Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Three little bears

There has been a momma bear, and her two "baby" bears visiting our garbage and cutting through our neck of the woods for a few months now. I use the term "baby" loosely. They are more like teenagers. Not so small. They have been making appearances under the cover of darkness, as well as strolling through our property right in the middle of the day.

 I think about them a lot. My girls play in the front, and I always keep a watchful eye. I still haven't gotten used to buttoning their jackets and saying, "now you know what to do in case you see a bear, right"?, as I send them out the door (gulp). I can't see them, but I always feel aware of them out there. Somewhere.

Last night, I dreamt that I was taking a walk with the girls through the neighborhood. It was dark out. Behind us, I saw the bears. All three of them. We began to make noise, to let them know we were there, as not to scare them. I told the girls to walk toward home. Quickly. I turned to look for the bears, and they were running. They were coming for us. I know you aren't supposed to run if a bear is chasing you, but in my dream, I shoved the girls in front of me, and screamed at them to run as fast as they could.

We finally reached the house, and ran in the door, slamming it behind us, just in the nick of time. The bears slammed into the side of the house. They were growling. They were clawing at the door. My girls were frightened. I told them to keep the lights off, and stay quiet. I was terrified in my dream, and fearful of my ability to protect my babies. These lives are my divine responsibility. How could I let something go so horribly wrong?

Maybe it is stress coursing through my veins making me have nightmares. Maybe it is the awful pressure of having to magically deliver Christmas with all of it's joy, and wonder, on barely any money. Maybe it is the fact that after paying our bills, and buying food, and diapers to last until payday, we have $40.00 in our "emergency/gas fund" for the next 10 days.

 Maybe it's Charlotte's cough, and the doctor visit I know she needs, but the concern about the copays' high price.  Should I take her to the emergency room instead, and worry about that much higher copay later?

 Maybe it's the lunch with Santa my girls want to go to that we can't afford, because the price of admission is a  Toys for Tots purchase, and I can't even get the funds together to get toys for my own tots. The holiday gift shop at the Intermediate School even has me stressed, and everything there costs a dollar. The girls want to buy presents for each other. It just doesn't fit into our $40.00 budget this week.

 And the car. That funny noise that just keeps getting louder. I keep turning the radio up so I don't feel so nauseous every time I drive it.

Or maybe, it's the constant, knawing, thoughts of the uncertain future we face, of staying in our home, that instead, has me worrying about bears, and Christmas, when in reality, I am scared of our ability to provide a home for our children.

I woke up this morning after my bad night of bear dreams, and thought to myself that I wish the threat were just bears at my door. I wish it was that physical, and when they went away, because it was dark and we were quiet, we could resume our carefree walk. We could just take our time, and be together, and I wouldn't have to keep looking over my shoulder. Always aware of what I cannot see in the murkiness of the night.

I understand that momma bear. I understand her fierce instinct to protect. It wanders through my mind constantly.

Even while I sleep.



Tuesday, November 29, 2011

One last Thanksgiving thanks

My girls proclaimed this Thanksgiving to be the best we ever had. I thought it was too. I could not have felt more relaxed. Charlotte spent the day in her pajamas, and when I insisted she change, she put fresh ones on. We snacked, and the girls had their sparkling grape juice in champagne flutes, which always makes things taste so much better. (that's what they said.)




The bird was done way ahead of schedule. I had made my stuffing the night before, and opted not to stuff it in the turkey, because I saw on TV that by the time your turkey is perfectly roasted, your stuffing is not the right temperature, and I couldn't get that out of my mind. So I baked it, in a buttered dish. And my gravy was so good. I put a splash of balsamic vinegar in it, and chopped sage, and my roux was perfect. Roasted brussel sprouts, and mashed potatoes with cheese and heavy cream added to them were beyond words.








My pie was identical to the photo in the magazine where I got the recipe. Identical! And the taste was heavenly. A whole stick of butter and a cup of brown sugar was melted together into the most sinful gloppy glop, and the crust went ON TOP of that. I loved it. The girls ate the pumpkin pie. I had fun peeling apples with them, though.








Molly waited patiently for her dessert. She kept saying Happy Thanksgiving in her garbled, stuffy nosed, voice. She had a 103 degree fever. She didn't have much dinner, but insisted on ice cream on her slice of pie.

I thought about our Thanksgiving today, because on Wednesday, when the girls got home from school, we never went through their book bags. I was going to do it that evening, but I never got around to it.

In Olivia's bag, was a turkey, with bright, crayon colored feathers. On each feather, she wrote what she was thankful for. I finally went through her folder last night. I felt sad that I hadn't seen it earlier. One of those, "I suck so badly as a mother" moments.

She wrote:
I'm thankful for my health because a lot of people are sick in the hospital.
I'm thankful for my shoes because some people don't have any shoes.
I'm thankful for my family because they are loving and caring, and I'm thankful for that.
I'm thankful for my warm cozy bed because most people don't have that.
I'm thankful for my clothes because they are nice and clean and some people are poor and don't have nice clean clothes like you and me.
I'm thankful for the roof over my head because lot's of people don't have that, and we should be thankful for that.
I'm thankful for food because they make me healthy and I'm thankful for that.

Me too, Liv.

Monday, November 28, 2011

Not quite there yet

My stress level has not been this high in a while. Things can sometimes seem OK to me. Maybe we have just been coasting for a bit. Just getting by. It all has become so normal, that it doesn't get under my skin as much as it once did. But then something makes me snap to, and realize that a lot of what I am seeing is a whole lot of smoke and mirrors. I am seeing something that isn't really there. I am becoming too comfortable living with uncertainty.

But for the last few days, it just seems so totally unacceptable. It is all around me, and I can't seem to escape it. I can't look away, and act like this is all a temporary place we are in, and if I wish hard enough, and if I do good deeds, and if I am patient, the winds of change will start to blow in our direction, pushing us where we need to go. The better place. The place where we can breathe, and get ahead. Not continue to fall behind. I am so tired of stumbling. I am exhausted from all of the waiting. Hope helps you to get by, but only for so long.

When I open my eyes in the morning, I never feel rested. I feel like I am drugged, and I just want to turn over, and burrow further under my blanket. I feel so detached from people. Even my own children. I hate even writing that, let alone feeling it. Just going through the motions. Breakfast, laundry, cleaning, picking up, lunch, childcare that seems never ending. Just waiting to lie in bed. That is what I feel like each day. I am just biding my time. For sleep, that never comes.

Yesterday, I thought of Molly, in high school. That distant time and place seemed overwhelming to me. Like it was light years ahead. It made my head hurt just thinking about it. Some days, I feel so old. For a moment, I wondered if I would be there. Would I physically make it. Turning 40 hasn't helped. I know I am not old. But I am no longer young. I am in this weird state of limbo. I have gone in the direction I thought I was supposed to be heading, but I am not quite there yet.

I read about a woman who had three small children, and a husband, and was diagnosed with Stage 3 colon cancer. She was panicked at the thought of her children growing without her. I couldn't even imagine. The thought alone made me cringe. She also asked herself these questions. "Did I accomplish enough in my life? Is there anything I wanted to do?"

I keep asking myself this. And I keep coming up with the same answers.

Maybe it is the awful Christmas pressure bearing down on us that is making me feel like this. Maybe it is the change of season. I hate when the trees have no leaves on them. No matter how bright the sun, it still looks so cold out. It seems so desolate. So exposed.






Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Wish bone




A friend of mine said the other day, "If you were in the stores today, you would see that the majority of the 99% are getting by just fine..."

Hmmmm. Not so sure about that. I get what she is saying. By all appearances, people were shopping at the supermarkets for their turkey dinners. Holiday time is here. Gifts are being purchased. Stores are busier than normal. The Christmas rush is upon us.

I too, am out there. This week it was purchasing all the things I needed for my Thanksgiving dinner. And thankfully, I got a last minute cleaning job on Monday night, that enabled me to do so.

Christmas...well, what can I say about that. It is a wonderful time of the year. It truly is. But the financial strain of it has me awake at night, wondering how we are going to pull it all together. Just like it did last year. I have three little girls. Three sweet little lists are all ready to go out to Santa. I certainly can't disappoint. What do I tell them? Christmas just isn't in the budget this year? So, again, I too will be out there, purchasing what I can.

So, by all appearances, myself, along with every other shopper you see, will look like all is well. But it isn't. For many, this is the hardest holiday season they have ever experienced. For many, my self included, to be able to provide the magic of Christmas means making cuts in other places, and hoping the kids won't notice.

 My girls were talking about the wishbone in the turkey last night. They are excited to pull it, when it dries out. They are amazed by the possibility of wishes fulfilled by a simple crack of a bone.

Charlotte said something that made me sad. The house next door to ours is empty. It has been, for close to four years, now. Foreclosed on. She wondered why they just didn't wish on a wishbone to keep a roof over their head. Maybe if they had done that, they would still have their home. If only it were that simple, I thought.  

Maybe, instead of looking down on one another, maybe we should just try and remember that you don't know what it is like to walk in any body else's shoes, but your own. And to help out, or at least empathize, is so much more productive, than judging. To be thankful, truly thankful, for all that you have, you must be willing to share. Even if that is just a kind word.

In the immortal words of the cartoon character Moose A. Moose, "When everyone's together, everyone is happy. We're thankful that we have so much to share."




http://youtu.be/_PCH-OZkqmY  Thankful song


Tuesday, November 22, 2011

To do list

Thankful today for the last minute cleaning job that will enable me to complete my Thanksgiving shopping list, and still have a few bucks leftover.

Apples
Onions
Herbs
Brussel Sprouts
Celery
Frozen Pie crust (Cheating. Totally. Did I mention how I hate to bake?)
Bread for stuffing. I turned my nose up at Stove Top the other day, thinking, gheezh....once a year, make a real stuffing for crying out loud. But there I will be today, purchasing frozen pie crust. Touche'.
Stock
Figs
Thin mint wafers, in honor of my Nanny.
Tempted to buy walnuts. I have memories of a nut tray. But really, that would be a waste.
Candles
hor dourves
Actually, I will let David pick up those on Wednesday. Along with the....
Prosecco, or maybe Beaujolais Nouveau. Or both.

OK, so I clearly must edit my list, if I want to have a couple of bucks left over.
Off to prepare. The grey weather seems to help. Not sure why.

Thankful for my free turkey too. Did I mention that?


"Easy Skillet Apple Pie" I will be attempting to re-create. We'll see about that. Just double checked the recipe, and it calls for refrigerated pie dough!!!!
And it has, beneath the bottom crust, a butter and brown sugar yummy mixture. Oh my!

Monday, November 21, 2011

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Stranger

I run my fingers through my hair, scraping my scalp. I envision sparkles and lovely light flowing out of me. All it is though, is skin. Flakes of dead me.

I know too much about someone who sees me everyday, and looks right through me, as I am a stranger to her sober self. A woman lives up my street. She is drunk. All of the time.

Some days, she seems alright. She walks, and listens to music. Some days, her face is not her own. Replaced by an awful mask. Crazy eyes, and alone. She begs strangers for rides to the state store. She falls on the street, and narrowly misses being hit by cars. Someone always comes to her rescue. I see her, clutching a bag. Carrying it like a genies lantern, in a rush to get it home, behind closed doors, and wish away.

I saw her yesterday. She saw me, and even though, I helped her up off the ground of my driveways stones', and took her home one summers day, she did not remember me. She was in my gutter once. With a bag of wine and vodka. Glass clanging loudly. Bruised and bloody. It was the most pitiful site. She cried. I cried. And I felt I should look away. It was more than I should know about her.

There were pumpkins and scarecrows displayed at her door. A sign with the house number, and a front porch. Manicured bushes and mums. And a terribly sad soul , trying to make it look OK. Trying to blend in.

She was walking up the street today, clutching her bag. Cradling it. She broke my heart. David said, "what should we do, as citizens of this earth, to help her". I don't really know, I thought.

I hope tonight, she is asleep on this cold November night, surrounded by sparkles and light.

 Let her be lovely.