It’s been barely twenty-four hours since we left Babygirl at college.

We had a nice drive out there, unloaded the car and loaded up the dorm room. Everything fit, but she was a bit exasperated by mommy’s desire to help her unpack. She wanted to get her schedule and roam around for a little while. We got the schedule and a few notices about the social things that were going on last night but she immediately noticed one thing….she only had four classes listed. She added up the credits and they added up to what amounted  to…..ready for this?…..part time student status.

Oh shit.

Well there was nothing to be done yesterday. That had to wait for today when she met up with her student advisor. We left her with her boy and roommate. There were dewy eyes, but no tears. I was proud of myself.

So, first thing this morning, she set off in search of  one person who could fix this. Apparently there is no one who can do that. She was shuttled from office to office – at one point she sat for two hours waiting to talk to a man who could only tell her that he couldn’t help her! Full of frustration, anger and anxiety, she called the last person in the world who was equipped for this type of emergency…..

Her mother.

Yep, she called me. I woke up with raging allergies which set off a killer migraine. I had already thrown up twice and was almost ready to rip out my own eyeball when the phone rang. She tried to explain what was happening and I needed her to repeat everything over and over until I could comprehend what she was telling me. Did we need to call the school? Did we only pay enough tuition for a part time student?  What was happening?? Through her tears and her trembling voice I could finally make it all out. I wanted to hug her. After all these years of being uncomfortable with hugging, that was all I could think of doing. There was no way  I could fix this for her. There was nothing that could be done until tomorrow. I couldn’t comfort her. I cried, making my nose stuffy and making my head pound even more.

I suggested that she print out the financial records that show that she has paid her tuition and that she is in a dorm. That way she will be armed when she goes to the various offices. Her printer isn’t hooked up yet and she’ll have to use her RA’s or another student’s.

She had a half  hour until she met a friend for lunch so I told her to sit down and relax. Her roommate had made coffee so I suggested that she have a cup.  And then she sobbed out “I can’t even do that! I don’t have any milk for it! I’m going to the store later!”

It was going downhill for both of us.

Finally, we came to the decision to breathe and wait for tomorrow or at least for calmer minds. I hung up the phone, ran to the bathroom to be sick and then threw myself on the bed. I buried my head into my pillow and screamed….and screamed….and screamed. Then I called Lostmahead to vent and cry out my feelings of helplessness. She came running. After a cup of tea and a hug, she went back to work and I laid down to try to sleep.

Two hours later, (I still hadn’t slept) Babygirl got in touch again. Her status is changed to full time student. Her credits have gone from nine to twelve. And as we chatted, she was offered a job in the bookstore. (It would be hella nice if she got a discount on her books!!)  As long as it won’t interfere with her scheduling, she will take it.

While not everything is in place, at least most of it is. As Lostmahead pointed out, Babygirl has handled past problems with teachers and bosses with admirable finesse. I should place my trust in that ability and simply remind her that some things take time. (she is like her mom in that we both have problems with patience)

And so, in the first twenty-four hours of being the mother of a college student, I have gone through

*The horror of not being able to comfort my child as she sobbed through the phone line.

*The frustration of not being able to make this mess go away.

*The pain of trying to comprehend important information with a sledgehammer pounding in my head.

*The relief that things are working out.

*The elation that there may be a job.

*And the pride of knowing that my girl may have had a breakdown, but she pulled herself up by the bootstraps and managed to get the ball rolling on the right track.

I haven’t had moodswings like this since I was pregnant with her!!

My son went away for the weekend and turned off the air conditioner in his room. It is a small room and his queen size bed sits below the window. Well, while the AC was off this weekend, it leaked…into his room. Not only did water run down the wall wetting  the carpet, but it soaked a quarter of the mattress through to part of the box spring. Now what? Is there any way to dry it out? Do we write it off and try to come up with the money for a new bed? It’s the last thing we can afford right now. I felt so bad for Son2. He had worked all day in the heat, humidity and sun. He had come home long enough to shower, throw food into his face and run to his second job, where Monday is one of the busiest nights of the week. All he wanted to do was crash into his bed. Instead, at one in the morning, I was helping him soak up some of the water and later crying about his shitty luck.

My daughter wants to go to Colorado with her Man and his family in January. They enjoy snowboarding and that is exactly what they will be doing. His parents will be paying for everything but the air fare. When you look at the price of tickets to lots of places, or even the cost of a ski pass to our local Pocono Mountain resorts, the air fare will be  cheaper. We can’t really afford that either.  I added tears for her to the tears for my son.

I looked into the mirror this weekend and saw my hair. I stop dying my hair every summer because of vacations. If I dye it, the dye fades quickly in the sun or washes out in the chlorine of the pools. It also gives my crappy hair a break from the chemicals. This year, the white hair is more prominent than usual. Hubs likes it. Now I face the prospect of letting the gray grow in. I am cutting back on things and hair dye is not a ‘necessary’ expense. I feel old when I look at myself. Hubs thinks it’s pretty. Oh the indecision….

Our business is slow. But at least we have something. Babygirl may be headed to college, but she can get a job to help out with school expenses or to get herself a plane ticket. She has earned the money to buy her own back-to-school clothes and many of her supplies. Son2 has plenty of his own expenses, and that is the reason for two jobs. But at least he has money to go to the Union soccer games once, sometimes twice, a week (we paid for half of his season tickets for last Christmas-when we had a streak of good income) He can buy a new bed for himself, if he has to. Dying my hair?  Well, shit. I won’t be the end of the world if I look my age. Yanno?

My friend’s husband is losing his job-along with 700 other families- when their plant closes.

My friend has little kids, kids who can’t get jobs to help pay for their school supplies. Her kids are too young to fully understand the way their parents will have to cut corners. Her husband will be dealing with the stress and depression that comes with looking for a job and providing for his family. She will deal with standing by her man, saving every penny she can and the heartbreaking task of telling her children “no” far too often than “yes”

I feel so guilty moaning about a plane ticket, a bed, and worst of all HAIR DYE!  These things pale in the face of the troubles in front of others.

I light a candle and pray everyday for my friends. I pray for our own financial stability and health. I pray that some of you get back good test results. I hope that you don’t lose your insurance, your car, your home. I pray that you get that job you interviewed for. I pray that this love is the one that lasts.

And I’ve added another friend to my litany of prayers. My dear friend, I hope that something good comes your way soon.

A few things are happening….just a few ….but they are the type of things that keep me from you, my friends.

Something old…..That would be me. Hubs whisked me away for two nights at the beach. We relaxed, met up with my kids for a day on the beach and dinner, and we shared some drinks and smooches. One morning, we rented bicycles and rode them…..and rode them….and-well you get the drift. We rode for forty-five minutes in one direction, turned around and rode back. Lemme tell you, halfway back, I damn near died. My muscles burned, my body spewed off sweat and I could see my thighs twitch with overuse. Yeppers, kids, I am sadly out of shape. Even though I have been exercising, I have been more about the cardio and abs. Apparently, I must learn to do it all.

Something new…..My laptop needs a new fanbelt. It had been overheating a bit and after ruling out overuse and a recalled battery, I discovered that that was what I needed.  And so, my beloved is off for two weeks getting repaired. Which brings me to….

Something borrowed…..In the meantime, I am typing this post on Babygirl’s laptop. This won’t happen very often, I’m sure. I am afraid of doing anything that would compromise this back-to-school purchase.  So….if anything needs to be spilled on here, I will most likely be borrowing the business computer. Ugh! You know how I feel about that!

And lastly, we have something blue…..That would be me. My cousin is not doing very well with her battle against stomach cancer. We only learned of it shortly before Christmas, and she has already nosedived very quickly. I can only hope that she is spared from too much pain. Life is not very fair.

There is also the ‘countdown’ to August 26. That is the day that Babygirl leaves us for her dorm. Yes, I’m blue but also tickled pink–for her. She is excited and so I am, but damn, I will miss her…..

And there you have it.  That’s what’s happening. It’s what keeps me from you all. I hope to catch up with my blog reading because I want to see what YOU’RE doing this summer!!

He is never forgotten. You are not far from my thoughts today, my friend.

Son1 went to school with a guy named Rob. They went through 12 years together in school and during those years, they played all manner of sports together, were in Cub Scouts together, etc. As a matter of fact, when they first started high school, computers weren’t in every home. (Can you even imagine??) Since Rob’s mom was a teacher, they had one and it was thanks to her, that Son1 was able to do alot of his school work.

After high school, they went in different directions. Rob had seizures and one had caused a car accident which injured his back. Unfortunately, Rob became addicted to pain meds. He spent some time in jail, was thrown out of his mother’s house and went on to live with friends. It is really a small world sometimes. Rob lived with the first girls I ever babysat. They all enjoyed their smoke and pretty much laid low.

Eventually, Rob moved on and continued drinking and partying. It was more than Son1 wanted to associate with, and so their friendship faded.

Rob was one of those kids who always said hi to the parents of his friends. It wasn’t unusual for me to sit outside of my house and have him stop by to say hello and shoot the breeze for a bit. I would straight up tell him that it was time to stop the party path. I would tell him that he had potential. I would point out the talents that he had. And he would give me a sad smile and say ” Someday”

We reconnected on Facebook. I thought it was a little strange that he wanted to be my ‘friend’ there, but I am friends with a few kids-or those I consider to be kids. You know, the kids who lived down the street, your friends’ kids, whatever. We’re all adults. We shared jokes, comments and birthday wishes.

He had cleaned up his act. He had an apartment. His seizures were diagnosed as being a reason to consider him ‘disabled’. He may not be working as steadily as he would like, but he was in a good place. He even had a steady girlfriend. She was almost my age, with an ex-husband and teenaged kids.  But he was happy.

She was not. She was an addict.

Rob would turn her away when she was too fucked up but he would eventually look for her and make sure that she was okay. Unfortunately, he couldn’t find her a few weeks ago. The next day, he learned that she had killed herself. Then he learned that she had been in contact with her ex. The only comfort he found was to look at her Facebook page and the pictures that he had on his page. 

I got a message today. Rob sent me his phone number and he wants me to call him this weekend.  “I could use a friend about now. I miss her so much and my hurt is deep. I feel like a shadow of my old self. I’m afraid of the old habits that are calling me.”

I don’t know what I’m going to say. I suppose I will just listen to whatever he needs to get off his chest.

I do know that I won’t be waiting for the weekend. I’m calling him tonight.

The day was beautiful, warm enough without being hot. The sunshine, in it’s brilliance seemed to magnify both colors and smells. I want to be outside.

I call to her, “I’m going for a walk. I won’t be long.”  Her response surprises me. “I’ll go with you.”

It always surprises me when she says that. Maybe it’s because teenagers don’t want to be seen with their parents. I don’t know what it is, but I won’t stop to ask or dwell on it. I am happy and will accept it for what it is.

“I’m bringing my camera. I saw something that I’d like to take pictures of.”  I tell her.  ”Cool” ,  she says. “Wait while I get  mine.”

This is even more surprising than the offer to walk with me.  We have each had our cameras on certain occasions and we have taken photos of the same things, but I don’t recall going out specifically to take pictures. I smile inwardly, afraid to spook her with over-eager exclamations of “Really?” or “Hey! That sounds lovely!”

We grab the dog and bring him along.

As we walk, we chat about her BF, about college, about prom and graduation. We talk about everything and nothing. We talk with ease.  Some sounds like typical mother/daughter conversation. Some other sounds like two adult women. It flickers easily between the two.

We stop and look at mushrooms, taking pictures and discussing angles. We see the gardens of the neighborhood and the displays that color the center of town.  In front of the library, we stop to admire the tulips. She leans over to shoot into the center of the blooms. She squats to get up close to them. I look at her, at the way the sunlight reflects off the golden highlights in her hair. I see the concentration on her face and the satisfaction as she finds the exact angle that she had been looking for.

I lift my camera to capture the image of my daughter as she moves among the blossoms. She enjoys what she is doing. She is blissfully unaware of her natural beauty.  She laughs as the dog tangles himself in her legs. She leans to rub his ears and to accept his sloppy dog kisses.

We continue our walk and eventually turn toward home. Both of us are happy with the photos that we have taken. Both of us are happy that we’ve gotten in some exercise without becoming sweaty and uncomfortable.

There is half a block left before home. The dog knows and pulls in that direction. I want to slow him down. I don’t want the walk to end. It was far too short.

My grade school is closing. It is a Catholic grade school which once had thousands of kids in attendance. My graduating class had four homerooms with 30-35  kids in each classroom  room. This year there are roughly 40 in the entire graduating class.

Many people have moved out of the town. It used to have tons of families and each family had lots of kids. The majority of the kids went to St. Joseph’s.  For the high schools that the girls and boys went to, St. Joseph’s was the largest ‘feeder school’. As the inner cities grew and worked their way into the suburbs, many of the ‘old families’  moved on to the even more distant suburbs. The racial and economic dynamic changed. More and more families couldn’t afford the school tuition. More and more kids were going to the public schools. My own kids were among them.

We received word not too long ago that the school was closing. There was not enough income. There were not enough kids registered for next year. Too many repairs need to be made and not enough money to do it. I saw it coming. How could others be so surprised? My only surprise was that it hadn’t happened sooner.

I loved grade school. You all know that because you have read about the connections that have rekindled with so many of my classmates. We all have happy, sad, and hysterical memories of the days, weeks, and years we spent going through the doors. To me, that is “school”. It is the lessons learned. It is the love shared. It is the friendships forged. It just happened to occur in a building…a building named “St. Joseph’s School”. We took our “school” with us as we moved along into High school, college, adulthood.

Now the alumni is crying. They say “how could it happen?” We moved away! We stopped providing the income! That’s what happened!  And for the ones who stayed and sent their own children, did they not notice that instead of four homerooms per class, there was now only one or two? Why suddenly are there fund raisers, enrollment drives, etc?  The diocese requires 200 children in attendance to stay open. Only 142 have registered for next year. Where should we find 58 families who can afford a Catholic education? It isn’t going to happen.

Every year in the Archdiocese of Philadelphia, there are some schools which are going to close. It was only a matter of time until it was our turn. If not this year, maybe next year, but it was still coming. No matter where our kids go to school, they will have pretty much the same experiences that I did. There will be cliques, friendships, dances, psycho teachers, and dorks…..just in a different building.

Everyone can have their candlelight vigils. They can say their rosaries in large prayer circles. They can wave protest signs outside of the church on Sunday. They can have their goodbye mass. It will not change anything.

A house is not a home, it is the people that live in it. That building is not the school. It is the spirit and love that it brought together.

I said goodbye to that school building in 1976.  But I am still ‘in school’ when I am with my grade school friends.

To me she was a job, a few extra bucks, some company during the day.

To mom, she is a precious babe, who needs to be shielded from knowing all the sordid details of her dad and his family.

To dad, she is a link to mom, a pawn in a vicious game that involves innocent kids and not-so-innocent adults.

I went to pick up Mack and found her leaving the school with her Grandmom. I grabbed my cell phone and confronted the woman who was clutching the little girl tightly. Trying hard to stay calm, I called Mom , but got no answer. She was still busy at the courthouse, filing papers and dealing with her lawyer. Grandmom tells me that the custody has changed. My services are no longer needed as she will be taking Mack home with her.

Oh fuck no you are not.

I refused to relinquish my right to that poor girl. “You may not walk off this school property with that kid until I have spoken to her mom. I will call 9-1-1 and also tell the school what you are doing unless you can show me, in writing, what rights you have.”

She couldn’t produce a thing.

Mackenzie-bright child that she is- suggested that Grandmom drive me home. “Then you can see where Miss Chris lives!”  Oh yes. I quickly jumped on the idea and also mentioned that in the meantime we would try to reach Mack’s mom. Maybe  Grandmom would leave Mack with me and once she knew where I lived, she would agree to pick her up if indeed the custody agreement was in her favor.

Finally Mom called me. Yes, unfortunately, the custody agreement is changed but it won’t go into effect until Friday. Mack stays with me. Grandmom was not happy….not one bit.  She dropped us off at my house. ” I hope you understand the position that I am in.” I said. “I simply have to follow the letter of the law. My ass is on the line here.”

“I understand” she said and she smiled. It was a cold smile that did not reach her eyes. I was an accomplice of the enemy.

Mackenzie wanted to leave with Grandmom, and when denied, she cried her eyes out for the second time in a day.

Mom came to get Mack a few hours later and we had a chance to talk. The child was asleep on my couch, having sobbed herself to sleep. Mom told me the whole story. It involved violence and restraining orders. It involved a woman who had worked for several lawyers and knew many judges personally. It involved a man who not only had many run-ins with the law, but was also friendly with others in law enforcement. It  involved a young mother without the money, resources and connections that the opposing side had. Even with police reports and photographic evidence of violence that occurred when kids were in the house, the judge ignored the pleas and is allowing Grandmom to take Mack to and from school again. Dad  is allowed to have Mack on the weekends when he will party it up and leave the child with Grandmom.  Mom is allowed to cry bitter tears of frustration at a system corrupted by who you do and do not know.

And Mack is allowed to fall through the cracks…. along with her younger brother and sister. She has already learned to tell her mom that if she can’t have her own way, she will go live with Dad or Grandmom.

I may have lost a job, but this child has lost so much more.

Three days into the new job and I’m wondering how long I can do this. Is it my age?  My allergy headache?  The heat?  I keep thinking “Fuck my life”.  It feels like a mantra today. Am I ‘drama magnet’?  You be the judge.

In the twenty-five years that I’ve spent watching other people’s kids, I’ve seen alot.  Other than my sisters-in-law, I have babysat the kids of single moms,  newly divorced moms, stupid moms and druggie moms. Very few were what I would call normal.  I have taken on yet another.

Mack’s parents are divorced. Her mom is a single, non-driving, mom of three. Mack is the oldest at 6 and the kids are 2 years apart. I know her job does not offer benefits, nor does she make big money. She works in a store across the street from her apartment and uses the train (which runs behind her place) to get the little ones to the day care. That is enough to make my brain itch. I can’t imagine dealing with just that much!

The drama comes in with the divorce business. Mack’s dad has issues all his own that include not visiting when he says he will, not paying child support consistently, stalking his ex-wife, etc. Both parents ‘talk’ in front of the kids. Mackenzie used to travel to and from school with her father’s mom and she would hang out with her all afternoon. Grandmom also likes to talk shit about Mack’s mom to a kid! What the fuck is wrong with people??

Now when kids come to me with all this type of shit going on at home, I try very hard to make sure that they understand that it is between the ‘grown-ups’  and that they are still loved. I try to be a consistent element in their inconsistent lives. For the most part, the kids have always been happy to come to my house and they would show up with smiling faces. The few exceptions were the ones who had never been separated from mom, were sick, or were just having a bad day.

Today, Mack’s mom had to go to court for more custody crap. Mack only knew that mom wasn’t working and she wanted desperately to stay home with mom. With my doors and windows open, I could hear her crying as she approached my house. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want mom to leave her. She didn’t want to go to school. She cried and sobbed uncontrollably. Snot and tears streamed down her face. I had to peel her off of her mom, who just looked so tired and sad.  She is under the impression that Mack is simply missing Grandmom (because that is what Mack told her)

Mack is not missing Grandmom. Well, I’m sure she is to some extent, but in my opinion, I think that it is more an insecurity issue. It’s early in the morning, she has just walked half a mile to my house, it’s already hot, and she knows that something is going on with Mom because she looked nice today. I can’t treat the crying as just a tantrum. I have to be understanding. I have to let her cry it out a little bit because she doesn’t understand what she is feeling.

As for myself, I woke up with an allergy headache. I am already sweating. My ankle hurts a little bit, but I’m sure that I am only adjusting to walking so far after being sedentary for so long. The last thing I needed today was a kid crying so hard she had snot bubbles.  I guess I should stop bitching about me….Just thinking about Mack’s mom makes me realize, that it could be worse.

Mack and I will just have to adjust together…..Me to working my body again, and Mack to the new way of her little life.

Last week, Hubs picked up some more meat that was on sale. This time he brought home a thick underblade steak. I was unfamiliar with this (because I don’t cook steak- he does) So I looked it up online and discovered that it isn’t recommended for grilling or pan frying due to the toughness of the meat. But I can sure do a roast so that is what I did.

On Sunday morning, I put it into a container with Italian dressing. (I am only now, after all these years, attempting this due to the fact that my family hates anything that is seasoned with more than salt and pepper) On Sunday before going to bed, I flipped it and put it back in the fridge. I was quite confident that I was going to cook this right.

Monday morning, I woke up feeling too achy to get up. I lay in bed watching television until I looked at the clock and realized that it was two hours later than I had planned to get the crockpot fired up! I made my way to the kitchen and pulled my crockpot out from under the sink, which is the only cabinet large enough to store it. I plugged it in to heat while I seared the steak on the range.

It smelled so good! I cut up a large sweet onion, added some beef broth and minced garlic and finally added the steak. While that started, I peeled some carrots and cooked them just a bit on the stove to be sure that they would be tender.

I kept getting an odd whiff of something every so often…..a sort of  ’rubbery’ smell. I looked everywhere in the kitchen and I just couldn’t find where the culprit was. Maybe it was just the smell of the marinade that had cooked on the steak? I don’t know. I added the carrots, along with some potatoes and covered the pot. Then I continued my day.

I took a shower and as I opened the bathroom door, I still had the smell in the hall. I went into the kitchen and searched again. At this point I was convinced it was the marinade, and I hoped that it would dissipate before the guys came home from work.

Hubs came home early-of course! I asked him flat out if he could smell something. “Like what?”  I described it as ‘very warm or hot rubber’. “Is it possibly a wire casing? “  He sniffed around the kitchen and the dining room and said he didn’t smell a thing! (How could he miss it??)

Next, the boys came in. Son2 smelled nothing and went upstairs to get cleaned up. Son1 humored me by sniffing all over like a hound dog. “Mom I can’t smell anything.”  So I finally had to accept that perhaps it was my imagination or guilt at having tried something new in my cooking.

We ate dinner. Oh.My.God!!  That roast came out so incredibly tender!!  I will definitely buy one of those again and I will definitely use marinade again. Everyone ate their fill and complimented me on dinner-something that rarely happens around here!

Later, I cleaned up the leftovers. I unplugged the crockpot and emptied out the food. Then I took out the ceramic ‘pot’. Lo an behold there was a rubber stench that came out of the bottom. I looked inside and there was yellow goo.

What the fuck is that???

As I tried to wipe/scrape it out, I figured out what it was…..

While it was stored under the sink, I managed to put one of my cleaning gloves in the bottom. It never occurred to me to look inside before placing the ceramic pot in. Now….my poor baby…my crocky…..my best friend when I’m not feeling well….is dead. (Believe me- DEAD. Hubs and I have both tried to clean out the gunk.)

After they had a great big chuckle at my expense, Hubs and Son2 promised that I will get a new one…..as long as I promise to make that roast again!