Moving...

I am going to be posting on a new page from now on. You can find me at:


http://striving-to-be.blogspot.com/

An interesting thing happened on my way home from Pennsylvania...

I was somewhat upset over the fact that I felt my friends did not recognize me for who I have become – so very different from the angry, aggressive girl I was in college. A fact I was hard pressed to prove after having an argument with my husband minutes after insisting I was not confrontational.

A little history: I met Beth and Jaime (roommates) on my first day of college. I lived on one end of the hall and they lived on the other. We met during our first hall meeting. Sitting on the floor in the hallway I perked up when Beth said she was from Long Island and then Jaime said New Jersey. Kindred spirits based on geography. I spent a lot of time in their room talking, listening to music, hanging out, avoiding my roommate. It has been 12 years since that first day of college. Twelve years since the year we spent supporting each other through break-ups, crushes, hang overs, freak outs, studying crises, parties, disappointments, milestones. The most incongruous part of our friendship is that we only spent that one year together. The next year Beth went to a different school, Jaime was paired with a random girl as a roommate, I moved out of the dorms and shortly after dropped out and moved back home.

Nancy and I had a little less history at first. She started out as Beth’s friend. I spent that whole first year being completely intimidated by her. She was always so cool and well…together. Something I so wasn’t. She and I made a better connection when she moved to NC and we started spending time together. I hate that I missed out on that first year when we were at school but things worked out anyway.

So here I am driving home 12 years later from my girlie weekend with the only girls who have ever consistently been my friends. I spent part of the drive wondering why they couldn’t see how different I was. Then somewhere between West Virginia and Virginia I fell into that fugue state of driving – completely aware of the road and the car but my mind flying back behind me somewhere far in the past. I could spend all day writing about the things I remembered with Jaime and Beth – falling into each other with relief after making it home from the Dancehall Crashers show in Philly in the snow; convincing Jaime not to steal the apple from random old guy Bill’s house; driving home for Thanksgiving (or maybe it was Christmas) with Beth, her dad, and her brother hung over beyond reason… So many things I hadn’t thought about in years. It was then I realized I wasn’t the only way who had changed and maybe they weren’t the only ones not recognizing those changes. These girls have always fulfilled the things I needed at any point in my life. Even now I can go to Jaime when I feel especially crazy and she will always make me feel better, I can call Nancy when I am concerned about Cecilia’s behavior and she will calm me down, Beth is the one I can always turn to when I need a more laid back spin on things. I don’t think I needed an eight hour drive to remind me that I am lucky to have these girls in my life. I already knew that. I think I needed that eight hours of distance to remind me how important it is to not worry how I am being viewed and bask in the fact that I have three people (and by extension of marriage maybe even three more) who love me and care about me just because.

Giving Thanks

From Wikipedia: Thanksgiving, or Thanksgiving Day, is a traditional North American holiday to give thanks for the things that one has at the conclusion of the harvest season.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I think I posted last year the reasons why. The biggest one being that I love thinking about all that I have to be thankful for and finding out from other people what they are thankful for. This year, we were all together for Thanksgiving at my mom and dad’s house. Unfortunately, my in-laws did not join us until dessert but it was still an awesome day. I don’t have the big group picture yet (it is an unbelievable picture) so I should probably clarify what all together means so here is the guest list:
Mom
Dad
Dianna – sister
Rob – brother-in-law
Kathy – Dianna’s mother-in-law
Bobby – Dianna’s father-in-law
Michael – Rob’s brother
Shelly – Michael’s girlfriend
Jim – brother
Sandra – sister-in-law
Jake – nephew
Felicia – Jim’s mother-in-law
Juan – Sandra’s brother
Keith – husband
Cecilia – daughter
Sophia – daughter
Joanne – mother-in-law
Ernie – father-in-law
Kyle – brother-in-law
Kristin – sister-in-law
Norbert – co-worker of Ernie’s
Jeanne – Dianna’s friend
Andy – Jeanne’s husband
Abby – Jeanne’s daughter
Ella – Jeanne’s daughter


There was lots of food and drink. It was loud and possibly even slightly rowdy (to some at least). It was wonderful. I always try to quietly look into a room and “catch” people getting along. It makes me so happy to see my mom and mother-in-law holding hands huddled close talking, my two brothers-in-law talking business, my sister-in-law swinging Sophia into the air, my sister engrossed in a conversation with our sister-in-law’s mother, my brother’s brother-in-law and my husband playing that stupid Guitar Heros game in the living room, Cecilia showing off her gameboy to my brother-in-law’s brother. Having had a pretty rough week before Thanksgiving and spending a lot of time questioning God (I will share that in another post) I think, “This is what it is all about.” Here we are 20 some odd people, different and similar, linked by so many different relationships making one day the single best day of the year (at least for me personally). We all have one thing in common, despite everything, we love each other if not for the individual we are then for the individual who loves us. This day will nourish me for a long time.

Quick Update

I am supposed to be doing laundry and cooking/preparing for Thanksgiving Day. I got on the computer to quickly look at something my friend Laura recommended and got caught up in Nancy's and Angelique's blogs, which has motivated me to finally post. I have been writing with the intention of posting but everything I have started writing I have not finished therefore have not posted. So instead of trying to finish some of the deeper things that have been on my mind I will give a quick update:

Cecilia:
Cecilia is in first grade this year and loving it. She has adjusted so well and I am so proud of her. She is reading at close to a third grade level. Her writing has improved and she has such confidence. We recently went to a fall festival held at her school and my little social butterfly walked through the halls saying hello to children and teachers alike. I marvel at how comfortable she is in her own skin and pray that she hangs on to that throughout the years to come. She is just such a wonder!

Sophia:
My little tornado. For me, being around Sophia is like sitting in the warm sun with an occasional cool breeze washing over me. She is such a joy. She has such a sense humor. I have so many stories about her I don't which one to choose. She sings all the time and is the queen of imitation. The other day I was standing in the kitchen talking to Keith who was leaning with one arm against the counter with one foot crossed in front of him. Sophia comes over and quietly leans one arm on the cabinet and is trying to balance on one foot long enough to cross her other foot in front of her. Having finally accomplished the stance she looks up at me with a little glint in her eye and I know what she wants so I too lean on the counter and cross one foot in front. I steal a look at her and she is starting to giggle and once I look in her eyes she dissolves into a full belly laugh, which is contagious. She loves her big sister and wants to do everything just like Cecilia. She also wants Cecilia to do everything and lets us know by saying, "Celia do it."

Keith:
Keith started a new job in July and loves it. He is working for a company out of New York who opened a new office down here in Kernersville. He loves that things actually get accomplished without a meeting to schedule a meeting to discuss when there will be a meeting to problem solve an issue. I love that he comes home in a good mood.

Me:
I left my permanent position at the hospital. I still work there but instead of having the weekend shift I work as needed filling in here and there. I made this move so I could work a full time, five-day a week job transcribing again. That job lasted two months for several reasons. First of all, I worked for the most evil woman walking the earth. I mean the devil is this lady's minion she is so awful. I actually got in trouble for talking to my coworkers despite the fact I was producing 1000 to 1500 lines a day. Second, transcribing is physically taxing, especially when you do not have the freedom to get up and stretch for 10 minutes. Third, it was really difficult working five days a week and it made me pretty miserable. I really missed being home and having time with the girls and Keith. I honestly think the only word that left my mouth for two months was hurry as in "hurry, get in the car we have to go to school. Hurry, get in the house we have to eat dinner. Hurry, finish up in the shower we have homework to do." It was terrible. Also, and my apologies to the feminist in anyone who will read this, I truly felt like less of a wife. Keith has always done his share of everything and I appreciate that. But I hated not being the one to make phone calls regarding our children or the other things I was doing when I was home during the week. I enjoy being a wife (I suck at it but I am a work in progress). I like cooking dinner and picking up the girls and doing laundry and having things done for when Keith comes home. I like being home when Keith comes home from work. I missed that. So, when it became increasingly obvious that things were not going to improve at my job, Keith encouraged me to quit. Now, I am picking up shifts at the hospital and gearing up to enroll in the nursing assistant program at the community college near my house. After that I may enroll in the phlebotomy course because it is more money and I will need to make extra money while I am attending school to get my nursing degree. This is a huge step for me. Over the last year I have talked myself in and out of going back to school to become a nurse at least three times. So now I am telling people that I am going to do it in the hopes that the more people who know the less likely it is for me to back out of it. I am scared but also pretty excited.

Pretty Cool

I know I haven't written in a while and I will. In the meantime, I wanted to share this it is pretty cool.

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Kleptomaniac (n): An obsessive impulse to steal regardless of economic need

The first person sent to us from the Nanny Service to watch our children was a kleptomaniac. She has not been back in our home since the end of October, however, my white-hot rage over the whole situation has pretty much prevented me from writing about it until now. So here is the story:

I come into the kitchen on a Tuesday morning and Keith asks me what I did with the knives. He goes on to explain that he can’t find four of our knives. I tell him not to worry I will call V and ask her where she may have put them. Then he tells me that we are also missing spoons. That, of course, gives me pause because why the hell would we be missing knives and spoons – strange. After a minute, I tell him that I will call R (the owner of the Nanny Service) to let her know that we are missing things. I ask Keith if he looked in the other drawers for the knives and spoons, as V may not have realized where things went. He said that he had been through the whole kitchen and had made sure Cecilia hadn't taken them. It probably took another full minute for it to fully register in my head that V had taken these things from our home. At that point, I go into my bedroom and check my jewelry to see if anything is missing. It all appears to be there.

My conversation with R does not go exactly as I thought it would. She is not outraged by my news, nor does she appear upset. In fact, she seems pretty unfazed by what I have told her. She tells me she will check with V, as she is sure there is a reasonable explanation for the whole thing. I get off the phone feeling confused and completely invalidated. I wasn’t wanting an all out emotional outburst from R but a little indignation would have been nice. As I go through my normal morning routine, the gravity of what is happening begins to envelop me like a thick fog. My confusion gives way to such intense anger I can barely breathe. The person who I allowed in my home, who I trusted with my children, stole from me. I could barely see straight. I called Keith and raged at him for a while and we agreed that regardless of V’s explanation we would never be able to trust her again and she would, of course, not be allowed in our home. After many phone calls, including one with V that night and the next morning, we realized that V was never going to admit what she had done and we were never going to get our stuff back. R (who later apologized for her lack of reaction to our initial phone call chalking it up to being caught off guard) placed a new sitter and I tried to get past daydreaming of running V down with my car.

Well, getting past it was clearly not going to happen because over the next few weeks I discovered more and more things missing. V had stolen two t-shirts (one a workout shirt), two tank tops (one of my favorites and one workout top), one pair of workout capri pants, one pair of workout pants, a bra, a brand new sweater (never worn), and a gym bag (to apparently carry it all in). Plus six knives and 5-6 spoons. I tired to make light of it. I tried to laugh about it. I dreamed of tearing her little head from her petite little body. The last straw came when I discovered an outfit of Cecilia’s missing. It was all I could take. Stealing from me is one thing stealing from my child…I had no idea the level of rage I could achieve. As I traveled to these new heights of fury, I tried repeatedly to get in touch with R. The only thing I was taking solace in was that V was not working for R anymore. R was going to let her go not because she stole from me (she couldn’t really prove that) but because she broke her contract by working for a family that she interviewed with through the service. Evidently, V didn’t limit her stealing to just material things. As Keith sat on the couch with his jaw clenched silently raging (he is not a yeller like me), I informed R about the latest items taken from our home. Her reaction was slightly better this time. However, in this conversation R informed me that V was still working for her because she couldn’t prove that she was working for that other family. I naively thought that she would have, at the very least, informed the other family that V was accused of stealing but she didn’t do that either. In fact, to make matters worse, the mother of the children V was still watching was going to become R’s business partner. It was all too much for me. Keith and I started discussing alternatives to our current situation because I kept questioning what R was keeping from us about our new babysitter if she wasn’t going to inform this other family about V.

So now Sophia is in a daycare center two days a week and Cecilia goes to an after school care program one day a week. So far things seem to be going well. The daycare center is a four star center with a superior rating. Sophia cries when I drop her off but she seems pretty happy when we pick her up. After our first experience with Cecilia, we are a little nervous. I am keeping an eye out for personality changes in Sophia…nothing yet thankfully. Cecilia’s after school program is great. It is not affiliated with her elementary school unfortunately, as that one was full. It has been three weeks and overall, we are pleased. For right now at least.

As for R, she left me some guilt-laden message about doing her “best” for us and how sorry she was that she couldn’t “accommodate our needs” and that she would be sending a gift card to us to cover our “material loss” from V of which I have yet to see. Cecilia asked why V wasn’t babysitting anymore but didn’t seem too upset over it. She was also a little confused about being sent to the ASP but she is enjoying it too much to really care. I still dream of running into V and beating the ever-living crap out of her, which is actually progress if you think about because I don’t want her dead anymore…

I ran so hard...

This time I knew it was coming. Watching the clock waiting for the phone to ring. All I wanted was to hear her voice on the other end telling me that everything was fine. Joking about how Rob handled it all – come get the car Rob passed out and bumped his head – the dumb ass. But it wasn’t her it was him. The pause told me what I already knew but he still had to say the words and a little piece of me died with hearing them. Yesterday Dianna knew but I didn’t want to believe it. God wouldn’t do this to us. Not now when so much is going on. Not when we were all praying so hard. Not again when they wanted this so badly. I couldn’t go see her right away. Waiting for Cecilia’s swim lesson to finish I ran on the treadmill. I ran so hard chasing down something to say to her. An answer for her. Anything, really, that would make it better. I ran so hard and still couldn’t catch up to any logic. I went to her and held her saying nothing. We cried together again. Again. Again. AGAIN! Why again? I want to understand. I want to believe that this is nature and not something bigger punishing us. All these things going through my head. Things I want to apologize for: I am sorry that there is a part of me that is relieved that she told everyone and I don’t have to go through this with her alone again. Relieved that I can be a little bit more selfish – a little less strong – a little more sad because she has other people to lean on. I am sorry that I want so desperately for her to try again because I know (I have always known) what a wonderful mother she will be and what a wonderful father Rob will be. I want her to try again because I believe that it will be different – successful. And selfishly I want her to try for me too. I want so desperately to be an aunt to her child. To live up to the standard she has set through my children. I want to be as good as her – or at least close. But who the hell am I? And what does it matter what I think? But most of all I am sorry for not being able to fix her pain. For not being able to say or do that one thing that will take her sadness away. And trust I would do anything – even carry the pain myself – to release her for even just a moment. But it is her burden to carry while the rest of us get to watch powerless. I imagine that if each one of us has our own personal hell that would be mine – watching the people I love struggle while I stand by unable to help.