tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7930605214981522362023-11-16T02:42:42.766-08:00Diary Of A Freelance MomWhere "Grassroots" Meets The SidewalkSalmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.comBlogger65125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-793060521498152236.post-29699105296993008882013-11-15T08:00:00.000-08:002013-11-15T08:03:47.520-08:00Peeking Out from My Hiding Place<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I’ve written
this blog post four different times. Seriously.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I hadn’t
posted here for a long time, and I felt like I should. I also had closed
down <a href="http://www.bonanza.com/salmagundi" target="_blank">my little online shop</a>, and I felt like I should get it open again.
I’d stayed away from <a href="http://www.facebook.com/rummagerampage" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, too, and people were starting to ask where I
was. So I started writing up a blog post, but I scrapped it. Again
and again and again.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>The first
time, I thought it sounded too negative. Too much of a downer. A
few years ago, I used to blog more often about more fun things – activities we
were doing, funny stuff the kids did. Then, starting a couple of years
ago, things started getting really difficult. When I looked back over my
blog, I noticed that more and more I’d posted about troubles, and I didn’t want
to make another post like that. I wanted to say something upbeat,
something positive that was going on. So I tossed out the post I’d
written and decided to mull it over a bit more.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>There just
wasn’t anything positive going on.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I tried
again. That time I thought I just sounded fake. I’d tried writing
about my current situation, but sugar-coating it a little with an “I’m keeping
my sense of humor” spin. Ugh. I have never been a good liar.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>My third
attempt was just boring. It sounded like a list of medical procedures and
perhaps a commentary on the healthcare system. It also sounded – I
thought – like I was possibly complaining and hinting that something like
Obamacare should swoop in and fix my problems. I’m not and I don’t.
And I have no desire to get political on my blog. So, I scrapped that one
as well.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Now here I
am at my fourth try, and I’m determined to get this posted. I need to do
it because I need to get my toes back into the water, so to speak. I need
to get back in the game, at least to some extent. I’ve isolated myself,
and I need to TALK. But not too much, not just yet. Because if I talk too
much right now, it’s going to sound like one of those first three attempts, and
I will end up tossing this.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>My situation
just isn’t good right now, and there’s no sugar-coating it, so I won’t. But I also won’t blather on and on. Fear of being a “downer” has kept me quiet,
but maybe being quiet has just made things worse, made me even more of a “downer”,
and I think I need to start turning that around.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b> The
truth is I’m ill, and I’ve been unemployed since 2011, I can’t work (I’m really
not hire-able with this condition), I’m uninsured, and I’ve sold off everything
I can to pay doctors. I even sold my car. The truth is I have
tapped every resource available to me, and there’s no more money to pay any
more doctors. The truth is it took almost two years for me to get an
accurate diagnosis (which still isn’t “official” on paper because there is a
test I can’t afford, but my doctors know what I have), and now I can’t afford
the treatment anyway. The truth is I will probably qualify for Medicaid
under this new expansion that came with Obamacare, but the truth about THAT is
that I am really struggling with having to accept something to which I’ve been
philosophically opposed, and I’m struggling with accepting that I am not
capable of self-sufficiency right now. The truth is that without a car
anymore, I am isolated in my house most of the time, and I spend my days trying
to figure out how to keep the lights on. Sometimes I have to choose
between food and filling a prescription for pain medication, without which life
is intolerable. The truth is that, although I’ve finally cleared my house
of homeless kids (it wasn’t easy and it took a lot to convince them all that I
just can’t do this anymore for now), I miss the bustling home I’m accustomed to
and the silence is killing me. The truth is it bothers me beyond words
that I can’t help my kids with anything right now, but rather I have to ask
them to help me. The truth is this sucks.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>There.
It’s all out on the table. This is where my life is, for now. I
would get into talking about my medical condition – it’s not like it’s a secret
– but that would just turn this post into more than I wanted it to be. I
just wanted to get back into feeling in touch with the world out there.
That’s all. So, I will talk about that later.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>The truth is
I will figure this out. Posting here was my first step toward that.
So thank you for reading and for hanging in there with me. I really do
appreciate it. I can’t tell you how much.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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Salmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-793060521498152236.post-32267969953371005742013-07-16T07:07:00.000-07:002013-07-16T07:07:13.388-07:00Down to One... For Now...<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">About a month ago I was all ready to write a post here about how I'd <i>finally </i>gotten my house emptied of "strays" again, and I was all jazzed about getting back to that <a href="http://www.freelance-mom.blogspot.com/2013/04/the-year-of-oxygen-mask.html" target="_blank">"me time"</a> thing. Well, that situation didn't even last long enough for me to type up the post. Before the dust even settled I had one back. But at least it's just one. Sigh...</span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I don't know what I'm going to do with this 16-year-old girl. I really don't. Not that she's a bad kid - she's not. It's just that her needs are far, far more than I am equipped to handle right now. I had found her a place to live; well, actually, <i>she</i> found a place to live, with a friend of her family, and I just helped set up arrangements with them. I provided them with info and resources to help them with the issues (enrolling in school without any documentation or parent's signature, for example) that come along with taking in a kid whose parent won't sign any papers. And her mom will <u>not</u> sign any papers.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">That living arrangement didn't last long, though, before her mother "lured her back home" (those were the words of the family friend who had taken her in) and then promptly kicked her out again. From what I've observed, I think the relationship between this girl and her mother is one of those "I don't really want to care for her but I don't want anyone else to have her, either, because that makes me look bad" situations. In any case, I had her back at my doorstep in a matter of weeks.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This girl has lived so many places - bounced back and forth between parents, relatives, even Child Protective Services. I don't want to go into great detail, though, since I try not to do that when talking about a specific kid here (you know, privacy and all). I've probably said too much already.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I don't know where this is going, but I'm still working on trying to find her a stable, long-term home. Everyone involved in her life - her mom and dad and different relatives - seems to have a different story or a different excuse every time I turn around. It isn't clear to me at this point who even has legal custody of her, or who even has the right to sign certain papers or give certain permissions. I never know who to believe, either, since everyone I talk to says something different about everyone else in the scenario. The one thing that seems to be consistent, though, is that her mother is a bit... Unreasonable? </span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm still reaching for that metaphorical oxygen mask for myself, but it seems to just brush the tips of my fingers and then fall away...</span>Salmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-793060521498152236.post-2419252884460147282013-05-18T06:31:00.003-07:002013-05-18T06:31:57.191-07:00"Just When I Thought I Was Out... They Pull Me Back In!"<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Okay, I confess: I haven't actually seen The Godfather Part III, but I <i>did </i>watch The Sopranos (lol), so that famous line from Michael Corleone came immediately to mind when I got up the other morning to realize that every available room in my house was filled with teenagers, and there was even one sleeping on the sofa to boot.</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I posted here recently about <a href="http://www.freelance-mom.blogspot.com/2013/04/the-year-of-oxygen-mask.html" target="_blank">taking some time for myself</a> this year, but distancing myself from the role of on-call, stand-in "mom" has proven tricky. Since making the decision to take some "time off", I have been good - really, I have! I've spent my time soul-searching, re-evaluating, focusing on myself (or at least trying to learn how to do so), healing, tending to my medical issues, reading (lots and lots), rediscovering my own individual self, and letting bedrooms in my house stand empty. Like a cat lady determined to break a habit (at least temporarily), I have not taken in any more strays. I re-arranged and organized my "spare room", turning it at last into the personal library I had intended it to be many years ago when we first moved into this house. I spent some money on myself (gasp!), bought some clothes and colored my hair and got my eyebrows waxed. I started riding a bicycle, getting some exercise, taking my newly-purchased bright coral book-bag / satchel on little adventures of my own where I would find quiet and peaceful little spots to sit and read or write. I began to learn about gardening. I went on outings to museums. By myself. Free time, just for me. And I'd just started to get used to it.</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>But...</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Recently, my "semi-strays" gradually began to transform into actual "strays". If you don't already know, the kids I refer to as "my strays" are those whom I have taken into my home over the years, but of whom I have not had any official or formal custody. A while back I jokingly coined the term "semi-strays" when referring to a slightly different group: They have homes and they don't live with me (in the sense that they don't - at least typically - sleep here), but they spend every waking hour at my house and I definitely serve as a mother figure to them. Most of them (all but one, actually) have no mother in their lives, primarily due to drug or alcohol problems on their moms' part. They live with single fathers, all of whom drink heavily and don't - if you'll forgive me for saying this - seem to know their head from a hole in the ground when it comes to raising their kids. The only one who does live with his mother has a <i>terrible </i>relationship with her in which every conversation of any nature seems to erupt into a shouting match, and his estranged father is dying of cancer.</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>So, those are my "semi-strays" in a nutshell, so to speak. As I was saying, though, lately the "semi" part of that title has become less and less applicable. Someone's kicked out of their house after an argument, and here they are. A young man brings home his homeless girlfriend, and then one night his dad gets drunk and throws them both out; there they appear at my door. And before I know it, like the old story of the frog in boiling water, I wake up one morning to realize that I'm out of clean bedding (gotta catch up on that laundry!), there is no empty and quiet space in the house for me to sit down with my coffee and a book, I have a mile-long to-do list (this girl needs feminine hygiene products, this boy needs help getting a copy of his birth certificate so he can look for a job...), and the stash of personal necessities that I used to keep stocked on hand (toothbrushes, new socks, etc.) has dwindled to an alarmingly low level (I had stopped adding to it because I didn't think it was necessary anymore). I look around me and I feel a sense of "flashback" to the "old days"; there was once an almost-two-year period of time when the house was so full that I slept on the sofa every night myself. I was perfectly content with my full house back then; it was inconvenient and difficult and stressful, but I felt a sense of purpose that made all those things okay. Now, though... I don't look around the house and feel that same thing. Now I just see it creeping up on me and I feel... Tired? Maybe a little resentful? Not at the kids, but at the parents. Why can't they take care of their own responsibilities? Why do they keep putting me in this position? Why does throwing their kids out of the house seem to be the only tool in their "parenting a teen" toolbox? I shake my head and grumble under my breath, doing my best not to let the kids detect the shift in my attitude.</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>My heart is not in this right now. I don't want it, not for the time being. I want <u>my</u> time. But it isn't their fault, these kids with nowhere to go. They aren't bad kids - they really aren't. I am so torn, so conflicted.</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I have no idea what I'm going to do, honestly. This blog is more of a diary, a journal, a place where I tell my stories and vent; it's not a manual, so I won't claim to have answers when I don't.</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Ah, what a spot I'm in... :-/</b></span>Salmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-793060521498152236.post-67086968210725878752013-04-10T17:43:00.000-07:002013-04-10T17:43:13.409-07:00A Spontaneous Rant...<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm posting this on the spur of the moment, as they say. I just needed a place to vent and rant, so here I came...</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My son just called a little while ago. He called to tell me that he had just finished his last test as a high school student. He's graduating now, and with a 4.0 GPA. I should be happy. I <i>was </i>happy. For a few minutes. And then something hit me out of the blue that I hadn't expected to feel, at least not on this level.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">See, my son attends one of those out-of-the-ordinary high schools, one of those where the students work on computers and progress at their own pace. That's why his graduation comes at such an odd time, just mid-day on a Wednesday, without much advance notice. At his school, when you're done - you're done. It's just like that. Snap, you're finished.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">He didn't always attend a school like this (not that there's anything wrong with the kind of school it is - there have been many benefits). He used to attend a regular high school - one with football games and "spirit weeks", school dances and social scenes and all that jazz. And the superintendent of the district for that high school was a woman who had been my best friend for 31 years.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My son is mentally ill. I haven't talked about that much here; I may have alluded to it, but honestly I don't remember. He only recently gave me permission to talk about it publicly, and I haven't done a blog post specifically about that issue yet. Some of you know about some of the <a href="http://www.freelance-mom.blogspot.com/2012/07/so-proud-of-my-son-update-on-jeff-one.html" target="_blank">other things he's been through in recent years</a>, but I haven't touched much on that being an added weight on his shoulders.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I just had to throw that bit of info in, because it's relevant to this story and why I'm feeling the way I do today.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I feel angry. Bitter and resentful and betrayed. It will pass, but I feel it right now and that's why I needed to vent.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Originally, my son attended the same high school that my daughter had attended, as had several of my "strays". It was a place I trusted, and it was run by a friend I trusted. She'd known Jeff (my son) since he was born - obviously, since we'd been friends for 31 years. She knew he had issues. She learned of them, basically, just as I learned of them. It all developed over time, as discovering mental illness will, and she'd been there every step of the way. She knew my son well, and by the time he reached high school, she knew of his worsening fragility. She encouraged me to entrust him to her school; they'd take care of him there, she said. They'd look out for him. She'd look out for him. He'd be safe there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">That was all well and good until she promoted a certain man to the position of principal. I was on the school board at the time, had been for about five years, and this certain man was someone with whom I took issue. His ethics were problematic for me. We'd sparred in board meetings, and when he became principal of the high school, he saw an opportunity to get back at me via my son. His harassment was subtle and slick, but my friend - the superintendent, his boss - she saw it. She knew. But here was the problem: This guy was getting a job done that she wanted to see done - he was weeding out the problematic students (technically illegally, but getting it done) and he was making the school fit the image she'd wanted, an image of a superior school filled with excellent students. This was accomplished by hassling parents and students who were in any way difficult or needed special attention, but this man was not going to let a pesky little thing like ethics get in his way. If he (or my friend, the super) wanted you out, you were out (I was actually asked NOT to attend an expulsion hearing once, being told, "I want this kid gone and I don't want you here to talk anyone out of it.") This left the school with just the students that were "wanted", and it gave the appearance of success.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I digress, sort of. The thing is, once this shift in attitude took place, my son became a target. And in December of 2010, my life and the life of my entire family changed forever when my son came home from school and put a gun to his own head. I had a SWAT team at my house that night. I don't want to tell the whole story right now, I just want to say that from that moment <i>everything</i> changed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And here is why I feel anger today: My son never got to go to a high school prom, never took a date to a homecoming dance, didn't get to engage in any high school socializing, and won't even have a yearbook. He lost most of a year to hospitalizations, and after that he had to be enrolled in an alternative style of school so that he could catch up. Today, although I am so proud of him (he actually graduated <i>early</i> after everything), the finality of it hit me. He will never get these years back. He started out high school as a football player and a national-award-winning cheerleader. He loved his school, and he especially loved cheer. He lost all that. No, it was stolen from him. To this day he refuses to even go to a store in the neighborhood of his old school, because the feeling of loss is too painful. He cannot look at the building. He rarely logs on to his own Facebook account because he can't bear to see all his old friends.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I realize this blog post has probably rambled and been all over the place. There's so much more to this story than I can get into now. I just needed to rant for a moment, and I appreciate anyone who's "listening".</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm proud of my son. Have I said that more than once? I am so proud of my son. He is an Eagle Scout, a pianist, a volunteer firefighter, a certified life guard who works at a Boy Scout summer camp and will be promoted this summer to working at the camp's medical facility. As I said, he's a 4.0 student. He is amazing. Amazing!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But I'm just hurt today at the unfairness of all he's been through. Life isn't fair. I know. Stuff happens. Everyone goes through bad things. But he's had more than his share, and the fact that so much of it could have been prevented, should have been prevented... I'm just going through this right now, that's all. I will be okay. He will be okay. We will all be fine. It's just this moment, this feeling I didn't expect.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Thanks for letting me get it off my chest.</span></div>
Salmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-793060521498152236.post-21782084313657979732013-04-03T15:50:00.001-07:002013-04-03T15:50:55.123-07:00The Year of the Oxygen Mask<span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I don't typically "do" New Year's resolutions, but this year I did. Why bring up my New Year's Resolution in April, you may wonder? Well, because my resolution has a lot to do with why I haven't posted anything here since last December. No, not the resolution itself - I didn't resolve to abandon my blog - but rather the fact that my resolution was something I thought I should talk about here, and at the same time I didn't know quite how to approach it.</span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">See, I resolved to spend this year taking care of <i>me</i>. Me, myself and I. But I don't want to give the impression that I am "quitting" this whatever-it-is-I-do, this sort of vague and unidentified job I have undertaken for the last couple of decades, where I fill in for the role of "mom" whenever a stand-in is required. No, it isn't that I am quitting that job, just that I'm taking... A reprieve? A respite? An opportunity that happens to present itself just now, this year, at a time when it just so happens that I need it. I need it for <i>me</i>, of course, but I also need it so that I can go back to taking care of <i>them</i>, and be better at it.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My daughter, now 23 years old (the eldest of my biological kids), moved out on her own a few months ago. My foster son - who won't speak to me right now (of course I still love him), but that's a whole 'nother story - is out of the house and working through his senior year of college. My original "strays" have all gotten their own apartments or houses, started careers or families or both. There is a new generation of "semi-strays" who do spend most of their days at my house and turn to me for mom-related services, but none of them <u>live</u> here full-time and none are in a position where I'm responsible for them. And my son, my youngest, will both graduate from high school AND turn 18 within this month.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thus, the opportunity for some "me time" presents itself, and it is an opportunity I must take. Years of taking kids to doctors but never taking myself to one culminated in my finding myself (predictably) a physical mess. The discovery of some of my own medical issues actually started a few years back, once I went to the doctor myself for the first time since the day my son was born over 15 years prior (yeah, I didn't even go to the follow-up appointment after his birth), and more problematic discoveries have been made since. It's time to take care of all that. Decades of making sure the kids had good breakfasts and lunches that were packed from home with care, but paying no attention to my own diet, left me unhealthy. Years of making sure every kid who came into my home had everything he or she needed, but not receiving any payment (no child support for my own kids and no money from other kids' parents, or from the state for my foster son - money which I refused, but again, that's another story) left me financially devastated. And all the drama - the drug problems and pregnancies, legal problems and emotional baggage, issues with schools, medical and mental illnesses - those things that came to me strapped to the proverbial backs of all these kids - they left me emotionally and psychologically drained. For about ten years I lived by a rule that I would not wear anything that cost more than a dollar, and of course after enough time, that left me looking like a homeless escapee from some institution. And my house... I won't even get started about my house. Suffice it to say that if something broke, it just didn't get fixed. It started to feel like the old Little House on the Prairie days around here, with me hanging laundry on the line and... Oh, I said I wasn't gonna get started about the house. Ha ha. Anyway, it's time to take care of all this, time to take care of me, because I can't possibly take care of any more of <u>them</u> until I do.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One of the things that I am working through as a part of this "taking care of 'me' time" process is the issue of what that even <i>means</i>. It's a very basic question, but more complex than I once would have thought. Some pieces of the puzzle are obvious: I have to address my medical problems, I have to get physically healthier, I have to repair things around the house, etc. Those are easy matters to identify. But beyond that it gets a bit hazy for me.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Plenty of times in my life someone-or-other has said to me, "You need to do something for <i>yourself</i> once in a while!" Or they've said, "You should take some time for <i>you</i>!" In the face of these well-intentioned suggestions I would usually smile and nod and sort-of-agree, but in my head there was always this thought: I don't know what that <i>means</i> for me; I don't even know what that would <i>look like</i>. Does it mean buying myself stuff? But I don't really <i>want </i>stuff. Doing more things that I enjoy? But being a mom <i>is </i>what I enjoy. I could think of little that I would actually want to do that didn't involve cooking someone's dinner or helping with homework, cheering one of the kids on at a game or watching them skate at the skate park, helping them plan for college or sitting up late at night discussing what they had learned that day. I <u>love</u> that stuff, and I could never think of things I would want to do that were "just for me". Even if I saw an amazing piece of art or read a great book, I would only find myself dying to share it with <i>them</i>. What would <u>I</u> like to do or have if there were no "them" around? I had no answer to that. But I was always able to push the question off to be re-considered at some non-specific point in the future, because there was always some more pressing matter at hand. Well, that non-specific future point has come. It's now. It's time to do some considering.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In any case, whatever direction this takes me, I'm thinking of 2013 as "The Year of the Oxygen Mask". All of you who have traveled with children, you know the rule on airplanes: If the cabin loses pressure, you're to put on your own oxygen mask first and then your child's. And that's because you won't be able to help your child if you're passed out from a lack of oxygen yourself. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that this concept applies to parenting in all sorts of ways. I can't live up to my best "mom potential" if I'm not healthy. I can't help them get their lives in order if my own is in chaos. I can't give them advice on living a happy life if I haven't found my own happiness. And more importantly, I can offer them no reason why they should listen to anything I say unless they are first convinced that I'm someone worth listening to. Who wants to turn for answers to someone who hasn't found their own?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, I'm going to be taking this blog in a different direction for a while. Two different directions, really: A bit backward and a bit forward. For my own theraputic purposes in writing about it, and also for the purpose of opening my life up to some external and objective examination (from you all), I will go back and share some stories of how I got to where and whom I am. And I'll also take you all along on my journey as I move forward. Maybe it'll be helpful to some other moms of grown kids out there.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Oh, and I'm sure I will throw in some current daily anecdotes from time to time with regard to the kids. I'm certain some things will come up in that arena. After all, I'm still "Mom". None of this means I'll stop being "Mom" to all my kids, even if they're older now, nor does it mean I'll simply ignore any kids I encounter who need a little help. It just means I will try not to move them into my house like a crazy cat lady who doesn't know her limits (no offense to the cat ladies, but you know what I mean).</span><br />
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<span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I've been working on this for a while, since New Year's, obviously. But from this point I'll start sharing more about what's happening with me. I hope you will all continue to stick around and share your thoughts and input. I'm looking forward to it. :)</span>Salmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-793060521498152236.post-43634125390478044052012-12-27T00:29:00.000-08:002012-12-27T00:29:36.641-08:00A Calm and Laid-Back Christmas :)<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I didn't do anything special for Christmas this year, which actually <i>is </i>something special at our house. There was no Christmas project like I've done in years <a href="http://www.freelance-mom.blogspot.com/2011_01_01_archive.html" target="_blank">past</a>, no pressure, no stress-inducing obligations. Since health issues have impacted my life and my daughter's life this year, and since my son has been in the habit of reminding me lately that this would be my last Christmas with him (my youngest) being a "kid" (he will be 18 in April), I decided this year's holiday should be low-key and just... nice. Relaxed. Just us and our close friends. I absolutely refused to let anything bother me. And it's a good thing I kept that attitude, because there were a couple of - ummm - bumps in the proverbial road. But nothing we can't all just laugh about later. See how much better it feels when you look at it all that way?</span><div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Christmas Eve went well. I'd wanted to get all of my decorations unpacked and out on display, but that didn't happen and I didn't let it bum me out. So far, so good! I'd also wanted my house to be cleaner than it was, but I did what I could and then said, "Aw, heck - these are our friends, they've all been here before, and they don't care if there's a stain on the carpet or some dust bunnies under the sofa." I wiped the lipstick off the milk jug (just kidding - I don't wear lipstick - hahaha) and just let things be. Got myself into the kitchen and started cooking, because that's what <i>really</i> matters. Goodies. ;)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If you follow my <a href="http://www.facebook.com/RummageRampage" target="_blank">Facebook</a> page, you may have seen the recipe for <a href="http://sugarcooking.blogspot.com/2010/07/pretzel-cookies-with-chocolate-peanut.html" target="_blank">Chocolate & Peanut Butter Pretzel Cookies</a> that I shared recently. Well, I made those; here they are, ready for the oven:</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">See all that salt on the tops of them? Yeah, that's too much. Just letting you all know. If you try these, go lighter on the salt than I did. This was my fault; instead of sprinkling it on like you're supposed to, I put the salt in the palm of my hand and pressed the cookie dough lightly into it. I did that because I couldn't get the salt to stick at all when I sprinkled it, but it any case, it was just too much.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here they are, all done and pretty:</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You can really see the over-salting in this pic, I think. But all we had to do was brush off the excess and then they were super yummy. I highly recommend giving these a try!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Also a little idea that I saw (and shared) on my <a href="http://www.facebook.com/RummageRampage" target="_blank">Facebook</a> page, really just a simple but clever thing, was to put veggie dips into hollowed-out peppers instead of bowls. I'm terrible about having the camera ready and taking pictures when I should, so I didn't get a shot of my little veggie platter while it was still pretty and no one had dug into it yet, but here it is mid-foodfest:</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Since I am, as I said, pretty bad about having the camera ready, I don't have a lot of photos of me and the kids being our festive selves. But here's a pic of my son being goofy. It's a <i>horrible</i> picture of me, but I'm willing to humiliate myself and show it for the sake of showing you all how charming and fun my little Jeff is. :)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Gawd, I have so many chins in that pic. But hey, a tree on your head makes up for everything, I say.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here's my good friend Kathy and her son Justin, just hanging out and having some laughs with us:</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yes, the tree hat-thing made its way around. :)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And that was that. A few friends, a few drinks (Kahlua comes in gingerbread flavor!) and some good food (I made cranberry-chili meatballs, jalapeno poppers, spinach dip, and my super-famous chicken-enchilada dip). Christmas Eve, done. And without a single stressful moment. Ahhh...</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, I thought things were going pretty smoothly, and I anticipated an easy Christmas morning. No last-minute stuff I forgot to do, no high-pressure or fancy-schmancy plans. Coffee ready to go the night before, requiring only that I flip the switch to "on" when I woke up, and a blissfully easy morning was ahead of me.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I did head straight for that coffee pot when I casually rolled out of bed at 10 a.m., feeling cool as a proverbial cucumber. Then, just as I passed by and saw it go down out of the corner of my still-sleepy eye, this happened:</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I heard the glassy "thud" just as my head turned instinctively toward the suspicious movement I'd caught in a glance. And down it went. See that innocent-looking puppy dog there? Well, truth be told, she really <i>was </i>innocent. It was our beagle who did the deed. So, do you know what I did? Nothing. I just smiled and kept walking toward that coffee maker. I turned it on and then headed toward my office, just to check the news online while I calmly waited for the percolating to finish and for the aroma of pumpkin-spice coffee to waft through the house.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That's when I encountered this:</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I've cropped the photo to spare you the gore, but those are feathers (and the occasional beak piece or bird-toe) all over the floor. It seems our sweet little kitty cat, Tiny, had gone all Kill Bill during the night and had a fight-to-the-death with not one but <i>two</i> birds in my office. I had left the back door open the night before (this is Arizona - it's not that cold), and apparently she took this as an invitation to show off her ninja skills. Being less than entirely graceful in her massacre, she knocked absolutely <i>everything</i> off of my desk and every other available surface in the room. Then she proceeded, as far as I could tell, to spread her own kitty-cat version of holiday cheer (i.e. bird bits) from wall to wall and ceiling to floor. Meowy Christmas to me!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And once again, I did nothing. I looked over the crime scene, smiled to myself, left the room and determined to clean it up later (those birds weren't getting any deader). The evil forces of the universe were conspiring to stress me out, but I was having none of it! They would not win!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A couple of the neighborhood boys who frequently hang out at our house helped me straighten the tree back up, by the way. And only one ornament was broken. One! And it was one I'd never really liked, anyway. Take that, forces of the universe!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I got the kids up, my parents came over, and the gift-opening frenzy began. I didn't get any pictures of the frenzy itself (I told you I was bad about that), but here's the aftermath:</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I think that shot sufficiently shows that we had a generally good time. And I don't know why my daughter is staring at the door there in the corner, but she reminds me of that guy at the end of The Blair Witch Project. Nevermind. Lol.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Next we were off to the movies. We'd never done that before - gone to the movies on Christmas. I know some people do it, but we always had some big, stressful plans to keep up with. Not this year. We all went together to see Les Miserables (awesome) and chow down on popcorn in-between sobs. (Yeah, it's a tear-jerker, but if you know Les Miz, you know that already.)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anne Hathaway is amazing, by the way.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then we headed back to the house to quickly warm up our respective dishes (my daughter made her potato casserole, and I made my almost-as-famous-as-the-chicken-enchilada-dip pineapple-cranberry upside-down cake), and we were off to my parents' house for dinner.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We had prime rib, which was a first for our family's Christmas dinners. And asparagus with Hollandaise sauce. And some kind of high-falutin' mushrooms that my dad said took him nine hours to cook (I don't know what they were called, but they were worth the time). And my parents were nice to me, which is unusual (that's a whole 'nother blog post, which I'll probably never do). Everyone was in a good mood, nothing went wrong, and if anything did, I ignored it. The evil, stress-inducing forces of the universe were foiled again.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After that I have no idea what everyone else did, because I crashed on the sofa. Hard.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And that, my friends, was that. Christmas as it should be, I believe.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And to all a good night. ;)</span></div>
Salmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-793060521498152236.post-23556012431386648702012-12-06T03:59:00.000-08:002012-12-06T03:59:12.302-08:00Disturbed<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There are a lot of reasons why I don't post here to my blog as often as I'd like. I get tied up with working and taking care of the kids and the pets... There's all that, but there are really two primary issues that tend to keep me "quiet" much of the time - issues that, when I first started blogging, I didn't realize were going to be such problems. The first one is the matter of discretion with regard to the kids in my life, deciding what I should or should not say or talk about. The second issue is really just not wanting to sound like a "Debbie Downer" too much of the time. Sometimes, and often for long stretches of time, things in my world can be so difficult that if I blogged about what was going on every day it would come across as depressing. And sometimes it <i>is</i> depressing. While I try to keep a positive outlook and "keep my chin up" as much as possible, the truth is that sometimes the crises are so intense and come at me so fast... And sometimes the happy stories I could post here are so few and far between... Well, sometimes it's just that way, and I don't know how open I should be here.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Anyway, this post is going to reach just a little bit into both of those areas: Talking about a young girl that I've never mentioned here (I was protecting her privacy while she lived with us, and I will still do that now) and talking about some rather ugly issues. I suppose the reason I feel like "talking" about her is to point out something I've come to realize, and that might surprise many people. Or maybe it won't - perhaps it is I who was more taken aback by this fact than others would be. I'm talking about the fact that there are some young people who truly don't <i>want</i> their lives to be better, who are so drawn to the harshness and suffering of life on the street that they would actually <i>rather</i> be homeless than be comfortable and cared for.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm not talking about kids who, in the immaturity of their youth, simply see the "street life" as glamorous, only looking at the perceived "benefits" (freedom to do as they please, living with no rules or constrictions, taking drugs and partying) and not yet having experienced the negative consequences that go along with such a lifestyle. I'm talking about a young girl - and she is surely not the first nor the last - who has experienced all the pain and difficulty of living on the streets, and yet she gravitates <i>toward</i> such a life in spite of any attempts to help her.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This girl - I will call her "Willow" here instead of using her real name - was sixteen years old when she lived in our home for a few months late last year and earlier this year. I had known her for a while before that, as she traveled in the same social circles as some of the other kids who spend a lot of time here. I remember it was Thanksgiving night when the kids and I came home from a family get-together and I found Willow sitting alone on our back patio (kids often come and go from my home via the back yard gate) with puffy red eyes, a few bruises, and wearing a hospital bracelet. There had been a fight at her family's Thanksgiving dinner and she'd ended up in the emergency room. Then she'd run away and parked herself on our back patio. We weren't home, so she waited.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I fed her. I made sure her mother knew where she was (although her mother wasn't concerned enough to even ask for an address, and my over-the-phone introduction as "Jeff's mom" was sufficient for her to trust me with her daughter). I made up the spare room bed with clean sheets. I took her to Walgreen's and got her a contact lens kit since she didn't have hers. I got a new toothbrush out of the stash I keep.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">For the next several months she stayed at our house, and I did everything I could to help her and to get through to her. But she would lie. And lie, and lie, and lie. Even when it was totally unnecessary. Even when I totally knew she was lying, and I'd give her every opportunity to come clean and she knew I wouldn't judge her. The lying I could deal with, though. I'd seen kids like that before. But then came the times when I caught her using my son's computer to post ads on Craigslist and exchange messages with men on adult sites. Offering herself in trade for things she didn't need, because I would provide them. And she would start fights with the other kids around the house, fights that were so unnecessary but she just insisted on having an environment that was chaotic. As if she couldn't stand it any other way. Then she'd cry and cry and cry that no one liked her. And I would try to talk to her, and she'd lie some more. Anything I offered - advice, suggestions - anything that would make her life easier and actually <i>solve</i> the problems she was constantly lamenting, she resisted. She didn't want them solved. I don't mean that in a snide or sarcastic way; it was clear that she truly didn't <i>want </i>anything to be better. I know there are teenage girls who thrive on drama, but I'd never seen anything this severe.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Some of the neighborhood boys came to me one afternoon and told me that Willow had just been arrested at a nearby convenience store for panhandling. Begging people to buy her food. But she <i>had</i> food, readily available at our house, as much as she wanted. I was baffled, and I said to the boys, "I don't understand. Why would she beg for food? There's food here!" They just shrugged. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The police released her to her mother that night, or perhaps it was the next morning, and she was right back at our house within a day. I tried to talk to her, tried to make sense of her actions or gain some insight, but she just denied she'd been panhandling at all. The police, the store clerks, everyone just falsely accused her, she said. Of course. I wouldn't have believed her story anyway (for all her practice, she was not a good liar), but the boys had witnessed her approaching people and begging, and they told me so.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I know it happens, but personally I'd never seen a kid so desperate for attention and love as this girl, and yet so unwilling to accept it when it was offered. It was as if she only wanted the attention if it was gained by negative behavior. All I could do was shake my head.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Then she stole $250 in cash from my son's drawer, and I had to draw the line. I had to make her leave. Interestingly, she didn't even ask me why when I told her to go. I simply said, "Willow, you've got to go." And she gathered her things in her arms and left.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She went to her boyfriend's house, which was in our neighborhood. I made sure her mother knew, not that it mattered to Mother-Of-The-Year. It was just one of those times in life where I had to accept that I can't help everyone, I certainly can't put my own family at risk for everyone, and even though I knew her mom wouldn't really live up to her responsibility, this girl was, in fact, her responsibility and not mine.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And that was that. I haven't heard from her since.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But then a couple of days ago my attention was brought to some videos that were... let's say "circulating". Videos of Willow, looking ragged and with dead eyes, with men clearly much older than her and smart enough not to let their faces be recorded. And then yesterday one of the boys told me that he'd seen her walking the streets downtown, in a very bad neighborhood nowhere near ours, "looking like she was working it". </span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I wish I was shocked. Instead I'm just disturbed, troubled, saddened. I'm no psychologist and I really have no insight as to why the Willows of the world are the way they are. I just know they are. And I wish it weren't so.</span>Salmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-793060521498152236.post-67434503227978058672012-10-09T01:02:00.001-07:002012-10-09T01:02:48.254-07:00"We Are a Funny Family"<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>My sense of humor has always been a coping mechanism for me, and it's gotten me through a lot. A <i>lot</i>. I know this is something I've passed on to my kids because they are, well, a funny bunch. You really do have to have a sense of humor to live in this house, I must say. The darker and sicker and more twisted the better, but if you haven't gotten in touch with that part of yourself, just give us at least something to work with and we'll help you get there. Ha ha!</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I used humor a lot in bringing up my own kids from the time they were young (new additions to the family just have to get used to me/us, as my two have had years to adjust), even in the area of discipline. When my daughter was a "tween" and she would need an attitude adjustment in public, for instance, I would threaten to sing John Denver songs at the top of my lungs. This would get her immediately into order because she <i>knew </i>I would do it. On rare occasions I had to actually make good on the threat. One time we were all in line for popcorn at a movie theater, and she just kept huffing and puffing about how long it was taking. Being a snot, frankly. As a warning, I began to hum the opening of "Rocky Mountain High", but she rolled her eyes at me and apparently didn't take me too seriously. So when she continued to grumble, I began - just a little quietly at first - "<i>He was born in the summer of his twenty-seventh year...</i>" Then something really awesome happened. The guy behind me in line joined in. Pretty soon a handful of us "oldies" in line were singing "Rocky Mountain High" together, and she was mortified into submission. :)</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>There was also a time when my son was being a bit... difficult? Mouthy, let's say. So, I headed down the hall toward his bedroom, and as I did so, I whispered to my foster son, "Tell him I'm heading for his room..." Before I knew it, my son was racing down the hall behind me, trying to catch up and get ahead of me. I was too fast, though, and I flashed through his door and slammed it shut behind me just in the nick of time. I locked the door, and then... I sat on his bed quietly for about five minutes while he stood outside pleading. I came out smiling and walked away, saying nothing. The poor kid spent about the next week going through every single thing in his room, trying to figure out <i>what</i> I had done or taken or messed with. It was driving him crazy. I finally let him know, thinking he'd suffered enough in that week, that I hadn't done a thing. Bahahaha!</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Back when my daughter first started high school, it just so happened that I was on the school board. This gave me some connections (poor kid). Well, backing up a little bit here in the story, there was this cookie jar I'd found at a yard sale, and Kristen (my daughter) hated it; it looked like a gingerbread girl, which I thought was cute, but she found "creepy". So, one night when she was sleeping, I set the cookie jar on the desk in her room, right where she'd be looking eye-to-eye with it when she woke up. The kid turned that one around on me, though, because when I woke up in the morning, it was on my night stand and it was <i>me </i>who was looking it in the eye. Ha! But I wasn't to be outdone. I stashed the cookie jar behind some clothes in her closet the next day, where it would startle her, which it did. Were we finished, though? Of course not. That night, there was the little gingerbread girl sitting in my office chair when I went in to get some work done.</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>So... The first day of school was approaching, and remember those connections I mentioned? Well, I made some calls. I found out in advance which locker Kristen would be assigned, and I even got her combination. Tee hee... On the first day of her freshmen year of high school, my daughter opened her locker to find that "creepy" gingerbread girl cookie jar staring her square in the face. When she called me on the phone, I answered already laughing! That one, I have to say, was priceless!</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Of course, when one doles it out - so to speak - for so many years, one has to be prepared for some payback when the little tots get older. A while back, this is what happened to me when I unwisely fell asleep on the sofa one afternoon:</b></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcs-6dNyOo3cRkcsHov9BBO-bGwYXrMCK4yBZxNKvfK_ged7HbJ3He8F9ycuD3TahAX5wNZ9RPvKphdo0ufC53TTuivPw072QtxfGfUUqGxClN6e3D3_eNPUynqxNR_mF4TYRHNoZM_qE/s1600/Don't+fall+asleep+on+the+couch.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcs-6dNyOo3cRkcsHov9BBO-bGwYXrMCK4yBZxNKvfK_ged7HbJ3He8F9ycuD3TahAX5wNZ9RPvKphdo0ufC53TTuivPw072QtxfGfUUqGxClN6e3D3_eNPUynqxNR_mF4TYRHNoZM_qE/s320/Don't+fall+asleep+on+the+couch.JPG" width="320" /></b></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>And this happened to my daughter at the hands of my beloved "stray" Kayla (who has the patience of a saint and can always pull off what you think she can't); those circles are the little felt dots you use on the inside of cabinet doors to keep them from slamming loudly:</b></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9fSB2z0VuGgzn6v3ZjqpbI2J2LpSldbNq4tO1QFX6UsOr5_wOBy-iKvT0qgwiWaWd0u6dZwXznahyphenhyphenbhvKwpkCBO2URtwQVo_l0lXcpC0WhfdCEVMibFgfobe_80V2TLrjFe2-wEknD5I/s1600/P1010009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9fSB2z0VuGgzn6v3ZjqpbI2J2LpSldbNq4tO1QFX6UsOr5_wOBy-iKvT0qgwiWaWd0u6dZwXznahyphenhyphenbhvKwpkCBO2URtwQVo_l0lXcpC0WhfdCEVMibFgfobe_80V2TLrjFe2-wEknD5I/s320/P1010009.JPG" width="320" /></b></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Speaking of Kayla, this is what she left for me one Easter when we were decorating eggs and I asked her to "leave a few eggs in the carton for me because I want to bake cookies":</b></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh53d2WZLjnUVwavF6LMJQGEkBAwJudq3CiGbEsOJU_RceR6Q_YqbpXMeOvbFk4x8bR3HAKkb387TEhj2c-5_8qf2s6lKSppEx4Ge-Sw_uyQkfGHojIv1bwKIDh8Fz12Uyfhyphenhyphen_Lnj6YOhY/s1600/18.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh53d2WZLjnUVwavF6LMJQGEkBAwJudq3CiGbEsOJU_RceR6Q_YqbpXMeOvbFk4x8bR3HAKkb387TEhj2c-5_8qf2s6lKSppEx4Ge-Sw_uyQkfGHojIv1bwKIDh8Fz12Uyfhyphenhyphen_Lnj6YOhY/s320/18.JPG" width="320" /></b></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Yeah, you may have to look at that for a minute...</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>So, I'll tell you why I was thinking of this tonight, our sense of humor and all. This morning I was heading down the hallway to go to the bathroom, and I caught a glimpse into my son's room. Every drawer was hanging open (this is a weird habit he has, leaving all his drawers open), and I laughed out loud. From the living room, he called out, "What's so funny?" I replied, "I just saw your room and it occurred to me that it always looks like you just got robbed." Ha ha. And then I headed into the bathroom, where I remained for all of about a minute and didn't hear a thing... When I emerged, I noticed that the two cabinet doors in our hallway were standing open. "Very funny, Jeff!" I shouted down the hall.</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Then I headed toward the living room, where I found that every single open-able thing was hanging open. All the cabinet doors in my buffet and in the shelving units by the TV, all the drawers in every end table and other piece of furniture, the coat closet door... Even the sliding drawer-thingy in the DVD player was standing open.</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I was already laughing, and then I headed into the kitchen. You guessed it. The oven, the breadbox, the dishwasher, every cupboard and drawer, all open. Suffice it to say that the kid covered the entire house - quietly and in less than a minute. I laughed until I literally cried. The apple, as they say, does not fall far from the tree. :)</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>And as we were chatting before he went to bed tonight, I brought up his little prank and chuckled again. That was a good one. And he said to me, grinning, "We are a funny family. Other things about us may be debated, but not that. We are one funny family."</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>As long as we can hang on to that, we'll get through whatever comes our way. :)</b></span>Salmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-793060521498152236.post-41210773640133702742012-07-03T08:47:00.001-07:002012-07-03T08:47:41.315-07:00So Proud Of My Son ~ An Update On Jeff One Year Later ~ And A Little About Heroes<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Okay, so it's been 14 months rather than exactly a year, but I haven't had a lot of time to post here. I set aside some time for it today because a mom's gotta brag. ;)</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Some of you may remember (for those of you who don't, <a href="http://www.freelance-mom.blogspot.com/2011/05/it-was-just-nice-calm-spring-afternoon.html">here's the story</a>) that last year my son, Jeff, was very badly burned in an accident on the day before his sixteenth birthday. This happened, as luck would have it, just a couple of weeks after he'd been released from an extended hospital stay due to a previous incident, so it was a <i>very</i> bad time for him and for all of us. I posted a couple of updates last year as he was healing (beautifully), but now that he's fully healed I wanted to just tell everyone what he's been up to since then... And brag a little because I'm so proud of him. :)</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>This is Jeff last year. I never got a very "good" photo of the most severely burned parts of his face in the burn unit because he didn't like me taking pictures. He was terribly afraid (as was I) that he was going to be permanently disfigured, and he wouldn't even allow mirrors, let alone cameras. Anyway, this was him:</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>And part of his arm (again, I never got pics of the worst of it):</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Now, on with the update/bragging: </b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>After being released and healing up well enough to go outside, Jeff hopped on his bicycle and rode to the fire station nearest to our home. He walked in, told them his story and said that he wanted to volunteer so he could help other people. Training he'd previously received as a Boy Scout was sufficient to qualify him to provide basic medical assistance. The firefighters had Jeff on a truck that very day. He immediately learned to handle dispatch and rode along on three emergency calls within the first couple of days of his volunteering. Now he wants to be a paramedic!</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Meanwhile, Jeff put his nose to the proverbial grindstone and got down to some hard work toward becoming an Eagle Scout. As of now, he has completed everything except his final project, which is in progress. He's temporarily put that on hold, though, because...</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Jeff's spending this summer working full-time at Camp Geronimo as a lifeguard and teaching swimming classes for the littler Scouts. I should probably mention, too, that Jeff attended Camp Geronimo last summer as a camper himself (on a full "campership" scholarship), <i>while still bandaged up and on pain medication</i>, and taught fire safety lessons to the kiddos. They took things a little more seriously after meeting him in person.</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Also last summer at a different camp, again </b></span><b style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>while still bandaged up and on pain medication</i>, Jeff pulled a 17-year-old boy larger than himself out of the Colorado River. The boy had fallen out of a raft while white-water rafting.</b><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Oh, and backing up a little bit... Last December, on the way to a leadership training course he was attending, Jeff happened to be the first person to encounter an injured man in the middle of a highway who had been thrown from his motorcycle in a hit-and-run car accident. Putting his training to work, Jeff tended to the man (who was in shock and unaware that he had multiple broken bones, some protruding from his shattered hand) until an ambulance arrived.</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Jeff also rescued a woman in the Grand Canyon who'd been thrown from a horse and had broken ribs. He signaled (using those signals they learn in Scouts) to a touring helicopter for assistance, made a sling for her out of his own clothing, and carried her to the rescue helicopter when it arrived.</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I could go on. I'm sure I'm forgetting things. He's a busy kid, a tough kid, a great kid, and a go-getter. As you might have ascertained by now, I'm really, really proud of him!</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>And this is Jeff now, just a few weeks ago, doing beautifully and with NO scars from his burns:</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>One last thing I'd like to add is that the lovely girl there in the photo with Jeff is Hayleigh Funk, his forever friend and my forever hero, because without Hayleigh there would quite literally be no Jeff. I can't stress enough how true this is. There was a time - and I won't go into too much detail because I haven't asked Jeff's permission to talk about it publicly - when Jeff himself was all alone and very near death. <i>Very </i>near death (it took five days in I.C.U. to stabilize him). It was Hayleigh who found him, and not by accident - she hunted him down with virtually no information on his whereabouts, no contact information for myself or any of his family, and with Jeff himself unconscious. She found him with mere moments to spare, and she saved his life.</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I am forever indebted, and forever proud to know them both.</b></span>Salmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-793060521498152236.post-87013151817703303322012-04-04T05:17:00.006-07:002012-04-26T12:27:27.742-07:00About Trust...<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-style: normal;"><b>My kids say I trust people too easily. And maybe they're right, but it isn't something I wish to change. At least not too much. Of course it's always a good idea to apply the wisdom you gain from years and experiences - I'm not indicating that I wish to be naively foolish - but I do not want to become a suspicious, jaded, distrusting person.</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>It would be true to say that because of my trusting nature we have had people steal from us, but not in any major kind of way. It would also be true that from time to time I, and my family, have been taken advantage of. But again, usually not to a huge extent, nor have I failed to put a stop to it once the matter was spotted, so I wouldn't say we've suffered greatly in that area. To anyone reading this who knows us personally there is one glaring exception to what I've just said, though, and that would be what happened with my foster son. Interestingly, however, the horrible things he did to us (and I'll grant they were, in fact, pretty horrible things) didn't occur until he was twenty-one years old and a long-established member of the family. But that is a story all its own that stand separate from everything else. It's a story I will write about when I'm ready (it'll be soon, I think). I'm not yet ready, though, and I don't want to wander off track here.</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>My point is that I am a trusting person but I'm not a fool about it, although my kids express some concern regarding my potential in that area. Basically, they worry about me. But I want to <i>stay</i> a trusting person, and I have my reasons.</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>And here they are:</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>First of all, I know that I, personally, can be trusted. I've worked very hard at that throughout my life, making it a priority to be a trustworthy person and stressing to my children the importance of integrity. Not that I'm perfect - far from it. Naturally I will sometimes fail, sometimes fall short of my own standards, sometimes let someone down. But I try very hard not to let that happen, and when it does, I own up to it, apologize, and try to learn how not to let it happen again.</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Now, I cannot possibly allow myself to believe that I am the only person in the world who values their integrity in this way. To tell myself such a thing would be not only illogical but supremely arrogant. There must be other trustworthy people. There must, I would think, be lots and lots of other trustworthy people. I cannot bring myself to think otherwise.</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Secondly, and this is the most important point on this topic for me, I certainly can't ask the young people I encounter to trust me if I trust no one myself. I'd be telling to do as I say but not as I do, I'd be telling them in a sense that I don't believe my own words, I'd be asking them to believe I am worthy of their trust while at the same time setting an example that says I don't believe the same of anyone else. I'd be a hypocrite.</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>So I am determined to remain a trusting person. Not a naive person - that's not the same thing - but a person who applies judgment, takes the risk, and then steps forward well aware of the possible costs. Will I be hurt again, as I sometimes have in the past? Probably. No, certainly. But I am not afraid of that; I am not afraid to experience let-downs and disappointments and painful feelings. I will not "protect" myself by putting up a barrier of guardedness and suspicion at the cost of being the person I wish to be.</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>No, when the time comes again - and it surely will - when someone breaks my trust of maybe even my heart, I will feel those feelings willingly and ride out the proverbial storm and come out the other side continuing to believe what I <i>must</i> believe... in order to believe in myself.</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>In the well-known and admirable words of Anne Frank, "Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart."</b></span></div>Salmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-793060521498152236.post-45026851092209176742012-03-18T22:55:00.003-07:002012-07-03T08:54:00.111-07:00When They Can't Go To Their Parents, They Go To Me<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 100%; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A couple of days ago a boy in our neighborhood ran over to our house in his pajamas, frightened and bleeding all over the place. He cuts himself. You know, a "cutter" as they call them, because he has some very serious emotional pain. This time he cut deeper than intended. Afraid to turn to his father (I don't believe his mother is involved in his life), he ran here. I closed this up for him:</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am glad that he knew I was available and knew where to go, but it saddens me so deeply that he doesn't feel he can go to his own family. See all those other scars on his arm? He is covered in them. Although he wears long sleeves and hides this issue from his friends and family, I have known about it for a while. I try very hard not to be pushy when talking to him, wanting him to feel he has someone he can trust who won't prod or judge. And I'm glad I have taken that approach; otherwise he might not have come here seeking help. I'd like to see him receive help from professionals for his emotional problems, of course, but I also know enough about his home situation to know that his father would not cooperate with anything like that. As a matter of fact, part of the reason this young man is afraid to open up to his father is because he would, in all likelihood, be thrown out of the house. See, his dad regards him as just generally too much trouble.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I suppose there isn't a lot more to say about this. I'm just sad that he doesn't have the nurturing environment he deserves at home, but I'm glad he knows I'm here. Hopefully I can find a way to be helpful to him in a deeper way, even in light of the obstacles that his circumstances present.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If you love your kids, and of course I hope you do, please make sure they feel comfortable and safe that they can come to you with their sadnesses and anything that's on their mind. It's just so important. :(</span></div>Salmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-793060521498152236.post-25805524864660592332012-03-12T14:15:00.002-07:002012-03-12T15:13:25.681-07:00I Almost Gave UpObviously I haven't posted anything here in months. I almost walked away from this blog, walked away from this whole "I'm everybody's mom" thing, ditched it all. Almost. I did, actually, put my online booth on vacation hold (meaning I temporarily closed it down, and as of this writing it's still closed) and basically crawl into a metaphorical hole for a while, just didn't talk to anyone any more than I had to. I couldn't deal with any more. That may sound weak - perhaps whiny? - but that's just the simplest way to put it. I had to sort of withdraw from the world for a while and take care of myself. I could not take any more.<div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; ">The approximately eighteen months between the summer of 2010 and the end of 2011 contained so much drama for this family, so many crises, that I couldn't even bring myself to talk about most of it. I mentioned a few things here, but I never like to feel like I'm posting all sorts of negative stuff, so I always try to keep some balance by posting positive things that are happening in my world as well. The trouble was that there were no positive things. A few small ones here and there, maybe, like when my daughter took me on a fun little road trip to Las Vegas. The truth was, though, that even on that trip I just grinned through tightly gritted teeth and tried to tell myself I was having a good time. It was work - actual effort - to keep up the appearance. The truth was that nothing could balance out all of the awful things that were happening, though, and a momentary escape here and there was the best I could hope for.</div><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; ">Actually, now that I look back, I recall that even that trip was mostly ruined by a barrage of phone calls from home as my world continued to crumble while I tried to get a tiny bit of reprieve. Ugh.</div><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; ">Anyway, things are better now. I am still recovering from it all, though, and I am allowing myself to "re-enter" life slowly. I've been through a lot. A LOT! It's all about baby steps, as they say.</div><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; ">I will write about the events of 2010/2011, and I will do it soon. For my own reasons, I have to do it soon. But for today, I will just update y'all on my <a href="http://www.freelance-mom.blogspot.com/2011/11/just-some-random-stuff-thats-going-on.html">daughter's car accident</a> (the most recent thing I'd blogged about).</div><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div>I'd said she wasn't seriously injured, but that turned out not to be true. She had some back pain, but we all thought it was just the standard back pain - you know, some soft tissue injuries and basically whiplash - that one would expect after being hit from behind. She was seeing a chiropractor, but while her neck was starting to feel fine, pain in her lower back was only getting progressively worse. The chiropractor suggested she get an MRI, but she couldn't afford it as she was uninsured. By the way, it did turn out that the at-fault driver had insurance, but they would only cover her expenses on a "reimbursement basis". Meaning, in reality, that she would have to come up with cash to pay for all treatment and they would reimburse her when it was all done. I mean ALL done. So, being a broke college student and with a mom (me) who didn't have a lot of cash, she really couldn't move forward. All she could do was hurt, and be frustrated knowing that there <i>was </i>insurance to take care of her, but she couldn't access it.</div><div><br /></div><div>By December her situation became dire. She worked retail, so the holiday season was her busiest time, and she was continually sent home from her job because she'd stand at the register and cry. By early January she had to quit her job, a job she'd had for four and a half years, a job they'd held for her when she went away for six months to work at Disneyland, a job she liked and was good at. She was very depressed over this.</div><div><br /></div><div>By the end of January she could no longer attend classes and had to drop out of college. Her pain was tremendous, but when I'd taken her to the emergency room they only suggested Ibuprofen. An x-ray didn't reveal anything serious, but they suggested (as her chiropractor had) that she get an MRI. We explained that she was uninsured, explained the "reimbursement coverage" situation she was in with the auto insurance company, and pleaded with them to do the MRI there at the hospital during her ER visit. They refused, told her to go get one herself, and insisted that there were places who would do this and third-party bill the responsible auto insurance company. I told them we'd been unable to find any such places, asked again and again that they do it there, but all to no avail. They didn't even want to give her any pain medication and treated her, frankly, like some drug-seeker who was making things up. Only when I had a fit did they give her a few Percocet, grudgingly. We were sent on our way with no idea how to proceed. She was in tears. Honestly, by this period of time, she was <i>always </i>in tears. She'd just cry constantly from the pain. No one seemed to care.</div><div><br /></div><div>By early February pain that had been steadily creeping downward into her hips and legs made it nearly impossible for her to walk or even to sleep. Finally having scraped together enough cash for the new-patient fees at a doctor's office, I took her in and we asked them to give us the referral paperwork for an MRI (apparently you can't just get an MRI unless a doctor orders one, so we had to pay for that first). This doctor - sadly and disappointingly <i>my </i>doctor - also didn't appear to take her seriously. She did order the MRI, but refused to prescribe any pain medication at all. My daughter, who is intelligent and driven and works hard, was angry and offended at being treated like some kind of drug-seeker. She'd lost everything - her job, her college education, her social life, everything - and yet this didn't seem to be enough to convince anyone she was in severe pain.</div><div><br /></div><div>We scraped together more money and took her to another doctor, one recommended by someone on Craigslist, actually! This doctor took her more seriously, and also ordered an MRI from a place that was somewhat less expensive than the one my doctor had ordered. It took another week and tons of begging to get contributions from family members, but we finally got that MRI. It changed everyone's attitudes and facially expressions remarkably.</div><div><br /></div><div>On the same day as the MRI was done, we ran back to the doctor's office with the films. Suddenly everyone was compassionate, everyone was sorry, everyone was placing their hands on her shoulder and calling her "sweetheart". They tripled the dosage of pain medication they'd prescribed a week earlier and they referred her to a spinal surgeon, whom they wanted her to see immediately.</div><div><br /></div><div>More begging, more family members chipping in money. We got to the surgeon's office in less than a week. I don't remember all the terminology, but suffice it to say that her lower spine was torn up. Four discs were problematic, one was "just gone, there is no disc" (using the surgeon's exact words) and was herniated so badly that - again using his own words - they were "surprised you aren't peeing all over yourself". He ordered surgery within 36 hours, and the biggest scramble for cash was on. We turned to everyone, even cousins I hadn't seen since high school, and within those 36 hours we came up with nearly $11,000 to pay for the surgeon, the hospital and the anesthesiologist. She had the surgery and felt relief immediately. The surgeon, outside of my daughter's earshot, said that this thing he'd removed was one of the largest he'd ever seen and that he'd showed it (ewww) to everyone there in the OR that day.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's been two and a half weeks now and she is recovering beautifully. She still has physical therapy coming up that we still can't pay for, and our entire extended family is flat broke, so we'll have to find ways to deal with that. Her total out-of-pocket expenses now exceed $20,000 and the insurance company still won't talk to her until she's "all done".</div><div><br /></div><div>The important thing, though, is that she's better. So much better. She's almost giddy with joy at the relief she's finally feeling. And that, folks, is a mood-lifter for all of us around here!</div><div><br /></div><div>I guess it's time for me to crawl the rest of the way out of my hole and re-open my shop, though. Gotta sell!</div>Salmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-793060521498152236.post-68171624874916691682011-11-07T17:05:00.000-08:002011-11-07T17:42:33.926-08:00Just Some Random Stuff That's Going On<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Just a few notes of some things that are going on in my world...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span">My daughter was in a car accident recently and her car was totaled. The guy who hit her at 55 mph on the freeway and spun her car completely around to facing the opposite direction in traffic was driving with no insurance and a suspended license. Fortunately sh</span><span class="Apple-style-span">e c</span><span class="Apple-style-span">arries good insurance coverage herself, so everything will be taken care of. You can't see it in this photo, but the car was smashed in the front as </span><span class="Apple-style-span">well as the rear. She was very lucky, though, and was not seriously injured.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYxCA1VDLIgGjsImFQm_uTYRFnviAPGEknyvxRBnH79v6Ibueyt4Agle7sLfJv5RQu8VYn_3RlwHNa4FxcadRycle3TG1CYv7ucKJFyUSxTzUonLlHD1YJ3a5ykFmatUirzupNscSDRDo/s320/299852_2103748915172_1288967192_31900541_805328327_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672426061724152066" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >This situation has left our household short one car (it'll be replaced, but hasn't been quite yet) when we were already short a car, so managing everyone's transportation has been a challenge.</span></div><div><div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span">On a separate note, it turns out I have se</span><span class="Apple-style-span">vere arthritis in my lower spine and the degeneration has reached the point where a couple of nerves are being pinched. Not good. My right foot goes numb much of the time, and my left leg goes numb much more frequently. In addition, the pain in my right hip area is terrible. Pain med</span><span class="Apple-style-span">s upset my stomach, so I often get to choose between leg/back pain and vomiting. Most days I can't walk lately, and on ALL days I cannot put on my own socks and shoes. Fun times!</span></span></div><div><div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span">Because of these things that are happening, I may not be able to pull off my <a href="http://freelance-mom.blogspot.com/2011/10/starting-my-2011-holidays-project.html">"Black Friday" proj</a></span><a href="http://freelance-mom.blogspot.com/2011/10/starting-my-2011-holidays-project.html">ect</a><span class="Apple-style-span"> as planned, but I should still be able to do the Christmas stockings (theoretically, things should settle down by then). In any case, I'm not giving up just yet. I'll just see how things go within the next few days before I make any decisions.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span">On a lighter note, we hav</span><span class="Apple-style-span">e two cats that are mother and daughter, and the daughter is now about eight </span><span class="Apple-style-span">months old and close to the size of her mom. We've all been endlessly entertained by their antics lately. The two of them look very similar and are </span><i>absurdly</i><span class="Apple-style-span"> inseparable. They roll all over the house together in a constant blur of black and white fur, and you never see one without the other. Such a hoot!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><div><div><div></div></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE6ECdeyJfazAUCMOWrSVqcK8GZyo5ZMNWN2KkAIbaXUR8XY2cTVuR_Fi74O-06iTgWLNlas_3KgH9u4-iLwDwD5-ZCiUGOzDiar7TMJBnnYJIGBwxC7htKVj7N9O56Ze3D581SgwPpSg/s320/2d7zui8.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672430281237761234" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 191px; " /></div></div><div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Let's see... What else? Hmmm...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span">One of my now-grown strays, Jonah (who just turned 21) had previously been attending college but experienced some setbacks that forced him to drop out for a while. Naturally I was concerned that, as often happens, taking some time off from scho</span><span class="Apple-style-span">ol would turn into a permanent situation and he'd never finish. However, Jonah seems to have really put effort into pulling a lot of things together, as well as paying off some past-due tuition he owed, and he's now ready to return to ASU for the spring semester! Yay! :)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Here's Jonah on Halloween with his girlfriend, Victoria:</span></div><div><div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjNBh0mXwQFjItBMjxLdI8ciw8KRA5surdIGuBAdlb2PQmwwFOomFfliie6vgN7R4_Oy0UjzgebtUKkuf9J3cuCIZMoVLklyM2P7DzU2nIkPRZkhPm7B8YKJt4ZNlBJgMRDwygG000ubo/s320/302181_174182412669591_100002335013976_368410_1249860659_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672432707240470226" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></div></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Well, I know there must be other stuff going on, but I can't think of anything else terribly important at the moment. This will do for now. I promised myself I was going to blog more often, so I feel like I kept that promise today. :)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Until later, everyone have a great day!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div>Salmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-793060521498152236.post-72874171848470433272011-10-25T16:21:00.001-07:002011-12-05T20:09:44.221-08:00Starting My 2011 Holidays Project!<div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i>**Quick note: I went ahead and left this post up (I just feel weird about writing stuff and then deleting it - think it looks hinky), but I have actually canceled plans for both of my holiday projects. This isn't a sad thing, it's just that my family needs attention this holiday season and also there are two new young people added to our home, so it just wasn't feasible to add anything more to my plate. So, I have to take a year off of holiday projects, but it's for the best.</i></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div>This year I'm starting a little early on my annual project for the holidays (well, I guess it's not really that early, but it is for a "queen of the last minute" like myself - lol). Last year we filled <a href="http://freelance-mom.blogspot.com/2011_01_01_archive.html">Christmas stockings</a> for the homeless youth at the <a href="http://www.tumbleweed.org/">Tumbleweed</a> Drop-In Center, the year before that I did a <a href="http://freelance-mom.blogspot.com/2010/07/all-about-christmas-finally.html">Christmas Day dinner</a>, and before that the kids and I had done gift bags for the homeless. If you'd like to read about previous projects, just browse through my older posts here. ;)</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">If I can pull it off, I would actually like to do two projects this year. First of all, I'd like to do something on "Black Friday" (the day after Thanksgiving, for those of you not familiar with the term). I was thinking about that day, and how when my kids were little I used to be out there every year in the wee hours of the morning with all the crowds, hunting down the toys and loving every minute of it. I've always loved how "Black Friday" kind of jump-starts the season. This year I would like to use that day to jump-start the season in a different kind of way. Instead of starting the season right off the bat in a commercialized, shopping-mall kind of mind set... Why not start the season right off in the spirit of giving and sharing? You know, reminding ourselves right from the beginning of what the holidays are really all about?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">So for my first holiday project this year, I would like to throw a "Black Friday Party" that is not limited to homeless and at-risk youth, but rather open to anyone and everyone who is in need - whether that need is for food, tangible items, or just company and friendship. While we're all still basking in the glow of all that gratitude we expressed on Thanksgiving, let's keep in mind that the holiday season is not all about the mall. It's about people. Families, friends, communities. And this has been a rough, rough year for many people (myself and my family included), so let's start our holiday season off by remembering to stick together. Everyone has something to offer, whether it's a little extra food or a few kind and encouraging words.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">For the "Black Friday Party" I will probably select a public park since we have the good fortune in Arizona of nice weather in the fall. I don't have my job at the church anymore, so I don't have the access I used to have to those facilities (bummer), but a park should work nicely. Of course I will serve food, but I'd also like to give away gift bags to those in need - bags filled with items like toiletries, socks for the cold weather season, first-aid items, useful stuff like duct tape and toilet paper, etc. I would like to set up and exchange table - if you received something you don't need, put it down and pick up something you do need. Share, swap, trade, talk, get to know people, spread some cheer and encouragement to each other... That's the whole idea here.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">The second project I'd like to do this year is - again - Christmas stockings for the homeless youth. Exactly the same as we did last year, except this year I don't know if we will personalize them again or not (there were some complications with that, but I'm still thinking about it).</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">For both of these projects I'm going to need stuff, and I'm going to need volunteers to help out. If you'd like to contribute any items, we can use the following (I'll surely amend this list later):</span></div><div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Socks</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Toothbrushes</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Small-sized toiletry items (shampoo, toothpaste, etc.)</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Rolls of toilet paper</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Duct tape</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Bunjee cords</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Christmas stockings</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Batteries</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Chapsticks</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Band-aids</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Aspirin</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Knit caps</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Snack food items</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Pens</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Dental floss</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Combs</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Breath mints</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Razors</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Feminine hygiene products</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Shoestrings</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Deodorant</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Rubber bands</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Gift cards</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Wet wipes</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Cough drops</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Matches / lighters</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Etc., etc., etc.</span></li></ul><div><span class="Apple-style-span">If you would like to contribute a dollar or five, you can do that here using PayPal: <a href="http://freelancemom.chipin.com/the-freelance-moms-2011-holiday-projects">Holiday Projects Chip-In</a>.</span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">If you'd like to help out or if you have questions, drop me an email at salmagundigeneral@yahoo.com.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I will keep posting updates as these projects move along. If you'd like to be involved, feel free to jump in at any time! The more, the merrier! And let me be the first to say to you this year... HAPPY HOLIDAYS! :)</span></div>Salmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-793060521498152236.post-71180832170443545312011-10-13T17:42:00.000-07:002011-10-13T17:45:23.938-07:00Getting Back To "Normal". Maybe?<div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I know I've been pretty silent on here for a while. There's been a lot going on (I've had some health issues come up, been being bounced from doctor to doctor), yet at the same time it's felt kind of like there's been nothing going on. That's because since the dramatic and upsetting exit of my foster son a few months ago, my kids have not wanted any new additions to the family. As a matter of fact, they haven't even wanted anyone really coming around at all. They were hurt, and they didn't want to share their mom with any more people.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Thus, my once bustling and busy house became silent and dull, and I hated it. Two of my girls - my "strays" - who have been members of the family for years moved away, too. My Tiffany got married, had a baby and moved to North Carolina. My Kayla got engaged and left for California. So then the now-silent house became even more quiet, and it started to feel like a morgue around here to me. I could still do some volunteer work, take out clothes and food or reach out to kids in ways that didn't involve bringing them home (all as my health / pain level would permit), but coming back to the house was always a let-down. I didn't enjoy being here at home anymore. Especially since my kids are older now and very busy, which means that even though they didn't want to share me, they also weren't here at the house a lot. I found myself making dinners for no one, and eating alone most of the time. Eventually I gave up making dinners and went with frozen stuff, eaten by myself in a quiet house with a book. A far cry from what I've been accustomed to for decades. I was really bummed.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Then yesterday morning I went for a walk and I met Amber. Amber is 19 years old and homeless. Her father is in prison and her mother committed suicide when Amber was just twelve years old, and she doesn't have any real family. She told me that she did have her own apartment for a little while when she was of age to get one, but she lost her job and was soon on the streets again. She carries only a plastic grocery bag with her.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Amber was hungry, so we walked back to my house together and I cooked her breakfast (my kids were still asleep). Then she helped me pull some weeds and rake the yard while we chatted. The things I found most impressive about this young lady were her sweet demeanor and her amazingly positive attitude. While she had her own problems, I often found her looking for ways to encourage me. Really just a very kind and thoughtful person.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >While we were in the yard, my son woke up to get ready for school. He saw Amber outside and said to me, "Hey, I've seen that girl around. She's always in the dumpsters." I told him how she'd come over for breakfast and he went outside to introduce himself. They talked for a while as I did the dishes and watched out the window. He did not seem annoyed that I'd brought someone home. My daughter got up next and commented, "She seems nice." So far, so good. It didn't seem like the kids were bothered.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I offered Amber a shower, which she was really happy about, and gave her some clean clothes (I keep teen-appropriate clothing around and fortunately had her size). After that she was on her way. She did leave me a phone number, but her phone is turned off right now. I haven't seen her again, but that was only a day ago.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I do hope Amber will be back. For now, though, I'm just encouraged that my own kids seem to be coming back around. Perhaps some healing has started.</span></div>Salmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-793060521498152236.post-81418920334367754862011-08-29T03:10:00.000-07:002011-08-29T03:16:58.002-07:00Resource list for homeless youth<p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";color:#333333;background:#FEFDFA">This is a list of resources* that I've compiled over time and I regularly offer via online ads. I have decided to copy & paste it here, so that it can be accessed at any time by someone who needs the information. Please keep in mind that I live in the Phoenix, AZ area, and therefore some, but not all, of these resources are limited to the Phoenix area.</span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";color:#333333;background:#FEFDFA">*Please note that some info on this list may be outdated. I am currently working to update the list, but since I had not posted it for a while, I wanted to go ahead and put it up for now "as is" in case anyone is in need of these resources. Please feel free to bring to my attention any info here that is not currently accurate. Thanks!</span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(254, 253, 250); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "> <span class="apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; ">---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span>
<br />
<br /></span><span class="apple-style-span"><b><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"; color:#333333;background:#FEFDFA">If you or someone you know is a homeless teen, or doesn’t have a steady place to stay (also known as “couch surfing”), or is in a bad home situation that they’re thinking of trying to escape, here are some resources and information that may be of help. These organizations/resources offer many more services than those I mention here, but I will tell you some of what I know they have to offer.</span></b></span><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"; color:#333333;background:#FEFDFA">
<br />
<br /><span class="apple-style-span"><b><u>Tumbleweed Center For Youth Development</u></b></span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">602-271-9904</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">24-hour crisis hotline: 602-841-5799</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">Toll-free: 1-866-SAFE703</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">www.tumbleweed.org</span>
<br />
<br /><span class="apple-style-span"><b>If you are in the Phoenix area, Tumbleweed is the first place I would recommend you call. They have been extremely helpful to many kids I’ve known.</b></span>
<br />
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Serves youth ages 11-22.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Emergency shelter.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Drop-in center.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Transitional living.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Counseling.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Tumbleweed will help you with any and all necessities, from a place to sleep to food and clothes, toiletries, literally anything you might need.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• They will help you get your GED. This includes helping you prepare for it, and they will pay for your test. I don’t know for certain that they still offer this, but they gave my foster son a $100 gift card just for passing his GED.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Tumbleweed has lots of great “incentive” type programs, such as helping you get a job and then giving you rewards (such as gift cards) for certain accomplishments like being on time for work every day, etc.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Bus passes if you are working or going to school, or looking for work, etc.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Tumbleweed has a lot to offer, so give them a call!</span>
<br />
<br /><span class="apple-style-span"><b><u>National Runaway Switchboard</u></b></span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">1-800-621-4000</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">www.1800runaway.org</span>
<br />
<br /></span><span class="apple-style-span"><b><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"; color:#333333;background:#FEFDFA">You do NOT have to actually be a “runaway” to get help from this organization.</span></b></span><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Arial","sans-serif";color:#333333;background: #FEFDFA">
<br />
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Anonymous, confidential & free crisis line 24/7.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Helps youth up to age 21.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Message relay & conference calls: They will deliver a message to your family for you and your parents can leave a message with them to pass along to you. If you give them a message for your parents, they will call them and deliver it. This is a very helpful service if you wish to let your parents know you’re okay, or have some other message to get to them, but do not wish to speak to them personally. Constructive messages only (in other words, they won’t call to tell your parents you hate them or curse them out for you). If you would like to talk to your family personally but feel that things won’t go well in the conversation, they will help you call them via conference call and stay on the line with you to help talk through things.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Referrals to drug rehab facilities, shelters, family counselors, etc.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Information regarding legal and medical issues.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• “Home Free” program: If you’d like to get home, but cannot afford it, they can provide a free Greyhound bus ticket. There are qualifications you must meet. For example, you must be between the ages of 12 and 20 and have had a missing person’s report filed on you. Up to age 18 you must be returning to a parent or legal guardian. If you’re age 19 or 20, they can get you a ticket to an independent living facility. There may be other rules as well, so please check with them.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Bulletin Board: On their web site, www1800runaway.org, they have a bulletin board where you can post questions and get answers. It is a wonderful place to start if you have internet access and you have questions about things like what age it is legal to leave home in different areas of the country, emancipation, legal issues, how to help a friend who is in a bad situation, etc. The bulletin board is really great, and I cannot stress that enough. Very, very helpful.</span>
<br />
<br /><span class="apple-style-span"><b><u>Covenant House</u></b></span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">Covenant House “Nine Line”: 1-800-999-9999</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">www.covenanthouse.org</span>
<br />
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Their motto: “Food, clothing, shelter for a night: given freely, with no questions asked, no strings attached, for any hurting, homeless youth who will knock on our door tonight.”</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Nineline hotline services available 24/7.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Urgent and primary medical care free of charge to homeless, runaway, and at-risk young people ages 21 and younger. Psychiatric services also.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• If there is not a Covenant House located in your city, the Nineline will help you with where to go. They also refer to family shelters if your entire family is homeless.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Provides shelters, help with employment, finding a place to live, etc.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Mother/Child program: Provides services to homeless pregnant women and young mothers with children. The purpose of the program is to provide long-term housing, health services, counseling, employment training and parenting skills workshops to young mothers so they and their children can look forward to a brighter, more stable future.</span>
<br />
<br /><span class="apple-style-span"><b><u>ChildHelp USA</u></b></span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">1-800-4ACHILD</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">www.childhelp.org</span>
<br />
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• If you believe you are being abused, ChildHelp is a good place to call and discuss it, and what your options are.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Does not provide immediate shelter.</span>
<br />
<br /><span class="apple-style-span"><b><u>HomeBase Youth Services</u></b></span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">602-254-7777 or 1-888-254-4297</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">www.hbys.org</span>
<br />
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Helps at-risk and homeless youth between the ages of 18-21.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Local to the Phoenix and Tempe area.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Very helpful, respectful, and non-confrontational (in other words, they will offer you help without pushing anything on you). No obligation, no questions asked.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• They have a Street Outreach Van that is stocked with food, clothing, water, hygiene supplies and sleeping bags.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Resource Program at the Dustin D. Wolfswinkel Center for Youth: Through the program youth receive basic needs, case management, and life-skills training. Resources available at the center include food, clothing, hygiene supplies, laundry and shower facilities, bus tickets, employment skills training, resume writing assistance, support for educational needs, mental health care, substance abuse intervention, case management, medical and dental care, and referrals to obtain overnight shelter and/or permanent housing (either at HomeBase or with an outside agency). Youth are able to earn points for their hard work and, in turn, use those points to obtain gift cards, extra bus tickets, and other prizes offered at the monthly barbecue that's held at the center.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Offers mental health and substance abuse services to the youth in all of its programs.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• Employment and education services: Employment skills training and educational assistance is available. They will also provide study guides for your G.E.D., and they will pay for your G.E.D.</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">• HomeBase Education Assistance Fund: Want to go to college, a trade school, or a vocational-training program? You can apply for a scholarship through this program.</span>
<br />
<br /><span class="apple-style-span"><b><u>Stand Up For Kids</u></b></span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">1-888-365-4KID</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">www.standupforkids.org</span>
<br />
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">Call this hotline and you will get a very friendly, very helpful person who will talk through your situation with you. They won’t judge, they won’t tell you what you have to do, they will just talk to you and find out what you need right now. Then they will help you get it. It’s that simple. They operate, as they say, “like a family”. Lots of resources from food and shelter to counseling, helping you plan your way, etc.</span>
<br />
<br /><span class="apple-style-span"><b><u>...and then there’s me...</u></b></span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">Cheri Mason</span>
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">Salmagundigeneral@yahoo.com</span>
<br />
<br /><span class="apple-style-span">I’m a mom, that’s all I am. I am not a trained social worker, an expert on anything, or a miracle worker. But... I’m pretty good at coming up with ideas, problem-solving, or just listening. I also happen to have been around the block a time or two, and I’ve seen just about everything, so you’re not going to shock me and I’m not going to judge you. If you don’t feel like you’re getting what you need from the above resources, or you feel like you’re a little lost and not sure how to ask for help or what questions to ask, or you’d just like the advice of a mom who doesn’t work for any official agency, contact me. I will do what I can, and I have found that there is almost always an answer that we can find together.</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>Salmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-793060521498152236.post-25816423938164422842011-08-14T09:20:00.001-07:002011-08-14T10:01:52.785-07:00Conundrum: When To Stop Sacrificing?I'm in a pickle here and I'm having a hard time figuring out what's the right thing to do. My 21-year-old foster son moved out four months ago, and since then I've been giving him his space. Which is what I assume he wants. It's a little difficult to figure out what he wants because he won't say, actually. So, the best I can do is make assumptions, and I've assumed he wanted me to keep my distance.<div>
<br /></div><div>Recently, within the last few days, I have tried to gently open the lines of communication with him. It has been very difficult. Whatever I say seems to come across the wrong way, and before I know it he is unhappy with me. I'm walking on eggshells with him because he absolutely will not tell me what he wants from me (Back off? Stay in touch? Give him some time? Never call him again?), and ironically enough, he says he doesn't like it that I'm walking on eggshells... Yeah, tough one there.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Fortunately for all involved, I am patient and I can wait until the time comes when he is willing to talk. However, I have some decisions to make in the near future that will impact him, so there are some things that need to be talked about. One of the most important ones is this: Do I take him as a dependent on my taxes?</div><div>
<br /></div><div>See, here's the deal: For years I have not been listing him as a dependent on my taxes, which of course is a sacrifice on my part financially, because if I do so it will interfere with his college financial aid. It's complicated, but basically unless he files independently he will have to go and get his biological parents' tax returns in order to file for the grant he receives. And the amount of their income will disqualify him for said grant. Upon the advice of his college financial aid office, the only way to go about this was for him to file independently and then provide a letter each year. I agreed to forego the tax deduction and this has been working for three years now.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>But now things have changed. Now he is gone, separated from the entire family (not just me), and really appearing to want nothing to do with any of us. He refuses to say why, refuses to give any answers, and leaves me in a position of not knowing whether I am supposed to grieve a loss here and move on, or wait out some mysterious issue until he's ready to speak. For all I know he will sit down with me someday and explain to me what was going on in his mind and we will patch things up, or else perhaps I will never hear from him again. Either result is as likely as the other.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Meanwhile, I need to file my taxes. I've put it off because I couldn't decide what to do. Other kids in the family are upset that I have continued to help him and make sacrifices for him (which I have), that I have spoiled him and never held him accountable or required anything of him (which is also probably true), and that I've allowed him to be manipulative (maybe true - my perspective is admittedly not clear enough to be sure). Frankly, he is acting like a huge self-centered jerk (gotta admit that) and everyone but me has had enough of it. And here I am with another sacrifice to make - foregoing that deduction once again on the taxes so he can stay in school.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>What makes this even more complicated is that he doesn't know this is an issue. He seems to have forgotten that I've been doing this for years, and if I decide that I am taking the deduction, I will need to contact him and let him know that he's got to talk to his financial aid office because he's not able to file as independent for this year. If I contact him and tell him this, I know it's going to come across as me being angry and vindictive. And THAT is counter-productive to my ultimate goal of patching up this relationship.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>I should probably mention this, too: When he left, he didn't just move out in some kind of planned, organized way. He got upset and left in a huff, leaving unfinished projects and half his things and messes to be cleaned up - all of which fell on the shoulders of myself and the other kids. He apparently just expected that everyone would go ahead and clean up after him, take care of his things until he retrieved them, etc. Naturally the other kids are very, very unhappy about all this. So, if I make another sacrifice at the expense of this family in order to benefit him... Well, it could get ugly.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Besides all that, there's the matter of what is just good parenting. He's behaved very selfishly and irresponsibly, and I'm not sure I should continue rewarding that. I may already have contributed to the problem we're dealing with now by my past "spoiling" of him. He seems, at almost twenty-two years old now, to believe that he does not have any personal responsibility for the impact he has on those around him. He seems to believe he doesn't owe anyone anything, not even an explanation. He seems to feel entitled to act in any way he pleases with no accountability for how that affects others. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>If I continue to make sacrifices for him, as much as I love him, I may be reinforcing these attitudes. If I don't make the sacrifices, he may lose out on his college education and also it may further damage our relationship since he'll interpret it as me being vindictive. Sigh...</div><div>
<br /></div><div>If anyone has any thoughts on this, I'd sure appreciate hearing them. :-/</div>Salmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-793060521498152236.post-11995661480143798552011-07-10T23:40:00.000-07:002011-07-11T00:56:03.276-07:00The Accidental Shoe Drive<span class="Apple-style-span" >Back in December, when I was working on the "<a href="http://freelance-mom.blogspot.com/2010/11/this-years-christmas-project-for.html">stockings project</a>" for the youth at <a href="http://www.tumbleweed.org">Tumbleweed</a>, I mentioned several times that I was wanting to do a shoe drive. I wanted to gather up shoes - new or "gently used" ones - for the youth. I'd wanted to do it around Christmas time, and then I'd wanted to do it maybe in February, and then I'd wanted to do it <i>at least</i> some time before the brutal Phoenix summer arrived. If you've been following along, though, you know that my world has gone just a little bit (understatement) haywire over the last seven months or so. So, although it was in the back of my mind all along, the shoe drive idea has been put on the back burner.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Sort of.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >A funny thing happened on the way to summer... Since I'd mentioned the idea for a shoe drive, talked about it a few times here and there and lamented about wanting to "get around to it", people started dropping off shoes at my house. "For whenever you get that started," they would say. Or, "Well, we knew you weren't ready to do that shoe drive thing just yet, but we were cleaning out our closets and didn't want to just throw these away..." This happened here and there, now and then, until I recently noticed that I have shoes lying around everywhere. I haven't even officially started the project - heck, I haven't even worked out <i>how</i> I'm going to do it - and already I have (I'm guessing here) between fifty and one hundred pair of shoes around here. And they are in the way. So I need to get moving on this. I mean I literally <i>need</i> to get moving on it, or else I need to just decide it isn't going to happen any time soon and go ahead and drop these shoes that I have off down at <a href="http://www.tumbleweed.org">Tumbleweed</a>.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Now, these shoes that I have - they still need to be gone through. They're in bags and boxes and I haven't even looked at most of them. I need to sort through them and pull out any that are not suitable for young people (I don't think most of these kids living in shelters are really looking for some sparkly, high-heeled old lady shoes), any that don't have mates (I don't know if there are any like this - just have to make sure), or any that are just downright worn out and don't have any life left in 'em. And honestly, some have been sitting in boxes so long here at my own house that they may be dusty and I might need to clean 'em up. So even as of now, even though I haven't officially started this project yet, there's work to be done.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >So that brings me to now. I'd like to get this thing going and I'd like to hear some thoughts from all of you out there. Ultimately, I would like to bring about 200 pair of shoes down to <a href="http://www.tumbleweed.org">Tumbleweed</a>, and I'd like to make sure that the whole range of sizes is covered. One thing I learned a couple of years ago when I did my <a href="http://freelance-mom.blogspot.com/2010/07/all-about-christmas-finally.html">first Christmas project</a> was that a lot of these young men are big guys, and it's hard for them to come across shoes in their particularly large sizes. So I will be looking for donations of shoes - new or used - and also I will be going out with my kids to thrift stores and yard sales in search of shoes in any sizes that don't appear in the donations. That's how I'd like this thing to end up. As far as how to reach these goals, here are some questions/thoughts that I'm asking for input on:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >1. How should I conduct this drive? Should I just ask people to bring shoes to my house, or should I perhaps go to local businesses and ask them if I can place a donation box at their locations?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >2. Should I offer the option of monetary donations to cover the cost of shoes that need to be purchased (any sizes that we don't receive)? Or should I offer the option of donating shoe store gift cards? Or is it just too off-putting to mention money at all, and in that case might I do better to simply ask for shoes and just pay for any needed additional shoes myself?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >3. How should I get the word out about this drive? I can post ads on Craigslist and here on my blog, but where else? Any ideas?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >4. Should I set an end date for the shoe drive at all? Or should I just say it's going on until we reach our goals?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >5. Does anyone have any other thoughts, ideas or input? Anything I haven't mentioned or maybe haven't thought of?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >So far this shoe drive is accidental (hence my title) - lol. Let's put our heads together and make it official, make it "on purpose"! Please share your thoughts here in comments, or feel free to drop me an e-mail at salmagundigeneral@yahoo.com!</span></div>Salmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-793060521498152236.post-6373457079947494002011-06-28T03:35:00.000-07:002011-06-28T03:51:19.587-07:00Just a Quickie - Another Update On Jeff<div>I just have time for a short little post, but I wanted to give everyone a quick update on Jeff and tell you all how wonderfully he is healing from his <a href="http://freelance-mom.blogspot.com/2011/05/it-was-just-nice-calm-spring-afternoon.html">burn accident</a>. He was trying to give me a silly look in this photo, but just look at that handsome face! No scarring at all!</div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIKi7Uu7ElsKrNlT_5yWk_cc3gWI5RIvijPZIRn1lnS8FJ3bTIl-V6LxTmLRvlC3d3xKUjpRD74ggwqCrV-GvX5Jl6FRRyNur2fFwCEM6IgWWrdKX6KuFARh9c4FGvt98ZVdhO_99BIic/s1600/IMAG0345.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 270px; height: 277px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIKi7Uu7ElsKrNlT_5yWk_cc3gWI5RIvijPZIRn1lnS8FJ3bTIl-V6LxTmLRvlC3d3xKUjpRD74ggwqCrV-GvX5Jl6FRRyNur2fFwCEM6IgWWrdKX6KuFARh9c4FGvt98ZVdhO_99BIic/s320/IMAG0345.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623218115672038514" /></a><br />It truly is amazing. If you'd seen his face in person (the <a href="http://freelance-mom.blogspot.com/2011/05/it-was-just-nice-calm-spring-afternoon.html">photos</a> I posted of him in the Burn Center never really did quite depict how bad it was) you wouldn't believe your eyes right now.<div><br /></div><div>Also, last week Jeff was actually able to go to summer camp! We really didn't think that was going to happen for him, but he was healing so well that we just bought him some "under-armor" to protect his arm and lots of sunscreen for the new skin on his face - and off he went. While he was there, he even pulled a 6' 1" teenager out of the Colorado River rapids (the kid had fallen out while white-water rafting) and carried a girl with a broken ankle down from the top of a building, then called paramedics! Two months ago I wouldn't have imagined any of this possible so soon. What a kid!</div><div><br /></div><div>He is still not fully healed (that will be about another 10 months) and he is being treated for a pretty severe case of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome, but he's in great hands with his doctors and his progress is astounding.</div><div><br /></div><div>Unfortunately I didn't get a very good picture of his arm and hand, so I will take some more and post those later. But for now... Just look at that face! :)</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >P.S.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I want to offer my deepest thanks to those who have supported Jeff with cards and gifts, and also helped with his care financially. You all have been a miracle. If you would like to help with his continued care, <a href="http://freelance-mom.blogspot.com/2011/06/chip-in-for-jeffs-care.html">please click here</a>. Do not feel obligated or pressured AT ALL! Thanks, everyone!<br /></span><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Salmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-793060521498152236.post-78964217425785943082011-06-26T02:45:00.000-07:002011-06-26T04:02:31.474-07:00Thrown For A LoopAs I type this, at 2:45 in the morning, I am angry. Enraged. Also confused, sad, discouraged and conflicted. I am shaking, I am teary-eyed, my stomach hurts and my heart is pounding. I've been thrown for a loop.<div><br /></div><div>Have you ever wondered what that actually means? I tried to check it out. It seems to be an idiom that is primarily used in the United States and rarely heard elsewhere, and I ran across a few vague statements that it may have origins in the sport of boxing. As far as where it came from, that was about the best I could figure out. What it means, though, according to en.Wiktionary.org (who seemed to offer the simplest and most on-point definition) is this: "to confuse or disorient, to throw off, to mix up." That does seem to sum it up. So yes, I've definitely been thrown for a loop. And it's been going on for some time now - I live constantly with the pounding heart, the feeling of lost bearings, the confusion. And it only gets worse as time goes by.</div><div><br /></div><div>So who did this? Who threw me for a loop (or two or three)? My foster son. The boy I took in as a teenager, loved and raised as my own, got off of drugs and out of a life of crime and into college. The young man who became not only part of our family, but a deeply integral part of it. So entrenched with our home, household and family that when he left a couple of months ago, we were all thrown for a loop. As were all of his friends, and my friends, and our friends' friends, and pretty much everyone who knew him.</div><div><br /></div><div>It wasn't just that he left, though. I've had kids grow up and leave. That's not earth-shattering news, especially since he was 21 years old by then. No, it was much more complicated than that. For context, let me explain that this young man, over the years, had become extremely close to our whole family (my father and my aunt even helped pay for items he needed for school, and he was included on the Christmas lists of even my more distant relatives). He sung our praises at every opportunity to everyone he knew. He regarded me as not only his "mom", but as his best friend and "the only person that I can talk to about absolutely anything". He credited me for having turned his life around and for being "the person who has influenced [him] most in [his] life". These sorts of statements had been coming out of his mouth for years, and continued even as close as two weeks before he left. To be even more specific, three weeks before he left he approached me and pointed out that he believed I needed more "support", as my son had been in and out of hospitals for months and I was beside myself with strain. He said he wanted to be the one to help - he wanted to take me on nature hikes and to museums, expressing that he thought I needed to get out more. He said he wanted to be a friend to me when I needed one, he said that he thought I had too much on my plate, and he wanted to help. He asked me if I would please trust him. He was a grown-up now. He could be my friend. That's what he wanted, he said.</div><div><br /></div><div>And then, within a matter of days, something happened. I do not know what it was and I may never know. I only know that he started making comments that he wished to move out of the house. I argued with him gently, being concerned that he would not be able to finish school (he was, at that point, at the end of his sophomore year at Arizona State University). But then he took things a step further and told me that he not only wanted to move out, but he wanted nothing to do with this family any more. He actually said that he would rather live in a car than in this house. He told me, "This family is not the center of my life anymore. This family isn't even close to the center of my life. This family is a tiny, little side issue in my life." We just weren't important to him anymore, he said. I was, of course, stunned. I pressed for an explanation - anything that would make some sense of what was happening with him - and I got none. He simply stated that he had "changed his mind" and I should just "deal with that" and gave very vague responses to any questions. When I pressed, he became angry. I'd never seen him angry at me, not ever. I was shocked, couldn't believe what I was seeing and hearing. When I finally pressed him enough on the issue, just trying to understand, he grew very angry and stormed out of our house with no explanation, no apology, no "thank you very much for taking care of me for five years", nothing.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I cried for days. On Easter, which came just after he left, I did not get out of bed and join my family. On Mother's Day I stayed in bed as well. I could not face family events without this person who I consider my son - at least without him and lacking any understanding of why.</div><div><br /></div><div>Okay, enough context.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, I didn't hear from him at all for a while, and then over the last couple of months there have been occasional encounters (although I have not seen him in person). A few text messages, an e-mail, a few phone conversations. Never, though, an apology or even a gentler tone of voice. No, quite the opposite in fact. With each communication he becomes angrier, more rude and demanding, more disrespectful. It has reached the point where it seems he is literally going out of his way to be hateful to us and hurt our feelings. The whole family - thrown for a loop. A series of loops, actually, because each new contact feels like a brand new punch in the gut. Each time I don't think it's possible - I think I will hear my old son and buddy on the phone - and then I am subjected to shouting and cursing and rudeness and blatant disrespect. What follows is that gut-churning, surreal, this-can't-be-happening feeling that hurts every bit as much as a sucker punch. Even worse is when I meet up with cold, cold indifference. "I don't care about you anymore. Sorry." Said as flatly as if he were telling me that the freeway is closed this morning, too bad.</div><div><br /></div><div>Don't think that I tolerate being mistreated. No, I end those phone calls when he gets that way and I don't answer rude text messages and I've e-mailed him - just in case he didn't "get it" - that I will not tolerate being spoken to in that manner. I got no response to that and didn't hear from him for about a month. When I did, it was as hateful as ever. More so, actually.</div><div><br /></div><div>That last time that he was so rude to me and I ended the call, he did later apologize and say, "I'm just not myself right now." Whether he was referring to our current conversation or his behavior over the last few months, I didn't know and I didn't ask. But since he apologized, I helped him with the issue he'd called about. I sent him some things and I sent him some money.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now before you jump all over me for doing that, let me explain myself: I am trying as hard as I can to make it easier for him to come back and apologize whenever he pulls his head out of his proverbial backside. I realize this could be years, but I am a patient person. My approach is this: I will not respond to disrespect, but I will reward even the smallest "progress" or "good behavior" (i.e. an apology) because I do not want him to dig his own hole so deep that he burns this bridge entirely. I guess I am protecting him from himself in a sense, but I have been living with the hope that one day he would come to his senses, and when that day comes, I don't want him to think his relationship with me is beyond repair. So, when he behaves like a respectful son, I respond by behaving like a mom. The message? "I am your mom and I love you unconditionally, even though I'm hurt and angry. In that light, while I won't accept disrespect, I will be there for you when you're ready to behave appropriately." I hope that makes sense to y'all. I could expand upon it and clarify further, but I'm not trying to write <i>War and Peace </i>here.</div><div><br /></div><div>So... Why am I so upset tonight? Because once again he's reared his ugly attitude and it just seems to get worse and worse. My daughter saw him somewhere tonight, and his behavior toward her was childish and rude and deplorable. She was so shocked and taken aback by this stranger who was once part of her family that she had to step outside and call me on the phone. She was in tears. I offered to come and get her, but she declined.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now as I sit here, I am struggling. Struggling with my anger toward him while I still love him as a son, and with the conflict that comes with those competing emotions. Furious that he would treat my daughter this way. Gritting my teeth and tightening my jaw and clamping down with my teeth on that last thread of the belief I hold in loving our children unconditionally, biological children or not. Wondering who this person is, where the boy I raised into adulthood is hiding, or if he exists at all and whether this stranger has taken his place. Struggling to understand how that can happen. Frustrated at having pieces of information with which to try and put this puzzle together - information that could only come from him, and he won't share.</div><div><br /></div><div>Prior to these events I had never gone more than 48 hours without seeing him in the five years he lived in our home. Even those times were only when he took a weekend to go visit his grandmother in Mexico, and even on those trips he would call me at least once - of not twice - every day. And now I have not seen him in months, don't even know where he is or where he sleeps. And as far as I am concerned, I haven't spoken to him at all. I've spoken to the pod person who now seems to occupy his body and speak with his mouth, but after the events when things went downhill I would say I've never spoken to my actual son again.</div><div><br /></div><div>I hope he's not gone. I hope this new person isn't who he is. I hope, I hope, I hope. I cannot wrap my brain around it. And so tonight, as yet one more incident has occurred where he has shown himself to now be a hateful, selfish and unkind person, the struggle becomes harder. I have never, ever turned my back on one of my kids, cut them out of my life, dis-owned them or any other such nonsense. This includes ALL my kids, not must my biological ones. I don't believe in that - or I didn't used to. I believe that family is always there for you, even when you screw up or behave badly. I believe that a mother loves unconditionally, even if she doesn't accept or tolerate bad behavior. And I have always believed very strongly that I need to model this especially well for the kids who come to me from families who could not be trusted. I always know they'll test me, and I always pass that test. You can trust me, I will be here always, I will not reject you no matter what.</div><div><br /></div><div>But this one... His tests (if that's what they are) are stretching me to limits I've never seen before. I love him so much that I'm heartbroken to see him going through <i>something</i> - whatever it is - and not be able to reach out to him. Yet I'm so angry at him that I feel I could scratch his eyes out. And so, when a new incident occurs, I shake and cry and pound my fists and clench my jaw and feel like utter confusion could cause me to jump right out of my skin. Then come the questions , the doubt. Am I really a good mom? Does this happen to a mom who has done the right things, or did I make some terrible mistake? Or, even worse, should I reconsider my very deepest beliefs about the human race - that people are worth helping, that there is good in everyone if we can just help them reach down and find it, that making sacrifices for the good of others is a worthwhile investment in the good of the human race. If this is what people are capable of, if this is common (I don't know - is it?), then is it all worth it?</div><div><br /></div><div>Thrown for a loop. And then another and another and another, each one making it harder and harder for me to hold firmly onto my belief in unconditional love for our children. I am clinging, really clinging. But stretched nearly to the breaking point.</div>Salmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-793060521498152236.post-6234302021363055812011-06-20T19:57:00.000-07:002011-06-20T20:04:28.120-07:00New "Chip-In" for JeffJust a quick note here to let you all know that we've set up a new "Chip-In" event for <a href="http://freelance-mom.blogspot.com/2011/05/update-on-my-son-hes-doing-great.html">Jeff's </a>ongoing care. The old event has expired and some have asked if they can still contribute - of course his needs are ongoing and will be for a while. So, the new "Chip-In" is located here: <a href="http://freelance-mom.blogspot.com/2011/06/chip-in-for-jeffs-care.html">New "Chip-In" for Jeff.</a><div><br /></div><div>Much thanks to everyone, and I will keep you updated on his progress!</div>Salmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-793060521498152236.post-32274223221696319662011-06-20T19:55:00.000-07:002011-06-20T19:56:33.832-07:00Chip-In for Jeff's care<object width="250" height="250"><param name="movie" value="http://widget.chipin.com/widget/id/541534b75b2dead8"></param><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><param name="event_title" value="Chip-In%20for%20Jeff%27s%20care"></param><param name="event_desc" value="See%20my%20blog%20for%20more%20info%20www.freelance-mom.blogspot.com"></param><param name="color_scheme" value="red"></param><embed src="http://widget.chipin.com/widget/id/541534b75b2dead8" flashVars="event_title=Chip-In%20for%20Jeff%27s%20care&event_desc=See%20my%20blog%20for%20more%20info%20www.freelance-mom.blogspot.com&color_scheme=red" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowScriptAccess="always" wmode="transparent" width="250" height="250"></embed></object>Salmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-793060521498152236.post-8869668364549275472011-06-11T17:48:00.000-07:002011-06-11T18:12:07.072-07:00Road Trip!<span class="Apple-style-span" >My awesome daughter was nice enough to drag my tired self out of the house this weekend and take me on a road trip to visit one of my other girls in Las Vegas (I'm typing from her kitchen right now). I loved driving up here with my daughter, who is 21 years old now, since it's been a while since I got to spend real time with her like that. There is just no one-on-one time that you get with someone that's quite like what you get with just two people in a car on a good, long drive.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span">We got here to Vegas last night, and after having my daughter to myself for several hours in the car, I then got to spen</span><span class="Apple-style-span">d a quiet evening with both my girls - Tiffany and Kristen - here in Tiffany's house. Since Tiffany grew up and got married and started her own family (darn her!), it's been rare that I can be in the presence of these two together - something I had MORE than enough of when they were growing up. Ha ha!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >My son, by the way, is with his grandparents this weekend. So this is a nice break for me from all the recent drama. Just me and the girls. :)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span">Here is a little pic of Tiffany and her baby t</span><span class="Apple-style-span">his morning - I will try to post some more pictures from our little trip later on.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >'Til then! :)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMWcg-aHDLnLjjViQZbCC2KXL7uanAAt7ABeVg0rVW5lTunaSSOtuhNHgw5FjbbsE-wpZnmPkWy-qesTLjIzpJaCX9P9kwk66C2sUu261Vpn8l_tjbATXIPZxnHax9BtScap__fL8B2Jo/s320/IMAG0261.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 191px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617134291112751298" /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div>Salmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-793060521498152236.post-82284089869217331162011-05-31T00:17:00.000-07:002011-05-31T01:05:52.011-07:00Update On My Son - He's Doing Great!It has been a month now since my son, Jeff, was badly <a href="http://freelance-mom.blogspot.com/2011/05/it-was-just-nice-calm-spring-afternoon.html">burned in an accident</a> while trying out his new barbecue grill. The support our family has received, especially from the <a href="http://www.bonanza.com/">Bonanza</a> community, but also from friends and total strangers, has been amazing. To all of you who have sent cards and treats and gifts and contributions to his <a href="http://freelance-mom.blogspot.com/2011/05/chip-in-for-jeffs-care.html">"Chip-In"</a> - I cannot begin to express my appreciation. I would like to provide you all with an update on how he's doing.<br /><div><br /></div><div>Jeff is healing at a mind-boggling pace; even the doctors are shocked at his recovery. At first they said there would need to be skin grafting (he had second and third degree burns), and then they were pleasantly surprised to find that would not be necessary. Such a relief! Then they said they were optimistic that scarring would be minimal. Now we are all thrilled to have learned that the burns may actually leave no scars at all. Absolutely amazing! He does still have the potential for scars if he damages his vulnerable, brand-new skin. For instance, about a week ago he had a little itch on his cheek and, just out of habit and without even thinking about it, he reached up and lightly scratched it. When he did so, a bit of his skin came off of his face and it started to bleed. He learned that he has to be very careful with this new skin!</div><div><br /></div><div>Bandages are not necessary most of the time at this point. His does still bandage up his arm and hand when he goes out into a crowded public place, just to protect them from possible accidents, being bumped into, etc. Other than that, though, he can leave his skin uncovered, although he cannot be in the sun and has to wear very strong sunblock if he goes out at all, even if it's just in the car to go to a doctor's appointment or something. We've been warned that this new skin can burn in as little as nine seconds!</div><div><br /></div><div>Jeff is still being treated for the conditions he had prior to the accident, and unfortunately his tremors seem to be returning, so we still have to get to the bottom of that (the tremors become seizures, and had him hospitalized for a week back in November). He's also being treated for Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome due to the burn incident (he has flashbacks and hears the "whooshing" sound of being engulfed in flames). So, there is obviously quite a way to go, but he is a trooper and I have great confidence that he will get through all of this. The boy was meant for great things - I just know this!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Here's Jeff's hand one month ago, and then today:</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ1pwMPYZ5zz639TJqJzAF3g_AXc2lI6Pstw_vcJrfl2hKGe471L5TQrTOZxtXG4hJUsGjeQMlCPS0jbWrwvoW0ci4xF25ezzmaNjv7vgXCchjtTmYricd-M7lPsCE3JzkLIIauvfrHt8/s320/Jeff%2527s+burned+forearm.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612781659841918626" /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3zYABFWOi_4NgHSeZSkXH6F90I3_saF2cCb96ZFgznvciqQW1Yq3sVI_eKgHmP8V6Wpmu8FCiLkh9_Vom5l6l82OJs2u12PaY0zQIg-MeSlfR6ViEs_Pc1mUg8DK_XNsM4ejtkiKTq5k/s320/IMAG0196.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 192px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612782012913696818" /><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: left;">Amazing, isn't it? You can still see what looks kind of like a red "shadow" where the new skin has grown over the damaged areas (my photo doesn't really show it well enough, but no one's ever accused me of being a great photographer), but no skin grafts and no scars. I'm so happy about that! Here's a kind of creepy-but-Jeff-thinks-it's-funny fact: When he moves his fingers, that skin is so thin that you can see the movement of the muscles (or whatever) underneath it. Jeff finds this ridiculously entertaining.</div></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Here is his face, then and now:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3fzBrvufeTliQQGh3Ajgn8nTh_OzMbBJDCe64dvfJJblpB7J4tT0bBSTDEQiYzUcGxMwhFT3Iw-QOa03qn91c8E3Xr3eTOgO6sex1d0h069kfD3SOHAcESij-_8pA0hap9oNmZZWcSaI/s320/Jeff%2527s+burned+face+in+hospital.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 191px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612783149299964290" /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjicunTLJrxyejFQ_r1n1YiJfFhkzuxCbDYlLlrYuAjELsYjCaqf1kgqLv1Y0kJrYj8TDwbVF2eYcP_awmk-3ozn0r_7NC_NbZKLTlyEF826FGvKFext2HHsSN7ZBWMzX8adH2C_-3W7Pw/s320/IMAG0197.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 191px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612783644572305922" /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Again, my photos aren't great at showing what I wanted them to. But if you look at his cheek you can see that little red spot - kind of looks like a pimple. That's where he scratched it. The spot was a bit bigger, but it's healing well just like the rest of him. The only places that really still show some scabbing and remnants of the burn are the tip of his nose, the edge of his upper lip, his neck just below and behind his ear, and his earlobe. Also, as you can see, he hasn't shaved. He's too scared of an accident with that sensitive skin!</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM8VsRI6scLTkDEudXSaVoPSKCL2r0GKKCxuapqO5kgLMloNc5mvzuUFgnVOCV9NG2RrpMMTWoLLKW6Qf6xQ76O9nJkvG-rUJbqG7OFt_9DjbdnBLkGhnJFveVrani9ANdaVqdWNxORtY/s320/IMAG0198.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 191px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612784813317124898" /></div><div><br /></div><div>By the way, that beautiful turquoise necklace you see him wearing was a gift from <a href="http://www.Bonanza.com">Bonanza</a> seller <a href="http://www.bonanza.com/booths/montrose">Montrose</a>. It came in the mail one day with a card that promised it would protect him. He has worn it every day since he received it, and... So far nothing bad has happened! Maybe there's something to that protection! :)</div><div><br /></div><div>Again, thank you to everyone who has been so supportive throughout all of this. In addition to all the ways you've all been helpful, it has also kept Jeff's spirits up and I believe that helps even in the physical healing. Much, much gratitude to all of you!</div><div><br /></div><div>That's about it for tonight. I will post updates from time to time and let you all know how things are going for Jeff. For now, I'm just happy to say that all the news is good! :)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Salmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-793060521498152236.post-58679040426269236172011-05-24T03:47:00.000-07:002011-05-24T03:48:17.921-07:00If you are visiting to read about my son...If you are visiting for info on Jeff, click <a href="http://freelance-mom.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-need-help-so-im-asking.html">here</a>.<div><br /></div><div>To go directly to the Chip-In page, click <a href="http://freelance-mom.blogspot.com/2011/05/chip-in-for-jeffs-care.html">here</a>.</div>Salmagundihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07974014482366705587noreply@blogger.com0