that rollercoaster ride that is my life.

But in my basement, there will be boxes of ornaments just waiting . . .

Merry Christmas everyone.

Be Careful What You Wish For (For 37 Years)

I may have mentioned that I have a "bucket list", and I've had one before they were popular or even referred to as "bucket lists". I accomplished one of the things on my bucket list today.

My list is very prosaic compared to one of my friend's lists. She wants to do things like live in another country. I want to do things like learn to swim (which I tried - unsuccessfully - in my 20s); learn to skate backward (which I tried last year but have not quite perfected); learn to play piano; learn a foreign language; and I've always wanted to learn to ride a horse.

When I was a young girl, there was a neighbor girl who had been riding her horse (a beautiful white horse named Wendy) when a crop dusting plane spooked the horse and dragged and killed her. That incident gave my parents all the ammunition they needed to shoot down my requests for riding lessons.

Flash forward 37 years. I had mentioned to my husband that I had always wanted riding lessons. So, my darling husband bought the kids and I two lessons each at a local horse stable. I made the appointment for the first lessons, and the kids and I arrived at the horse arena this afternoon. I was so excited, I was almost giddy. I watched the lessons before us, and I was beside myself with excitement when it came our turn for lessons.

The kids had very gentle smaller young ponies. I had Nick. The trainer had pulled Nick into the arena just for me. He was not happy. He kept jerking his head back and forth. He refused the trainer's peppermint treats. He had a wild look in his eyes. By the grace of God, I was able to get him saddled and get on him just fine. The problem was that Nick refused to move when I would cluck and nudge him gently in his sides. He wanted to put his head down and make a "whinny" sound. I got him to walk around the arena. I worked on my posture, my place in the hunt saddle, the position of my feet and where I was looking. Nick did nothing but fight me the entire way. I tried to get him to trot. He trotted up to a mirror on the side of the arena and stopped and looked at himself. The second time I got him up to a trot, he started to take off, and I lurched forward before remembering that I had to sit back to keep my balance. I hated Nick. He kept trying to bend his head down to the ground, and I pulled back on the reins. That made him walk backward. I was so frustrated. I couldn't even get this horse to walk around the area without having problems.

At long last, the class was over, and I was able to get off Nick without any problems. The trainer helped my kids take their horses out of the arena, and I was supposed to stand in the arena with Nick. The minute the trainer was out of sight, Nick nudged me with his head. I tried to pet his head, and he almost knocked me over. I started to walk away from him, and he reached over and bit my shirt and pulled on it. I hated Nick even more.

Finally, my daughter came back in the arena and led Nick away. He followed her gently glancing back at me every once in awhile to give me a dirty look. Nick hated me right back.

We have one more lesson at the horse farm. I'm hoping to get any other horse but Nick. He should have been named Satan. I have to admire the intelligence of this horse though. He was able to see right through me and show me who has the upper hand. He stands way taller than me, and he weighs over 1,200 pounds. No doubt about it, he has the upper hand.

So, the moral of this story is not really "be careful what you wish for", but rather "try not to anticipate things so much". It's too easy to get disappointed. The other moral is that no one can make you feel inferior without your consent. Yet another moral is that there is almost always some SOB ready to stand between you and your dreams, and you have to learn to deal with them. I guess I got more out of these lessons than how to make a horse walk, stop and trot.

I know I have to get back in that arena and get back on that horse. I'm just hoping it's a different horse next time. If not, I'll be prepared this time.