I miss my sons April 16, 2011

I miss my sons today, both of them.  In the midst of all the madness, I had a moment of clarification, I have no one to share this weekend with.  I came home to an empty house and have no one to talk to about my adventures.  I do what I do to make my sons proud of me, and neither one of them were there to share the day with me.  It was amazing.  I’ve never been a part of anything so awesome in my entire life and if I never do another thing, I can surely hang my hat on this weekend. Brandon would have been so proud, at least I hope he would have.  I mean he would have been 12 years old, hardly the age to think anything ole Mom does is even remotely cool.  It was amazing to see all the families out and about enjoying the day.  There were bikes and strollers and dogs and babies, oh so many babies. It was beautiful, and then it hit me…I’m alone here.  I had to fight my ASD tendencies all weekend. I reached outside of my box and tried not to have anything close to a “meltdown”, but yea.. I’m still gonna be apologizing to a few ladies and gents for a while. When I left the Pearl District tonight, I was completely drained, there is nothing left. I laid it all out there because I needed something to take to completion. I needed to finish this and see it through. I wanted to make sure that everyone walked away happy because it is how I try to fill the empty space in my heart that just can’t seem to get filled up anymore. No matter how happy I want to be, I feel so empty without my family. I still feel like an outsider here. I miss all my crazy Texas friends and hope that part of the discontent comes with the lack of a real routine these days. (I know James’ little universe has been in ALL kinds of chaos because of my schedule!) I just don’t know how to not work.  Since I can’t find anything to keep me occupied that pays me, I keep finding little projects close to my heart to keep my mind busy so I don’t have time to bother with nonsense like self pity. I don’t deserve to feel sorry for myself. There are so many people in situations that would break me and they survive daily. They deal with struggles and difficulties doing things I simply take for granted. I never want to forget Brandon was a gift and even though I didn’t get him as long as I wanted him, I surely had him for 8 amazing years and 5 days. I’ll admit today I am having a hard time. At the end of the day I have no one to show it to or share it with. Not one person I loved was around and I have it admit it broke my heart a little.

I wish life was like preschool. March 31, 2011

Image via Wikipedia

Remember when words were for helping and not hurting?

I wish I could run my life the way I ran my preschool class.

The rules list is pared down immensely:

1. Use your nice words.

2. Inside voices are for inside and outside voices are for outside.

3. Hands are for hugging, not hurting.

3. Take Turns

4. Share with your friends.

5. Please, Thank You, I’m Sorry and I Love You may be the most important things you say today.

I could bust into song at any point in my day and you better believe I had backup. I got paid with hugs and kisses and people thought it was REAL cool when I could reach stuff off the top shelf.  At 5’4″ I don’t get many opportunities to be the tallest person in the room. I miss nap time and circle time is a great way to begin and end your day. I think if more people had family style dining in their offices, the world would be a better place. I spend more time with my coworkers than anyone else in my life, why shouldn’t we occasionally break bread and talk about what we want to be when we grow up?

There are days I feel as though Tulsa’s drivers need to go back to preschool. Valuable lessons can be learned such as: take turns, form a straight line, be patient, don’t rush…. the list literally goes on and on.  I often arrive home emotionally exhausted after a long drive.  I honestly wish there was a better transit system so I could get where I needed in the warmth and comfort of a reliable bus or train.  Allow me those stolen moments with my son so I can talk to him about our neighborhood and what is going on in his little mind rather than tell him to let me focus on the road.

Today, I nearly got in an accident on my way back from dropping my son off at school. A car full of teenagers pulling into the Tulsa Ballet took it for granted I would stop. Technically I had the right of way (take turns kids) and he is lucky I was in the “drive cautious” mode because he never once looked over and had I been looking away for a moment or distracted in any way, I would have T-boned him and his four friends. I shudder to think of his poor mother, because kids, you are human and can be hurt. You aren’t invincible, watch where you’re going and while I am at it, look both ways. Kiddo, you never looked up, you never saw me coming and you didn’t slow down. 25 mph through a parking lot is a bit much while I am at it. (sort of the use your walking feet type philosophy)

It’s almost easier to understand why adults forget the little lessons we learned in preschool. I mean adult amnesia does begin about the time you start taking on grown up responsibilities. It’s easier to put away the childlike wonder we were equipped with because we have to focus on things like the bottom line and other grown up things. I’m lucky, I am a mom and with it comes the perks. I have a golden ticket to every cartoon coming out in the movies. I use it, trust me. I was a total dork at Disneyland when we met the Frog Princess and Cinderella may have been looking for security. No one thinks twice when I pull toys and snacks from my purse and any given afternoon I have a cheerleader cheering me on as I slide head first down the slide. Get a little dirty, ride your bike, play outside, and mind your manners because manners matter.

When I least expect it. March 24, 2011

I anticipate the change in the weather and most holidays and will prepare myself for them. I’ve learned to build little dams to hold back the floodwater of emotions that most expect to come. It is the changes or singular moments that I cannot prepare for that get me when I least expect it. I find it funny how it always starts out happy, but when the laughter stops and the house is empty, the grief finds me.  James has seen me shed too many tears and I try my hardest not to upset him.  When I slip and cannot hold back, the worry in his eyes breaks my heart the most. Laughter turned into tears last night if that makes any sense, though I have learned grief rarely makes any sense at all.  I love children, though being around them occasionally reminds me just how much I miss my son and the days when it was the three of us running around.

I miss the times when I would pull a stool up and peek around the corner to watch them play. So engrossed in their little games, they hardly ever noticed me until I accidentally made a noise.  Those times were my happiest, and I would give anything to turn back time. Brandon had a way of playing with his brother.  He understood him from day one.  I swear they had their own language, often unspoken. There were afternoons when they would sit in their room, each with his personal box of Legos.  They would build together silently creating these amazing little landscapes. They would then be the scenes for incredible battles, or cities, as Brandon had such an imagination.  I feel blessed to have been privy to their special little world.

This week I think the trigger is simply because James is about to turn 8. Up until this moment I kept him frozen in my mind as my baby. I so desperately wanted him to stay my perpetual little angel because it was so much more difficult to face him becoming the older little brother. One week after his birthday, he will officially be older than Brandon was at the age of his death and frankly it has me a little skewed. Up until that day he will actually be younger than his brother and then the dynamic changes.

James is so analytical and needs an answer to everything. He is constantly questioning me, looking for the rules of engagement. I’m not ready to try to break it down for him.  I can’t quite wrap my mind around it either to be honest.

Tulsa IS my job. March 22, 2011

I quit my job just before Christmas. I have since become a volunteer machine. Since I left my job, I have gotten to really dig into a lot of the things I am passionate about. I am actually a bit relieved right now that I have time to devote to the Polishing the Pearl event even though I don’t have as much time as I would like these days. It seems to surprise people I am unemployed, though I now have a new response to the question, “Where do you work?”.

Tulsa, because right now it IS my job. And to tell you the truth, I’m loving the heck out of it. If I could make a living at it, I would in a heartbeat.  In 3 short months I have learned more about the city and state I call home. I am learning about so many amazing a motivated people who are accomplishing incredible things daily.  The coolest thing about being involved with so many wonderful people is my sweet James gets to meet many of them. He is learning about volunteerism and community and activism and arts all that Tulsa is and has to offer.

Last night he accompanied me to a Tulsa Hub board meeting at INCOG. I decided to turn an inconvenient turn of events into a field trip for him after my childcare fell through. It was his first real foray into one of the buildings downtown. I mean sure we make it down there for meals and entertainment, but he got to see first hand what I mean when I say I am going to a meeting.  (Remind me to write something about the need for after hours child care… oh how my mind goes off on tangent after tangent) He was so impressed with everything. He was excited about the view of his city even exclaiming “It’s just so beautiful”.  He asked me to take him back during the day so he could see all the people and he wanted to go on a tour. I never would have thought about that for him, who knew he would be so interested in the goings on of us silly grownups? I mean we sort of leave those things to the schools. How better to teach my son about the process and about Tulsa and about how it all works? Even if we don’t always remember to use our nice words and our inside voices… I will have to remember to find times to take him along as I do what I do.

I manage to stay pretty busy for someone who is technically unemployed, though hopefully I won’t be for long.

 

 

Time keeps rolling on and it’s not fair. March 10, 2011

Today I had a moment and I actually got on Facebook to check in on my friends and family. Time seems to pass so quickly these days. Weeks fly by in the blink of an eye and for the most part it never bothers me one little bit. Then there are days like today where I find myself marveling at kids Brandon’s age and how much they have grown and how mature they are.  I feel guilty looking at their pictures because I feel a bit sad. I will never know what my sweet baby could have become.

I notice the way their faces reflect their age and how many of them are just beginning to blossom into the young men they will become. I watch over them like a forgotten godmother, wishing them nothing but the best. I miss home, but find it very difficult to return there these days. Time keeps rolling on, and yet I feel very much stuck in 2007.

I wonder what he would have looked like.  I wonder who is first girlfriend would have been and what she would have been like. I will never get to nurse a broken heart and get excited over his first date/kiss. We never got to take a summer road trip with concert stops along the way. I will never know the answer to so many questions, and it makes me feel cheated. I can’t get passed the feeling of being robbed.

It isn’t with me every moment of my life, and it actually takes you by surprise more often than not. You never know what will trigger a difficult memory. I once broke down in tears because I saw a little boy who looked like him from behind and yet another time because I thought I smelled him on the wind. It’s silly, and I wish I could explain it in a rational way, but I am afraid there isn’t anything rational about grief.  It took me a while to realize there is nothing wrong with me, for so long I was afraid people saw me as damaged. I’m not damaged, I am a survivor. I have survived the things nightmares are made of and I still refuse to give in to it.

The art of the mixtape March 9, 2011

I keep having these conversations with James about music which have become about more than music.  I use music like some parents use an after school special, a personal platform to teach him about life.  He has quite a learning curve to contend with. I am trying to instill in him the lessons I have learned and share what I am continually learning. The other day I mentioned something about a mix tape. It saddens me with the advent of the iPod and other digital media, my son will never know the simple and beautiful art of the mix tape. Not the way we knew them when we were growing up. I had to explain to him first what a cassette was and the mechanics behind it. He looked completely confused. Thank you internet for coming to the rescue. I then had to try to explain the meaning behind such a silly thing. The generation gap rears its ugly head. I remember sitting in my many rooms with my little dual tape deck patiently waiting for the DJ to stop talking over the intro to my favorite song. There was an art to knowing just when to hit the pause button and I was such a perfectionist I even made sure to have a bit of airspace between each song. In every town, I got to know their style and almost instinctively knew when a pause was on the way.  It wasn’t merely a mishmash of songs, there was an art to creating the perfect mix. It was a way of saying what you just didn’t have the creativity or gumption to say yourself. I remember every single mix tape I made and why. Oh there were many nights sitting up trying to create the perfect mix from my vast collection of CD’s once those were the rage. Even then the sweet mix tape lived on. It was something you could give anonymously to your crush. It was a physical manifestation of someone thinking of you. It has gone the way of the love letter, lost to the ages and an immediate gratification generation. I’m sorry, I just don’t feel nearly as romantic about a mixed CD. I don’t know why. There is no real rational explanation, and frankly I don’t need one. Opinions are AWESOME!  Though for the sake of argument my all time favorite mix is one Christina Pellet sent me a while back. That girl knows a thing or two about the art of creating a mix. I will even admit to singing along to the stupid Owl City song when no one is in the car and there are no witnesses. I hang my head in shame for admitting that. (At least I can still say I haven’t gotten Bieber-fever.) James is fortunate in the sense I see the value of vinyl.  We have those Sunday afternoons where we listen to records and sing across the house.  He is coming into his own and is more vocal about his particular likes and dislikes.  It is interesting to see how his tastes develop, especially because he has an entire music catalog at his fingertips. He has Pandora and other such outlets to discover music both old and new. He fancies funk and soul and has an interesting ear for indie.  We have instruments about the house for experimentation, all fully available to him at any moment. I love his impromptu concerts on the bongos and how he plays with the noises the harmonica makes. He is fearless, and very much the performer.  He hasn’t become self-conscious and can get me to break into dance and song along with him because it is something we share and well, because we can.  I am a nut, a complete nut and will serenade people at stop lights and blow kisses to elderly gentlemen just to see them smile. I never want him to lose his sense of childlike wonder and I don’t feel I should have to give it up either. Trust me, we have some fun times at my house. It hasn’t always been this way. Grief took over a big period of my life and it is something I continually learn from. I did things I am not proud of and will work my whole life to overcome.  Each and every moment of my life there is a playlist and hopefully in the moments when I find myself at a loss for words and I just can’t quite explain myself, I can find just the perfect mix to play for him to help me convey what my feeble mind cannot. I have a lot of making up to do and there are so many songs yet to be sung. In lieu of a mix tape, there is a collection compiled called the soundtrack of my life. It is on a portable drive, so when I am gone he will have the greatest mix of all time containing every song that ever meant anything to me.  I hope he will sing some of the songs with his kids and tell them stories about their crazy grandmother and the shenanigans we got into together. I hope it helps him to remember to never lose his voice and even when I am not there physically, I will be there singing along with him. I swear there are days I feel his brother with me and can almost hear the sound of his shoelaces clicking in time to the music and it takes me back to a time when we drove down the road talking about all the adventures we would have with our little James.

http://www.pandora.com/people/hamsandwich78

Now accepting applications… February 24, 2011

…just because you get the application doesn’t mean you are guaranteed admittance to the fun house.

What do I want from a relationship? I swear, stupid eHarmony commercials are doing to relationships today what 80′s movies did to a whole generation. I still have to remind myself movies aren’t real life when I watch stupid chick flicks. Those guys who do and say the exact perfect thing? Well, they have a team of writers, mostly women, making sure their every move is swoon inducing. False advertisement at its finest folks. Men fare no better, because they are sent mixed signals on a daily basis. If that isn’t hard enough, they get handicapped immediately because some douchebag bro, who probably isn’t getting laid anyway, feeds them the mysteries of the female universe as discovered at the bottom of more than a few drinks. Don’t even get me started on the same “bro” who decides to smoke a joint and becomes the prophet by which all pimps must bow down and gain the gospel from.

Women are no better. We have unrealistic expectations. I know I am just as guilty as the next girl of suddenly having expectations once the relationship status changes. Conveniently neglecting to inform my partner that the rules have changed mid stream. It’s why I get itchy after 5 months. Really sweetie, it’s not you, it’s me.

How can I expect to get what I want when I have no freaking clue as to what I want? I am still in my “oooh shiny stage” where I am quite boy crazy. I’m single, 32, in America, financially stable and white enough. My ex boyfriend Travis, who I credit with a lot of my growth in this department, always said I enjoyed the idea of a relationship far more than the reality. He’s right. It’s the hunt, the chase, the kill and then I get bored. I’m not ready for a serious relationship, because my standards are too high and completely unrealistic. Honestly, it’s going to take someone pretty freaking amazing to get me to submit in any way. Yes, admittedly I see relationships as a submission of sorts. I go 100% with everything in my life, and relationships are no different. I become a part of a unit, a “we” and I feel like I should expect the other person to bring to the table a commitment that is equal or hell, greater than what I bring. I require a strong personality in a partner, so it should be someone who has a complete sense of self. I live to push boundaries and tell it like it is. I love a good debate and have the most chaotic schedule known to man. I am crazy and manic and silly and funny and I sing anywhere at any time simply because I can and I don’t want to lose that to anyone.

I’ve had so many crazy life experiences and I don’t see an end to them any time soon. The term “hot mess” gets thrown around when talking about me so often I would bet there is a pic of me in the dictionary next to it before I settle down for the long nap. Half the time all I can do is laugh at the randomness of life and the situations I manage to get myself into.

I don’t want to leave anyone hanging as far as the application, so I suppose I should list some sort of disclaimer, though I would reckon after reading my blog people realize I am a special kind of crazy I like to refer to as “the good kind”.

As far as my relationship requirements, if you cannot claim to be an audiophile, we may run out of stuff to talk about unless you:

• Zombies: love the movies and possibly want to be in them. If you aren’t ready for the zombie apocalypse we can’t hang.
• Ninja or Kung Fu: watch the movies – strive to be a ninja in at LEAST one aspect of your life.
• You can quote at least 75% of Full Metal Jacket
• Love animals – the furry and less than furry kind. I have rescues and have yet to meet a pathetic face I don’t want to claim.
• While money is not a real concern, a job of some sort, even volunteering is probably a good thing. Lazy is a total turnoff unless it is planned and organized lazy. (and I get real tired of paying all the damn time)
• Accept there is a little dude who is pretty much a mini version of me that is part of the package and he will come first.
• Understand I am very vocal and will get on a soapbox and defend something I believe in, even if it is unpopular so if you aren’t cool with me having causes, I’m probably not the girl for you.
• Realize believing in what I do is not a necessity, though it is necessary for you to have an opinion of some sort. Please understand I love a debate will challenge you more often than not because I can.
• Sex – need it, can’t live without it, make sure you are in good shape and have a doctor’s note, and that’s all I am saying on that for now.

I have a feeling I’ll revisit this some more as I go along, but it’s as good enough a beginning as any!

When do-gooder’s get dirty. February 15, 2011

With effort and direction from neighborhoods anything is possible

TYPros Urbanists work crew.

What’s the best part of having a blog? I can talk about anything, everything and so whatever moves or inspires me is up for discussion.

I know, the shock is overwhelming, someone actually let me be in charge of something!?  Marinate on it, because it’s a fact. With the guidance of our fearless leader, Jonathan Bolzle,  the Urbanists, with support from TYPros, are poised to do some pretty amazing things in Tulsa.  In my short time as an active member of  TYPros, I have met some extraordinary people who are passionate about Tulsa and are motivated to guide it towards the future envisioned by so many.  We are ready and willing to roll up our sleeves and get a little dirty.  This is our home, and we will lead by example to show what motivated individuals can do for a community.

Community is an interesting word, and it has so many different meanings to so many of us. Everyone feels it in their own way.  I chose to move to Tulsa because I remembered being happy here. I have lived all over the United States. I have seen so many places that I’ve often referred to myself as a gypsy, nomad, fugitive from justice or hell in the Witness Protection Program.  When it was time for me to make the decision as to where I would lay my hat down, set up shop, and put down roots, Tulsa was the obvious decision for me.  I do not have the ability to claim Tulsa as my birthplace or even my hometown, but it is my home and I am vested in it because this is where I will raise my son and create my story.

What are you doing to be actively invested in your community?  What is the mark you will leave on the place you call home? So often we talk about the lack of resources and that surprises me.  I look around every day and all I see are resources.  We all have things we can offer, even if all you can offer are the clothes you don’t wear anymore.  Tulsa is the most philanthropic city not just because of the dollars infused but because there are people who roll up their sleeves and do the dirty work. They do the thankless jobs keeping the most vulnerable of us going.  There are people who work every day to make Tulsa a beautiful place to live, a vibrant and exciting place which welcomes all with open arms and is there to support them in their darkest hour.

I am really proud of our current initiative, Polishing the Pearl.  I feel a little like a kid at Christmas because I can’t wait till I see the grand vision realized.  I think this one will surprise even me and I am smack dab in the middle of the flurry of planning and preparation. I have seen our leadership crew pull together and do some pretty amazing things in a short period of time.  At the heart of it all is our darling Pearl District, and at the end of the day it is the neighborhood and the building of pride and community which moves us all.

I was one of the people who saw TYPros as merely a meat market. I avoided it and yet I always complained because there never was a place to meet decent people. At least not in a condensed setting, in my age group when you’re new in town.  Outside of bars that is, but as a single mother it’s not always in my best interest to seek out meaningful relationships of any kind in a bar.  Since I’ve actively joined TYPros, and not just signed up for the e-mails, I have met some of the best and the brightest in Tulsa.  I meet people who inspire me daily.  I have gotten involved, found a passion, refocused my direction and am involved with organizations and causes that move me to attempt to squeeze just one more thing into an already full life.  I am so plugged into Tulsa right now, I am able to show my son something new and amazing about our home every day. He loves Tulsa and is quick to tell anyone he meets as we travel they should come to our home because it is the best. I happen to agree.

Valentine’s Day should be called: Why Do I Have to Work Harder for Sex Day? February 14, 2011

I had to write this down as soon as it came across the marquee in my mind.  It is just too, too good to let roll by.

There have been so many round table discussions about this at my house.  My tomboy tendencies and my love for simplicity = more male friends than female friends.  This is awesome for a couple of reasons, the first being I get an all access pass to the male mind.  An anthropologists dream, I get to hang out and be one of the guys.  Believe me, as stated in a previous post, this in no way benefits moi.  The minute attraction is added, men and women cease to speak the same language.

Valentine’s Day sucks for single people, and I’m not talking about the obvious reasons either.  I’m so single, I’ve declared myself an authority. I’m thinking about writing a book called The Single Woman’s Guide to the Nauseating Holiday Season, or How to Survive When All of Your Miserable  Friends Want You to Be Too! No one talks about the 2-4 week blackout period just prior when everyone is scared to date for fear it makes them obligated to do something for this ridiculous holiday! Don’t get me wrong, I am all about celebrating love but is that what we are really celebrating? From where I am standing, it sure doesn’t look like love.

Perhaps I am jaded because I’ve never been in a relationship on VDay with someone who was willing to buy into it.

I brought this before the boys one night while we were hanging out at the house and the hilarious little nuggets of truth as a result are priceless.  There’s nothing like throwing out a hot button topic to get them all riled up.  I swear it’s the cheapest form of entertainment for everyone involved.  There is a moment when they start being boys, so I end up having to “set them straight” and I get all riled up and feisty.  If you haven’t seen this first hand, let me tell you, it is freaking hilarious.  As a result of being such a passionate person,  I end up so animated it looks like a one woman show.

I get frustrated by the double standard, and it’s not because women always get the wrong end of the stick.  VDay leaves me feeling like everyone is getting screwed and not just the good kind either.  I haven’t met one person who is truly excited by the idea of Valentine’s Day. Why should they? Especially guys because they get the shaft on this holiday.  I’ve been watching all my dudes prepping for today and I swear they are sweating bullets.

Take my friend German’s situation as an example:

He has the added pressure of VDay being his anniversary! Newbie…He’s since learned to come to me before making any major relationship decisions.  He’s just locked himself into a high dollar holiday if this girl ends up being the bring home to momma kind. At the rate he’s going, the wedding will be on VDay! I mean how nauseatingly romantic would it be to get married on the anniversary of the day you began dating (gag-cough-gag) which happens to be on the most romantic day of the year!? I can hear the squeals of delight from the inner teenybopper in all women.  Hey, even I can’t fight genetics or John Hughes movies. If it was me, and it was his idea, I’d be all over it.  I would probably rent a billboard in every major city to announce my victory.

All I am saying is he could be getting laid every single day of the week before Valentine’s Day, but if he doesn’t come out of the gate with an impressive enough display of his love, he’s on sexual lock down until her girlfriends feel he’s been punished enough!  Yea, Yea, don’t worry I know this makes me a traitor to my gender, but a fact’s a fact. All I know is it feels like peacock posturing day and I don’t feel like working harder for something I’m not getting anyway.

The Catholic Church Gives Blessing to Confession iPhone App | Popular Science February 10, 2011

The Catholic Church Gives Blessing to Confession iPhone App | Popular Science.

He he.. oh man.. I was  doing my best to stay away from the Catholic Church until at least month two or three buuuuut geez!! Temptation and what not.

I will refrain from saying too much about this other than Cafeteria Catholics rejoice!

The Catholic Church is so disconnected from reality, and in the face of this, their solution to appear more timely is a freaking iPhone app? What’s next? “What Would the Pope Say? The magic 8 ball of religious support and guidance.

I will retain my recovering Catholic title and proudly state I am still a Buddhist with Christian tendencies.