High Five!

“Acceptance is the magic that makes change possible. It is not forever. It is for the present moment.” Melody Beatty

I left my son’s dad when my boy was two. A moment of clarity showed me my son would need a better example of how a man was a to treat a woman. Somehow I knew that if I stayed, he would grow up thinking that “this” is how a man should treat his life partner. I felt a responsibility – how that notion came to me was simple. I was sitting on the couch my toddler son was standing next to the slate top coffee table drinking a class of milk. He spilled the milk. I began to get upset with him. His lower lip quivered. I stopped. Sat down next to him on the floor with his face held gently in my hands. Stared at this precious little boy…little baby that I cherished…and asked myself “Why in God’s name would you yell at a baby for spilling milk?!” I scooped him up, hugged and kissed him…rocking him…and myself to a state of comfort. Searching my soul for the answer I realized that I had taken so much abuse at this point and bottled it up for so long that it was coming out sideways onto an innocent little person. He had become collateral damage to the trauma I was living…everyday. That was it. No matter the cost, I’m out. The unknown scared that shit out of me, but I knew I HAD TO leave.

We struggled financially… a lot… I think, however, that all my son’s needs were met. The fridge was pretty bare most of the time. The milk and juice were always watered down. I would use one egg scrambled with water and cinnamon for three days straight to make him French Toast on weeks that things were (really) tight. If he needed something…and at times…even when he wanted some things…I would just tell him…”Let’s see what I can do…Let’s put that on the list…Let me see if I can get an extra shift for that…Payday is coming up”…whatever. Rarely a “no” would come out and he was a reasonable kid and was a great son and student. He deserved all that he ever asked for as a child.

After we were on our own, I spent the next couple of decades working two or three jobs. When my son was small, I went to school full time and worked two to three part time jobs – never less than two..always working around his schedule and never working too much. Tried hard to be there as much as possible with minimal work hours to get it done. I always tried to keep him in sports. Always wanted him to have the comradery of other kids since he was an only child. WE were working toward a goal together for not only me, but him, was worth every second. I’d bring him to the bus stop in the morning, then head to school til just before lunch. Then I’d go see my tribe of women and then on to home health visits. On the weekends he was with his dad, I’d work overnight 12 hour shifts. Eventually I would work respiratory rehab shifts a town away one or two times a week also. We always had just enough…and that was good enough.

I would always look for free things to do. I think I built them up so much with him that he thought these little adventures were amazing. He was easy to please. I always had in mind that each and every decision that I made was a life lesson for him. In fact, every time I thought I just can’t go on any more, I knew if I quit I was teaching him to quit. And so for just one day at a time, I kept going…for both of us.

When my son and I had to leave his home town, I made a conscious decision to move to a place where we could still drive to see his father and extended paternal family and a place where I could pursue my dream professionally. I chose a college town with a multi cultural base. I wanted him to experience as many new things and people as possible. Turning a negative situation into a positive one and for both of us to benefit. Free stuff is easy to find in a college/cultural town so we did A LOT of free things. We also loved to have “Pig Nights” on Friday nights. These epic evenings consisted of folding out the big yellow floral couch, throwing a sheet over the mattress and spreading out the thermos of home made juice or if we could afford it too, we have “Capri Sun” pouches for him and freshly popped popcorn. Usually I would be able to purchase one sweet snack for him which was a big treat for him. We’d watch movie after movie (Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory and Pollyanna ad nauseum) for as long as we were awake (he ALWAYS outlasted me). We’d sleep in our clothes and didn’t have to get up at any specific time in the morning. Great memories.

I used to tell him frequently, “Life is about making memories…make good ones”.

I always shopped at second hand stores for both our needs. EXCEPT I would always buy him new underwear and socks… don’t worry! For me, I would wait til Christmas when my mother would give me socks and underwear as a gift – as requested. For 12 or more years, we lived pretty humbly…to say the least. I kept an attitude of gratitude outwardly with my son and left the worries to HP. Whenever my son would ask “what are we gonna do now mom?” (wish I had a dollar for every time I heard that one), I’d tell him “that’s not your job”. I would tell him that his only job was to be a good person and do well at school, the rest was mine…and it was, always.

The days before I passed the boards and waited on my license to come through, there were MANY scary moments as I look back now. There were many occasions when we didn’t have either A/C or heat or both. Some nights I would let him spend the night at his friend’s house til I could figure out the air conditioning – many a used window unit came through that mobile home. Many mornings I would get up early to turn on the oven, then the fan, move the floor heater to face his breakfast chair and hang his blanket over the chair…then wake him for his day at high school…ninth grade. I never mentioned how scared I was or my doubts of us making it … we were so close now … “I can’t give up now”… I remember it all like it was yesterday.

“Perspective will come in retrospect” Melody Beatty

I am grateful beyond words for all those years of challenges. As the saying goes, if I didn’t have the tough times I wouldn’t know how good I have it today. It was NEVER easy, but when you know you’re the doing the next right thing…you have a goal…there is a prize at the end…you are teaching your child a valuable lesson…and you know like you know like you know that it’ll all be ok with God on your side, you just keep “soldiering on” (thanks Aunt Jean). I would remind myself OFTEN “if I can live with the worst case scenario – the worst possible outcome – and my son wouldn’t get hurt and he would be the better for it…?…then it was worth the risk and work”…always.

My son and I were sitting at the traffic light near Wendy’s and Taco Bell. He was 14 or 15 years old now. I had finished school and studying for the boards. I was working in the office were I had interned as support staff for six months and cleaning condos to help make ends meet. Things were tight…really tight, but light was at the end of the tunnel…and at this point, I KNEW it wasn’t the train! He very casually looked over to me and asked “Mom, can I have five bucks?” Looking forward I said “Son, I don’t have five bucks.” “Well, can we go to the bank and get five bucks?” indicating with his thumb, pointing north toward the location of the Credit Union where we banked. I looked at him casually and said “I don’t have five dollars in the bank right now son.” He looked to me with concern and asked “What do you mean you don’t have five dollars in the bank?!? Looking toward him with a reassuring glance I said “Don’t worry. We have gas in the van enough for several days, food in the fridge, the electric bill is paid and payday is this week. We’ll be fine.” “What are we gonna do mom?!” I said, “Son, If I had five dollars for every time we’ve been in this situation, we wouldn’t be in this situation.” Not thinking anything else of it and actually calming myself saying all of that out loud, I waited for the light to change. Suddenly I saw him raise up on both arm rests, turn toward me with a look of fear and desperation bewailed at me in a raised tone “YOU MEAN WE WERE POOR?!?!?!?!” I was shocked at the question. I stared at him. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Yes, son, of course we were poor.” “Well why didn’t you tell me MOM?!” But I got it at that very moment. “Because it wasn’t your job to know that son.” He never knew how bad things were. He never knew how close we were to collapse over, and over, and over again. At that very moment, once again, a pause for clarity…I knew I had done my job as a mom. High five to me.