Good News/Bad News

Good News

My youngest began his clerkship (or, as it’s called in the U.S. and on medical television shows, internship) this fall.  His first placement is with the Psychiatry Department of a local hospital.

Bad News

I overheard him talking with one of his brothers – he’s ACTUALLY spent some time considering diagnoses that might be suitable for me!!  His dear sweet mother.  I’m not quite sure whether to be touched by his concern or pissed off that he thinks I’m nuts.  Or borderline nuts.  It’s one thing for me to admit to a certain (minor) level of craziness – it’s another to be labeled certifiably so.

Good News

He couldn’t find one!  Apparently, my (few) obsessive traits, astounding leaps of logic and quirky uniqueness don’t even come close to being considered a medical condition worth labeling or diagnosing. 

“So far,” he noted.  Ominously.

“Best watch yourselves,” I responded.  “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.  Actually, there’s no way it possibly could unless there was a fierce wind, but anyway, apples falling from trees might land on your head so be careful in apple orchards.  And always listen to your mother.”

They exchanged glances and grins.  I grinned, too.  I was just messing with their minds.  Truly.

The fact the above makes perfect sense to me?  I’m not telling any of my kids –particularly son # 3.  I happen to think complete sanity is highly overrated.  I’m also going to start keeping some of my thoughts to myself.

photo credits: google images

A Slice of Life (or Cake)

Last weekend we did the combined April birthdays celebration.  Not shown in the photos below is my eldest – he of the crazy antics, outrageous utterances and the goofiest of faces.  He’s currently reluctant to have these talents displayed on the Internet - even frowned upon learning his picture had been put on Facebook.  (A picture of him underwater, wearing a diving mask and completely unrecognizable.)

Although not visible, he is responsible for evoking the laughter in these pictures.

son # 3 is not crying – I think he’d just snorted with laughter

 son # 2 is no slouch in the crazy antics department, either

(not sure what I was doing with my finger – interesting gestures a camera captures)

Are there people in your life who can turn the negatives upside-down (or right-side-up) and make you laugh and smile?  Or who make you laugh and smile for no particular reason at all or for the most ridiculous of reasons?  I hope so.  They certainly exist in mine.

Mother Love

 
My mother has Alzheimer’s disease.

She is still capable of being present – in the moment – as the mother I have always known and whose love is felt.

There are times she is not.  And during some of these times, her frustration, depression and rage erupt.  She becomes verbally abusive.  Her venom, language and anger are staggering.  This person is a stranger to me but still my mother.

As an adult, I know her hurtful words are a symptom of the disease.  But the child in me is often reduced to tears by this verbal abuse.  It is painful to be the object of such anger and, yes, hate.

I have learned that attempting to stem this tide of venom is futile.  I stay with her and listen for as long as I can endure it but eventually have to leave.  I believe it is often my presence (and that of my sisters) which prompts the rage.  We are the ones who placed her in the nursing home.  As she sees it, we took away her life. 

There are other moments when my increasingly frail mother is simply very, very sad.  During these times, she is very much aware – knows she has this disease, what it is doing to her and what is to come.  She fights it.  Doing so exhausts her.  I admire her courage, strength and determination but her struggling efforts break my heart.

There is always a next stage with Alzheimer’s and it is always worse.  You cannot anticipate when that stage will come or what it will be like.  But when it comes, you do your best to deal with it.  My best isn’t good enough.  I can’t make anything right – I can’t fix things for my mother.  She lives with the nightmare of this disease – my sisters and I live with guilt, frustration and despair.  And tears.

For those of you experiencing a similar tragedy, my heartfelt sympathy.

For those of you who someday might, I have no words of wisdom or advice.

***

My mother was determined to attend my son’s wedding.  She managed to make it through the ceremony but then became confused, disoriented and exhausted.  She had to leave.

We took her out for her birthday dinner last night.  She was very quiet but was able to read her birthday cards aloud and blessed us with her smiles.  When we took her back to the nursing home she didn’t remember having had dinner.

She is already anxious as to coming here for Thanksgiving dinner but when the time comes she will rally and want to be with us.  Surrounded by loved ones, she will still experience moments of feeling lost and overwhelmed.  We will all take turns sitting quietly beside her.

Another Milestone...

Exciting, crazy and emotional times around here. 

Son #2 is getting married this Saturday!! 

As mother of the groom, other than writing my speech and fretting about fitting into my dress, I’ve had very little to do in terms of prep for THE BIG DAY.  I am in awe of both my daughter-in-law-to-be and her mother for all the work they’ve done.  The details, the drama…

No regrets not having a daughter at this stage in life – for her sake and mine.  I would make a lousy wedding planner.  On the off (remote) chance my other two sons might ask for my assistance for their weddings, I’m urging them to elope. 

I read my speech to my sister last weekend and she burst into tears.  I’m taking that as a positive – no re-write necessary.  But what are the chances I’m going to make it through the speech without crying?  Slim to none.

My little boy is getting married!!!  I know, I know, he’s not a little boy any more.  But a mother has the uncanny ability of looking at the young man her son has become and seeing him at every stage of his life.

Ted - always ready and eager to take the plunge

It's a Gift...

Monday morning conversation with youngest son as he leaves for work.

Me: “Don’t forget to call that guy today. I told him you would and if you don’t, it will make me look like a raving lunatic.”

Son: (pauses while untangling his iPod wires, glances over at me and states calmly)
“Mom, you are a raving lunatic.”

My immediate response – denial – is fleeting and dies a natural death. Mea culpa.

Me: “Okay, so, just because I am a raving lunatic doesn’t mean I want to look like one.”

Boys can be brutal.

I shall embrace my lunacy.

And I resist the urge to tell him it’s hereditary and/or catching. Each of my sons is exhibiting the signs. Makes for some delightful and amusing times together.

The Graduate

Off to my son’s graduation ceremony today - which is actually tomorrow but we figured a relaxing stay at a hotel beats an early rise and battling Tuesday morning traffic.

This is one of those milestones in your child’s life where, while they did all the work, you get to share in the sense of accomplishment.

For a mother, such an occasion also tends to bring back memories of their child’s first day of school – and, perhaps, a few tears. Just a few. Tears of joy and pride.

While many believe mothers are incapable of being objective regarding their children, mothers know otherwise. We may love them without reservation, but we know who they are and what they’re capable of better than anyone.

And so, when I say that this quiet, committed and compassionate child of mine will make his mark in the world, believe me, he will.

He already has.

Mother's Day - With a Twist

I’d post this tomorrow but I’ll be busy being worshipped while sitting on the throne. (Not the one in the bathroom.) Truthfully? One son is away, the other finally has a day off work and will probably sleep for most of it and the third one? Well, he did promise… We’ll see what they come up with.

And while tomorrow is the day to show mothers how much they’re appreciated and loved (or not…) I’m viewing it a little differently this year.

I’m going to pause and appreciate the fact I am a mother.

Sure, my kids have caused me a lot of grief over the years and I hold each of them personally responsible for my foul vocabulary (I didn’t swear before I had children), the grey hair (successfully hidden with a dye job) and the (few!) wrinkles – aka laugh/frown lines.

But all is forgiven. We’ve reached a mutually satisfying arrangement as to the above. The boys put a quarter in the jar each time I swear, pay for the dye jobs with their gambling profits and are saving for my future Botox treatments from their (somewhat) lucrative drug dealing.

I’ve got me some fine sons!

All kidding aside (and I am kidding about the gambling and drugs although the quarter in the jar thing might be worth starting), I take great delight in their company and love them dearly.

So, Curly, Larry and Moe – my thanks for making this Mother Happy!

And I wish all Mothers a Day of Happy.

P.S. My sisters and I are taking our mother out for lunch tomorrow – we still owe her…

(Perhaps I’ll be accused of poking fun at a sacred cow with this post but since I’m one of the cows, I figured it would be okay.)

Boom, Boom, Ain't It Great To Be....

three men and a lady...

Every once in a while, the topic of Mom (that would be me) and her future vis-à-vis men comes up in this household. I know my boys would like to think of me in a wonderful relationship someday – that whole being loved and taken care of thing. I’m somewhat ambivalent about it. In fact, I don’t see it happening – particularly the taken care of part. I’m doing very well on my own, thank you very much - happy to be here.

Anyway, the topic came up again the other day while I was talking with son #2. I was pointing out one of the (many) obstacles to my finding a suitable suitor.

(Oh! I like that last bit… the alliteration…the “suit” suit” thing…)

Back to my story.

Me: “Whoever I might meet (emphasis on the word might) would have to accept you boys – the fact that you can all be crazy, irreverent, silly and rude.”

Son #2: (His expression a mixture of bemusement, incredibility and a touch of dead serious.) “Uh, Mom? That would be you.”

Light bulb goes off.

Me: “You’re right.”

We both grin.

Son #2: “How do you think we got this way?”

And then we laugh - because yes, we are both crazy and we find this exchange to be damned funny.

With this newsflash from my son, I realize my so-called chances or opportunities just decreased tenfold. Don’t really care. I like me just the way I am. And if I’m responsible for having created three more just like me? Oh, you lucky, lucky world!

Bear With Me...

Caught off guard today by yet another legal salvo. After two years, you have to wonder how anything could still surprise me. But it can and does.

Each legal/marital situation is unique, but I’m beginning to understand why so many women eventually fold in these legal battles. They have other far more important priorities in life.

My priorities? My children, my mother (her medical issues), my own health and my desire to move on – put this all behind me.

I’m heading to the cottage tomorrow. The weather is supposed to be beautiful and I’m hoping to beat the arrival of the black flies. Their ETA is some time in May.

I’ll be doing some thinking while I’m there. Asking myself questions.

How do you define strength? Is there strength in simply walking away? Can you place a value on peace? Is there ever truly a winner or loser in this sort of situation? What about the collateral damage? My children, family and friends…

And what would it be like to be free of this?

A friend of mine noted that perhaps all along the game plan has been to wear me down. Now, that’s not very nice, is it? ;)

Funny how things happen. Made the decision to go to the cottage early this morning, discovered a beautiful song shortly after that (courtesy of Seraphine – my thanks to you) and then received the latest legal info. It all turned out just right. I’m going to a place I love, discovered a song that reminds me of the peace I feel when I’m there and I need to be there now.

For those of you who listen to videos that are posted, the song is “Blue” by Lucinda Williams. Not blue as in “I’m feeling blue…” but in the sense of what being at the cottage means to me, what it does for me. (And, yeah, I like country music – that eclectic taste of mine…) Lyrics below.





Blue – Lucinda Williams

Go find a jukebox and see what a quarter will do
I don't wanna talk I just wanna go back to blue
Feeds me when I'm hungry and quenches my thirst
Loves me when I'm lonely and thinks of me first
Blue is the color of night
When the red sun
Disappears from the sky
Raven feathers shiny and black
A touch of blue glistening down her back
We don't talk about heaven and we don't talk about hell
We come to depend on one another so damn well
So go to confession whatever gets you through
You can count your blessings I'll just count on blue
Blue is the color of night
When the red sun
Disappears from the sky
Raven feathers shiny and black
A touch of blue glistening down her back
Blue

B'day Boy

Happy Birthday, Teds!

It’s been a privilege and a pleasure being a fan of yours – watching you on the ice, the baseball field, anywhere…

As you continue your journey, remember: play fair, keep your head up (or down as the case may be) and enjoy the game!


With Love,
Your Coach and GM


P.S. Good luck today.

Teddy, Teddy
He’s our man
If he can’t do it
No one can!

My Brain Hurts

As well as having my own legal homework this week, I also edited my son’s university thesis intro paper. He had the presence of mind (and the diplomacy) to note in his request - “…just check for spelling and grammatical errors. I really have no idea whether you'll be able to understand what it's all about - hopefully I do a good enough job explaining it, but it may be pretty technical.”

Pretty technical??? It’s a bloody foreign language!

But I was damned if I was going to read his paper and not try to figure out what the hell he was talking about. I studied it as though I was preparing for an exam. Granted, I would have failed the exam, but still….

I was impressed beyond words (quite unlike me) with the content. My inner voice kept interrupting my concentration to shout – “My kid wrote this!” “My kid knows what he’s talking about!”

Meanwhile, I was struggling with just about every second sentence. Has my brain atrophied with age? Does the fact he’s a Science/Psych major and I was a History/English one excuse my bewilderment?

This experience was in no way similar to looking over those public or high school papers my kids wrote – wielding my red pen and leaving such comments as, “This is a HUGE run-on sentence – fix it!”

Nope. I was out of my depth with this one - although I valiantly tried to make sense of it all. Needless to say, I did not make any constructive criticism. I was afraid to touch a sentence for fear of inadvertently changing the meaning of it – a meaning I could barely grasp in the first place.

I am comforted by the flimsy (wishful thinking) belief that I can take some credit for the kid’s smarts. I did teach him how to read at the age of four…

And I’m just fine with the fact my son is obviously way beyond me in the I.Q. department. All my kids are – they now pass on their wisdom to me.

But, my god, I feel stupid. Although it’s an okay/acceptable kind of stupid. When it’s relative to your own kid’s intelligence, it’s not quite as painful to admit.

Duly Noted

Noted this past week:

I have never put my gloves in the glove compartment of a car.

When I use mouthwash, my nose gets runny.

Being a mother means having your heart in many different places.

There are days I can walk by the empty beer cases in the laundry room and ignore them.

If I had to choose between television or music, the choice would be music. No hesitation.

I am capable of living with an ominous dripping sound in the north wall of my house and doing nothing about it. (For now.)

The fashion maxim that states get rid of clothes you haven’t worn in over a year? I’m incapable of doing that. (Snuck a sweater out of the bag for Goodwill.)

The word “no” – both in my vocabulary and actions – has increased in usage.

I will tell a perfect stranger they have the size tag still attached to the back of their jeans. (I wish people would return the favour.)


Always learning….

Joy

So…

Say you have a son you adore (or three) who happens to play the piano and one day you hear him playing such a beautiful piece you pause and stop what you’re doing.

And, then, you hear a voice singing along with the music – and you haven’t heard this son of yours sing solo with such gusto and abandonment since he was a child. Momentarily, you wonder where this deep, rich voice is coming from.

If you’re me, you are blown away, amazed and enthralled. And so you sneak into the living room to listen – very, very quietly.

And you don’t ask the meaning of these particular lyrics…

is that alright, yeah?
give my gun away when it's loaded
is that alright, yeah?
if you don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it?
is that alright, yeah?
give my gun away when it's loaded
is that alright yeah, with you?

…because you’re not sure you really want to know and the song and the singing are just so damn beautiful…

You simply listen to his voice, watch his hands on the keys and his body swaying to the music - and you marvel.

Sing it loud, sweetheart.

And sing it again.

He did. By request.


9 Crimes – Damien Rice


(This video scared me silly – I had to close my eyes. But I love the song. And if you’re still with me and watch the video, listen for the crescendo. Wow, my kid belted that out…)

Mom Is Always Right

Gross, huh? This swollen monstrosity of a foot with the yucky toe is not mine. It belongs to one of my sons who prefers to remain anonymous.

A classic example of - “It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt.”

For years and years I have told my kids NOT TO WRESTLE on the slippery raft trying to push one another into the lake BECAUSE SOMEONE MIGHT GET HURT.

I was finally proved right. Someone did get hurt - broke a toe and tore ligaments.

My sense of satisfaction is not what I thought it might be.

Mother love trumps being right.



Okay, so I was desperate for blog fodder. My apologies. The brain is functioning at about 75% capacity. It was either this or Day 6 of no posts. Perhaps another no post day might have been preferable??

Moments in Life

A “slice of life” moment.

My niece and my son work at a children’s camp near our family cottages. (Very convenient for visits on their days off.) My niece related the following scene she’d observed at the camp:

My 21 year old (bilingual) son hunkering down to the eye level of a little girl (a tad homesick and speaking only French) offering comfort and conversation in the language she understands.

How wonderful is it to hear stories like this about those you love? And if you can’t be there to witness such scenes for yourself, how wonderful is it to be able to hear the story from someone else you love – someone who loves and adores her cousin?

I’m blessed – not only with my own children but to have so many amazing nieces and nephews.

(Hey, my sisters, we did something so very right…)

***

Re: the above image. I lucked out! I was checking the camp website for a picture and found this one.

“Hey, I recognize that back!” – and that hat, bathing suit, shape of the head…

It’s Sam from last summer when he was Waterfront Director (a young but well-qualified and responsible Waterfront Director) chatting with another young camper.

How To Be An Overprotective Mother

For all you mothers out there – the following passage explains (with slight exaggeration) how I managed to make it through those early years of motherhood.


“They always make it a point to tell you in those stories what the mother was doing wrong – she just ran to the store for a pack of cigarettes – she just dozed off for a minute – she was talking on the phone when the kid, who was jumping on the bed, flew out of the tenth-story window. So I simply keep the kids with me all the time.”

Cleaning House – Nancy Hayfield


I swear, some days it felt like that. Being responsible for the lives of your children is a daunting task.

Happy Mother’s Day.

And may your little darlings reward you (today and always) for your love, devotion, 6th sense and for growing those eyes in the back of your head.

Special Day, Special Boy

Happy Birthday, Sam!

Wish you were here.

I’m sure you do, too. Birthday cake and gifts are much more fun than spending your special day studying for an exam.

My apologies to both you and Ted for having given birth in late April. (What was I thinking??)

And you know that gift I bought and told you I was so excited about and then Christopher laughed and made fun of it so now you’re a little apprehensive thinking it might be one of those “crazy Mom” gifts? (Whew, long sentence…) Well, they delivered the wrong item. Not sure when the right one will arrive. The suspense continues! And please don’t laugh when you finally see it. My heart is always in the right place despite the fact I apparently (occasionally) suffer a brain malfunction when buying gifts for you boys.

In closing, do I dare use one of those sappy terms of endearment I have for you? Hell, yes.

Miss you, love-bug.

Talk to you later…see you soon…and good luck on your exam.

Lots of love,
Mom

P.S. I also apologise for the fact you inherited my fly-away, fine hair.

Happy Day

Ted (son # 2) arrives home today after his world travels.

What do you bet I burst into tears when he walks through the door? And because he is my kid, he will find nothing unusual about that. (It’s a mom thing – or a this-kind-of-mom thing.)

Bless him. His special request dinner for his first night home? Mom’s spaghetti. Pretty damn simple to prepare. Younger brother voiced his complaint - “Why didn’t he ask for a roast beef dinner?!”

I have missed my boy. And that smile!

Happiness Is...

Beth is happy about:

The arrival of spring but not the annual invasion of (big) ants.

The fact that two of her boys are home but not the fridge door being left open all night.

The increased vitality of her dog but not the daily challenge of getting him to take his RX. (It’s actually crossed my mind to tempt him with paté.)

The fact that she is finally writing again but not that she received a big fat rejection (rejections are all big and fat) from the publisher who had previously accepted prior submissions. (I’ll simply submit elsewhere – I’m still thrilled to be writing again…)

The fact that my son Ted will be home from Europe next Tuesday but – HEY, THERE ARE NO BUTS ABOUT THIS ONE!


(And J., if you are reading this, enjoy your visit with my boy. Behave yourselves!)

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

Behold my amateur photography efforts to show you some of the art displayed on the walls in my home.

(Be thankful I am not displaying my own artistic work again.)

Picture # 1 is a favourite. I’m unable to explain why. I just happen to like the visual effects. For all I know, it could be a rendition of the apocalypse or interesting blood splatter from a gruesome death. No matter. I don’t feel obliged to explain my reasons for liking abstract art – or any art. It either speaks to you at some level or it doesn’t.

Picture # 2 is my VERY favourite. It too appears to be a work of abstract art. Or perhaps it would be more appropriate to describe this as an example of impressionism since it actually is a five year old’s impression of an outdoor scene. (From the collection: Sam Stewart – The Early Years.)

This particular artist did not trust the general public to understand the meaning behind his art. He provided an explanation.

“I am on this side of East.
It is night time.”

However, it is left up to the observer to wonder why the sun is shining during the night and to contemplate what it means to be “on this side of east.” Ah, the mystery of it all…

I love this painting!

If you feel the urge to fill your home with meaningful, beautiful works of art, I suggest framing some of your children’s best efforts. To my keen and observant eye, there’s not a whole lot of difference between these two paintings.

And money aside, which painting do you think is of greater value to me?